Today I have a closet full of pretty dresses, and if you ever see me in the spring or summer I bet you $100 I will have one on.

Recently, my friend Katie gave me this song, Cotton Dress by a friend of hers, Shellee Coley and I thought it was pretty good  song and it reminded me of how I used to be that little girl, and I would get my new Church Camp dress every summer and I would spin around all by myself out at my Granny and Grandaddy’s place and think I was pretty.

Then I heard the story of how Shellee wrote it, cause her parents used to sing her the song “you are my sunshine” (each parent, seperately, and neither one knew the other one sang it).. and that reminded me of SLIK cause that is one of the songs we have on her i-tunes playlist.

I also LOVE LOVE LOVE the last line from this song,  “music is the way I pray and it makes me feel alive”  Well, that FOR SURE– is me!

Cotton Dress

About 15 years or so ago, one Christmas, my brother, then at Texas A&M, came home with a CD for us all to listen to cause one of the songs on it reminded him of our family.  After just the first few lyrics, “Mom got drunk and dad got drunk, at our Christmas party, we were drinking champagne punch and homemade eggnog”  my Mamma and Daddy, Uncle Mike, cousins and Bigmamma died laughing…. Yep that was us. Almost to a T!

Well, my brother gave me that CD (Gringo Honeymoon) and I loved it, and a year or so later I bought the great Robert Earl Keen’s next CD, No 2 Live Dinner, but that is another story)  Luckily, other Texas artists have put out some great Christmas music, enough for me to have a playlist made entirely of Texas Christmas Music.   (Okay, some of these folks may not have been born here, but we are cool with that)

I’m always looking for more… so let me know if your favorite isn’t on here.

1. When it’s Christmas Time in Texas                             George Strait
2. Santa Looked a lot like Daddy                                       Kelly Willis
3. Pretty Paper                                                                         Willie Nelson
4. Grateful For Christmas                                                    Hayes Carll
5. Santa Baby                                                                           Kelly Willis
6. Please Daddy Don’t Get Drunk                                     Bruce Robison & Kelly Willis
7. Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer                             Asleep at the Wheel/Jack Ingram
8. Christmas Cookies                                                            George Strait
9. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas                 LeeAnn Womack
10. Christmas in Texas                                                          Asleep at the Wheel/Kevin Fowler
11. Silent Night                                                                        Asleep at the WHeel
12. Away in a Manger                                                           Waylon Jennings
13.  Baby it’s Cold Outside                                                   Kelly Willis/Bruce Robison
14. There’s a New Kid in Town                                          George Strait
15. Nothing but a Child                                                       Steve Earl
16. Merry Christmas to You                                             Billy Joe Shaver
17. Hot Texas Christmas Day                                          Asleep at the Wheel/Dale Watson
18. Merry Christmas From the Family                        Robert Earl Keen
19. Happy Holiday’s Yall                                                   Robert Earl Keen

So, my parents took AJ and Savvy to my family Thanksgiving for the weekend and left me with my BFF Jenny to babysit.  She set me up on the pull out couch and cooked her California version of Thanksgiving.  I sat up long enough to eat and walked to the bathroom and back a few times. The next day was much the same, TV, a game, eating… I honestly don’t think I was more active than normal, but I will always wonder.

About 8pm on Friday night, I started feeling weird.  Jenny knew I was a paranoid freak, and tried to calm me down, but I knew something was wrong.  She took me to the ER down the road.  Within a couple hours  they had me belted up and checked out—confirming what Jenny said, I was a paranoid freak.  In the meantime, my parents had made it back from my hometown and Eric had come in.  I begged the on-call obstetrician to keep me overnight so my doctor could see me the next day,  and she did, but my head was patted and I was given a valium.  Everyone was told to leave so I could rest and calm down.

Around midnight, contractions started.  The nurses came back in, the doctor was called and my very weak contractions were about 3 minutes apart.  The doctor at that piece of shit hospital came to tell me there was nothing they could do, that the baby would be born and would die within a few minutes.  I told her I wanted to go to Austin, and she told me I was being cruel to subject “it” to a very short life of pain—that I should let her die peacefully.

I said, “call me a fucking ambulance, I am going to Austin”.  My baby girl was going to have the chance to live. They wouldn’t release me.  I called my parents, Eric and Jenny—anyone to come and get me and take me to Austin, but no one answered.  It was 2 am.  The doctors and nurses didn’t know what to do with me; I was screaming at the top of my lungs that I was going to sue them if they didn’t get me to Austin.  They finally called the ambulance.

In the ambulance, on the thirty minute drive to Austin, my contractions were 45 seconds apart.  The paramedic in the back with me was absolutely petrified he was going to have to deliver a 4 month premature baby.   He was on the phone with the ER and as they wheeled me into the hospital, it was like an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, everyone was waiting on me, doctors and nurses–all rushed over and took charge.  They had me hooked up to an IV within seconds pumping me full of something to stop my labor.  A few minutes later, the contractions had stopped. We had a chance!

Over the next 2 days, my parents and Eric came and left a few times.  I was still in labor, but the meds were holding it off.  I was barely 24 weeks pregnant.  The NICU doctors came in and told me there was less than a 10% chance for her to survive if she was born at 24 weeks, but I had contracted a major infection from being dilated so long.  They did amniocentesis and she was infected too.  I was on four IV antibiotics, but we weren’t getting better.  I had 105 fever.   We were septic; we were dying.

They stopped the meds around 4:30 pm.  My mom and my friends Jenny, Ali and Alicia were there with me.  Eric was called.  They said she would be born in about 4 hours, but it wasn’t even two.  The NICU doctor, Dr. Zeb, came in and explained her chances to me again.  10% chance she would live—she was very sick, she was very small, she was very early.  If she did live, there was a 40% chance she would be blind.  There were lots and lots of problems she could have and it would be painful for her and painful for me to watch.  I asked him what I should do.  I couldn’t be the one to make the decision to let her die, but it seemed that is what everyone was saying.  He said, when she is born, if she is crying and moving, it means she is ready to fight.  If she isn’t, we can decide then.  Then, I will give her to you to hold until she dies or take her down to the NICU.

At 6:15 pm it was time.  I pushed once—she was that small.  She was covered in little black hairs and was so tiny she looked like a kitten…more importantly; she was meowing like a kitten too.  From across the room I could hear her crying.  Dr. Zeb looked at me and said, “your little girl is a fighter.”  I begged him to try to save her.  They rushed her past me to the NICU downstairs.  I didn’t even get to touch her.

I was too sick to stand up and couldn’t see her for two days.  When I did go down, she was the smallest baby out of 30 babies in the NICU.  I stood beside her and watched the machines breathe for her— she was in an incubator, she was on a ventilator, she had IV’s going into her feet and a feeding tube going into her belly button.  She was tied to a small board to keep her from pulling away from the ventilator.  She had a knit hat on her head and patches over her eyes.  She was 13 inches long and weighed 1 pound and 6 oz.   They had taken her handprint and it was on a card taped to her bed—it was smaller than my thumb. I asked if I could touch her and I laid my finger against that tiny hand, by instinct she wrapped her fingers around it.  We sat that way for hours.

I talked to her doctor again that afternoon and again he explained all the risks.  I asked him what I could do to help her.  He said for me to pump because breast milk was the best food for her.  He said to drink beer or wine because it would help me relax and help me make more milk.  He said to come see her as often as I could and to touch her as often as they would let me—to be a part of her care.

Lastly, he said, you have to have faith and pray.  Don’t pray that she will live, but pray that you will have the strength to get through this, no matter what happens.  Have faith that God is with you and he will be with her.  Know that if she doesn’t live, it was because God saved her from a life of pain and be happy with the time you have her.   I was a 30 year old Christian, and the most important spiritual lesson in my life I learned from a Muslim Pediatrician.

I could write another two hours about the next 109 days.  They call it the Preemie Two Step – back and forth we would go, getting better, than worse.  It was a slow process.  There were very good days and very very bad ones.  I walked in on my birthday, 2 weeks later and her incubator was gone.  I panicked and screamed before they told me she had been rushed out to have heart surgery.   Two weeks later, for Christmas that year, they let me change her diaper.  Two weeks after that she got pneumonia and had to be put back on the ventilator.  Another month after that and she had contracted a staph infection and nearly died.  On Valentine ’s Day, the baby in the incubator next to her  died from the same infection.

The week before her due date it was almost time for her to come home.  By that time she was breathing on her on, I could hold her, rock her, bathe her, feed her.   We were waiting on her to figure out how to nurse and then we could go, so I was there all day, every day, practicing.  One day, a specialist came in to do a routine test.  They asked me to hold her while they put a tube down her throat to test her stomach acid.  As he began inserting the tube, she began having difficulties.  The deeper it went in, the more she struggled—she finally stopped struggling and wasn’t moving.  Within 10 seconds her heart rate monitor was flat; she was turning blue.  She stopped breathing. Somehow, by accident, the tube had gone into her lungs.  She was dead in my arms.  After everything we had been through—that quickly, she was taken.

But, I watched in slow motion as the nurse took over.  Sirens blared, doctors rushed over, they pumped her little chest and shocked her.  Slowly, she came back.  They hooked her back up to the oxygen mask.   She was going to be okay.

Today, my little girl Kati turns ten years old.  I call her SLIK, sweet, little, innocent, Kati.  I call her perfect.  I call her a miracle.  I call her the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me.  For some amazing reason I will never understand, God chose to save her.  I tell her that he has a huge purpose for her—that it might be to be a good mommy or to be a teacher or a doctor, but that it might just be to make others smile.  Whatever the reason he has for saving her, I cannot believe he trusts me to be her mom.

In the years since, I did some volunteer work at the NICU, telling other parents about my experience.  Once, while I was there, I ran into Dr. Zeb and he told me there were 30 babies born at that hospital that were as premature as Kati that year.  10 of them lived.  8 of those have major complications.  2 of those are perfect.  Kati is one of those perfect, healthy, joyful, amazing kids.  When he tells other parents about miracles, hers is one of the stories he tells.  THAT is the biggest gift I will ever be given.

Sitting there with your hair all in your face, tears are falling like they’re in a race.  Look down, look around then you look up again; get the feeling you could never win.”

My Savannah Jane is a lonely little girl.  She will be 17 tomorrow.  So many songs remind me of her, growing up as a little girl and now as an almost adult.  The soundtrack to her life from her mother’s eyes is probably not one she would choose, but I bet there are a couple of the same songs on it.

The Garth Brooks cover of Shameless by  Billy Joel touches me not as a song about romantic love, but about that brand new baby adoration. I sang it to all three of my babies and I will sing it to my grandbabies.  I remember two stepping with Savannah in her dark bedroom singing how much I worshipped her. “I was Shameless, when it comes to loving you, I’ll do anything you want me to, I’ll do anything at all…”

Before AJ was born I learned Playmate from my ex-mother in law;  she wanted me to sing the song to him that her mother had sang to her and she had sang to her boys.  It is a sweet little rhyming song that Savannah picked up quickly.  At 18 months old she would sing it to her babies in her lispy sing song little baby girl voice.  “Playmate, I can’t come play with you, my dolly has the flu, boo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo”

When she was four, Savannah saw Jerry Jeff Walker in Luckenbach with my entire family.  At that point, we played him often and Redneck Mother was by far her favorite.  At that age they want to hear  the same song over and over again.  One of the most satisfying days of my life was when she sang this on the porch of my “high class” in-laws house.  As you know, she gets the redneck side from her mamma!  She knew EVERY word and sang it in her hick east Texas drawl.  “M is for mudflaps, O is for oil, T is for T-bird, H is for Haggard, E is for Eggs and R is for REDNECK!!    Oh, i wish I could have seen my father in laws face!

Savannah had no idea why I belted the words to the Dixie Chicks “Goodbye Earl” . It was hilarious to me  when she chose this song to sing at her 3^rd grade talent show the year she lived with her dad and stepmom.  She taught it to the girls in her little after school Dixie Chicks Cover “band”.  When the talent show director heard their rehearsal, she made them change the
song.  I think she found  the lyrics a little frightening for middle schoolers.   “Those black eyed peas, they tasted all right to me Earl, you feeling weak?  why don’t you lay down and sleep
earl, is it dark? wrapped up in that tarp Earl”

At that time, she LOVED the Dixie Chicks;  her first real concert was Pat Green and the Dixie Chicks at the Cottonbowl.  She was 8, so it was 2000 or 2001. So, the song she chose for the talent show instead, Traveling Soldier, was another Dixie Chicks favorite, but I was proud she knew that one of my favorite song writers, Bruce Robison, actually wrote it.  When
we are together, even now, I make sure to play Traveling Soldier for her because I love to hear her sing it.  “I, I, I, cry, never gonna hold the hand of another guy. Too young, for him they told her, waiting for the love of a traveling soldier”   She falls in love like I do, hard and fast and thinks it will last forever…she hurts like I do too, uncontrollably.

Her favorite was Kasey Chambers, though.  She loved her and sang every word to every song of The Captain CD.  Kasey’s lyrics spoke to her, and for the first time she chose her own music rather than just regurgitating what I liked…Cry Like a Baby was a favorite” But I still cry just like a baby And I answer back to feel a little free And I still fly even though I’m gonna fall
But I’m too far to let it get to me.”

but, she chose many of the artists I liked, Pat, Bruce and Kelly, Robert Earl, were all favorites and we saw them  all and  they signed her Cowboy hat and we took her picture with them.  For her 13^th birthday we had already started fighting all the time, but she chose to go see Willie.  My ex-boyfriend and I took her and AJ to Stubbs.  The show was disappointing for them, Willie was sick and sang his Medley of hits and some old standards they didn’t really know as well and ended his show early.   But, the highlight of the night was  when we  went to Willie’s bus and he was signing autographs, but really sick and they escorted him to the bus and said no more.   The line was so long, but we were close and Savannah was standing there with her hat.  Willie was in the bus already, but they called to him, “Willie, theres a little girl out here needs her hat signed” He came out and hugged her and signed her hat and stood for a picture
and asked her what her favorite song was. Without hesitation she said, “Whiskey River” “and you didn’t sing it right”!  He laughed so hard at her and said, “that’s one of my favorites too girl” and hugged her again.  What a memory for both of us!  “I’m drowning in a whiskey river”

Of course through her early teens she turned to My Chemical Romance and other emo bands I can’t stand and don’t know the name of.  She had really started changing by this point, was angry or sad all the time, but we still had some music in common.  She made us an early morning itunes play list and the four of us would sing on the way to school and in the mornings getting ready.   We played Bohemian Rhapsody every morning and AJ, Savannah and I would sing it together, “Mamma, just killed a man, put a gun against his head, pulled the trigger now he’s dead” then go wild head banging when the fast part started.  I can see her shaking her head and none of us caring that the people in line at the school thought we were crazy”

We fought over the radio dial and Ipod playlists all the time.  I liked classic rock, old country and Texas/Red Dirt and she liked Grunge, Metal, Emo shit, etc.  We agreed on a few songs every once in awhile, I loved Smashing Pumpkins and Alice in Chains, she loved The Rolling Stones and tolerated Cross Canadian Ragweed. When I played “ Lonely Girl” for her and told her it reminded me of her, she agreed and posted it on her facebook page and added it to her Itunes.

She loved the Randy Rogers song, “In My Arms Instead” and I actually caught her singing that one to herself all alone, “You, you’ve been on my mind, I wish you were here, beside me tonight, lying in this bed cause I, I’m just not the same; I walk down these streets, I swear I hear your name,  but it’s just in my head; wish you were in my arms instead.  She and I were singing the same words to different guys at the same time and I hated that she was hurting as bad as I was in her own heart.

She’s the one who is gone now, for almost two years now shes been skipping from friend to friend and boyfriend to boyfriend and I keep up with her through the GPS on her phone and weekly texts.  She listens to folk music and wants to go live with Rainbow Hippies…but, for the first time since she was 13 years old we have actual conversations; she’s not threatening suicide, she is mostly happy and making good decisions even if they don’t involve spending her 17^th birthday with her mom.

Tonight, while writing this I added all these songs and many more to a Savannah Jane playlist.  Gonna listen to it all day tomorrow and remember the good times with my wild free
spirit girl.

In summary: I miss my little girl, but love the big girl I have now too, as difficult as it’s been.

Tonight I’m thankful: for music that can conjur pictures and memories in my mind, heart and soul.

* if you find fault with the lyrics or song titles, sorry, they are from me singing to myself and I didn’t have time to look them up for accuracy and I have really bad hearing!

LITTLE GIRLS and LINGERIE.  WHAT THE FUCK.

I’m talking a five year old, with a bra and panties on, leaning back on a couch, next to an eight year old, with her legs crossed in a fucking negligee.  Dressed up, little girls with big hair and more eye shadow than I wear in a month. Their mothers need to be kicked in the crotch. SERIOUSLY, who lets their daughters do that?

I know this is going to trickle down soon—it won’t stay in France.  One day soon some fuckwad mother on my Facebook is going to talk about the adorable bra and panty set with matching negligee she bought for her 6 yr old. I swear to you, it will happen.

These ads are child porn. If you don’t think there are scumsucking perverts out there taking these ads and fantasizing over these photos you are fucking nuts.  If you don’t think there are men out there who will see these little girls and want one of their own, you are fucking naive beyond belief.

Several years ago I had a photo on my Flickr account of a then 11-year-old SavvyJ swinging from a rope swing on the Frio River in her little-girl tank top swim suit.  This freaky, creepy fuckwad ask me if I had more pictures of her I could post.  She was beautiful and “so full of life”, but he clarified, photos of her in her swimsuit.

I can’t take my 9 year old shopping for a Halloween costume now because companies market maid and pirate costumes with thigh high lace hose, short skirts and off the shoulder tops to little girls.   Last year one of her friends was a rock star, her mother, a total idiot who I routinely want to kick in the crotch, made her costume.  A black and gold padded halter top with a black mini skirt, black lace panty hose and knee high black patent leather, high-heeled boots, and more eye shadow then I wear in a fucking month.  SLIK was “Fancy Nancy”—a character from a little girl’s book.  This year she wants to be Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie.

Last week SLIK and I watched “Toddlers and Tiaras”.  I was horrified.  Where have I been???  I was already disgusted by the southern bell practice of parading little girls out in fancy dresses to fight for “most beautiful”, but I had no fucking idea—these girls are dressed up in big hair and makeup and more eye shadow than I wear in a fucking month.  Their mothers bribe and blackmail and punish their daughters because they don’t want to go get their nails done, or for hating the fake leather jacket they are forced to wear.  Their daughters are becoming attention whores—at the age of 5 these little girls are learning that they will never be a decent person unless someone is watching them and telling them they are beautiful.  These mothers need to be kicked in the crotch, but these little girl’s daddy’s need to be shot in balls.  Seriously, it is your job to protect your daughter from your stupid fucking attention whore wife.

SLIK really is sweet, little innocent Kati.  But, I have to work my ass off to keep her that way.  This year, she will be in fourth grade where girls are starting their periods and wearing padded bras and being catty with each other over what jeans they wear and it makes me happy that my little girl comes home and puts on her boots and climbs trees and plays with her dog and thinks bras are ewwww. I don’t know how to keep her so innocent in a world where other mothers let their 9-year-old daughters pose for centerfolds in lingerie or dress up as
a slutty anything for Halloween.

Whose fault is this? The media blames consumers, consumers blame the media, I blame fuckwad parents….some stupid people even blame the little girls.

In summary: Parents need to be kicked in the crotch when their 9-year olds can put on eye shadow better than a grown woman.

Today I’m pissed because I have to work so hard to keep my little girl innocent.

Today I’m thankful because SLIK put powder all over our bathroom floor last night in an attempt to “prove” there are faries.  Thankful because she’s a little girl with an imagination who makes messes in the bathroom that have nothing to do with putting on makeup or fixing her hair.

I love to cook…probably because I love to eat good food, and sometimes good food is hard to come by, especially on a limited budget.  I generally subscribe to the Paula Deen rule of cooking– the more mayonnaise, butter or cheese you can fit in a recipe, the better.  I used to be able to cook and eat anything I wanted and stay in decent shape— until I hit 36 and my ass suddenly blossomed in direct proportion to the amount of butter, cheese and mayonnaise I ate every day.

seriously, I have recipes that include butter, cheese AND mayonnaise.

Also, somewhere deep inside my southern, east texas “farm girl” soul, I believe the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I love to cook for an appreciative man. The best compliment I EVER got in my life was when my Grandaddy, at 80 years old, told me I made the best fried pork chops and cream gravy he had ever had…and this man had lived on fried pork chops and cream gravy!

The summer I gained 30 pounds I was teaching SavvyJ how to cook pies!  We were soooo broke (it was my last semester of college and I was taking online courses), our entertainment budget was enough to buy cookbooks at half price books and flour and butter in bulk quantities at SAMS.  I AM NOT Joking. Bigmamma lived with us and lord that woman had a sweet tooth.  Goal one was the perfect chocolate pie.  Let me tell you, we made a freaking chocolate pie every day for two weeks–

I learned to cook from my mom (staples like pinto beans and cheap casseroles), my Granny, (good old fashioned country food, like Roast, green beans and potatoes, black eyed peas and chicken and dumplins) My Bigmamma, (the best Cornbread dressing you ever put in  your mouth); and my ex-mother-in-law, Nonnie Sue (sweet Tetley Tea and every desert you can think of).  I also experimented on my own with Mexican food and Italian food and lots and lots of veggies, soups and deserts.

Tonight I am making Chicken Enchiladas—a recipe that took me years to develop, but has been ranked by every person that has every tried it, to be the best chicken enchiladas this side of Mitierras.  I also make a bad ass chicken tortilla soup.

Without further ado–  Chicken Tortilla Soup:

1 deli chicken, I prefer the jalapeno or traditional flavor  Do not use Italian or Honey mustard or anything weird.

1-3 shredded/grated carrots, one chopped yellow onion, a bit of minced garlic (saute together in olive oil till the onions are translucent)

1 cup or more of spicy V-8

Cabeza squash or zucchini squash

a tablespoon or so of cumino and chili powder ( measure sizes in the crook of my palm)

large can of fire roasted tomatoes  (or two 15 oz cans)

1 can of rotel

a bunch of cilantro, chopped

3-4 avocados. ( I could eat 3-4 on my own)

cheese and tortilla strips

____________________________________________-

Cover the chicken with water about 2 inches over the top and boil down to a good broth.  You can put the chicken in a cheese cloth to keep all the bits together.  Remove the chicken and reserve the meat.  You should have about 8-10 cups of  broth.  If not, add a can of chicken broth.

Add the V-8 juice and sautéed veggies

Add the squash.  (I use 3-6 depending on size) but, when you dip a slotted spoon in the soup you should get plenty of squash and carrots in your spoon.  Slice or chop your squash as fine as you like, for me depends on how lazy, busy or how much wine I have had at the time of cooking.

let that cook down a bit, then add your spices and cilantro and tomatoes.

Let it cook down a bit more.  Taste it and add some seasonings.  Oh, about a tablespoon or so of salt and some black pepper is good.

I’ve also put some fresh jalapeno in my veggie mix that I saute.

So, let it get bubbly and yummy hot.  The most important part here is to keep tasting the broth till you like it.  Some folks like their broth a little thick, so you can mix a little mesa or flour with a bit of the broth and pour a bit in and it will thicken.  Keep stirring the bottom if you do this so the flour doesn’t burn.

when you think it’s just about ready, add your sliced avocados in the top.  They should float and soften just a bit.  You can also do this by pouring your hot soup over the top of your avocado.

Oh, shit, don’t forget to add your shredded chicken back in, just long enough to let it heat up. (take the skin off)

Finally, put some corn tortilla strips in it, or make it like a frito pie with crushed tortilla chips and cheese and the soup.

FUCK N A!!!  This soup is  slap your mamma good!    To add some fiber, you can throw in a can of pinto beans or black beans too. When I do that, I make it a vegetarian soup and use the chicken for something else.

Let me know if you fix it!

Summary: I like to cook–duh!

Today I am thankful for mayonnaise and cheese and butter…

I’m pissed because, I eat too much and my butt may not ever be worthy of a pair of Levis again.   (not true, I am getting there slowly but surely!)

I did a bunch of stupid shit! Had a few affairs, spent too much money, declared bankruptcy, got a DUI, Oh, I had a few lofty ambitions—was going to write a book, was going to go to law school, was going to shoot my hubby in the head, but,without a real plan of action, these were just thoughts in my head, not actual goals.

When I divorced and moved south to the Texas Hill Country Promiseland, even my lofty ambitions fell to the wayside a bit, while I struggled to make sure and drink, party and have as much fun as possible. Damn, was I good at that! The only goals I truly attained was running every day and fitting into the jeans I wore when I got prego with kid # 1 and having the bartender at the local Dive Bar start my jack n coke as I walked through the door.

But, SLIK came along and my world changed… I completely believe, and will always believe, God gave me this child to straighten my ass up…and it pretty much worked! I’ve fucked up a few times since then, but mostly been a non fuckwad!

My goals, slowly but surely became realities— college, career, freelance writing, actual hobbies of my own, taking my birth control every day, going to counseling once a week, not wanting to shoot the ex in the head, not having sex for 4 years….

WTF—I was a success!!!!

But, lately I’ve had to acknowledge a few failures… lost two good friends; lost another good friend; lets see, what else? Oh,yeah—I got fired from a job I truly truly loved.

WTF – I am a FUCKWAD!

So, based on my latest fuckwad status, I felt it imperative to make some new goals—ambitions, with a real plan of action.

No particular order:

I will beat the final level of Resident Evil IV many of you may think Zombie killing is just a ridiculous escape, but studies have shown that when the zombie apocalypse happens, those with zombie killing video game experience will be the true heroes.

I will tweet 20,000 times in 2011. Tweeting is no longer a pastime for me. It is a goal. I’ve broken down the daily amount of tweets I must tweet to be successful.

I will have 500, non-spam followers. Why this is important to me I have no idea, but it seems important to others in the twitteruniverse, so I thought I would try it and see if there are some kind of magical twitter rewards, like maybe a virtual beer?

I will own 10,000 songs I have 7,000. I have a ways to go, but I think this can be done. The first step is to find someone who owns three thousand songs I don’t own and beg them to give them to me. Currently, I am busy listening to Pandora and checking out new bands as often as possible. I know I can do it!!!

I will get all my laundry done once again, I have broken down how many loads of laundry I must wash, dry and fold per day to get this done. Once the Resident Evil goal is completed, this will be my next priority.

I will watch all the 161 movies/tv shows in my Netflix Queue One important purchase I have made since being fired is updating my Netflix to 3 movies. Not sure how I could possibly make this goal without this important purchase. In order to achieve this,I created a new Netflix account (non paid) to add new titles to. It would suck to get off track. I am seriously considoring putting a tv beside a tv so I can play Resident Evil at the same time I watch a movie.

I will win 20 games of WWF I love this game, but I suck at it. Once I am down by 50 points I give up. And, I always rush to make the first word I see and then realize I could have made the same word using a triple point score spot. In other words, I suck. In order to achieve this goal I am memorizing the Q, Z and two letter words.

I will watch every Dallas Cowboys game; last year I missed 2. This year, that WILL NOT happen.

I will keep up with college football better. I was so disappointed last year I gave up mid season. However,the TCU game was one of the best games ever!

These are the main goals for the moment. I have a nagging thought that I have missed one or two important, and perhaps attainable goals…but I can’t really think of what they could be…

Any thoughts?

In summary – I need a fucking job; I am becoming a no-life fuckwad.

I’m pissed because – people don’t understand that my blog is sarcastic. My life ain’t miserable, it’s just fucked up! I like to see the humor in it!

I’m thankful for – zombies, what the hell would I do all day without them?

Her text to me, “hey, wanted to check on you and see how you are doing” Me, “im okay, playing zombie killing video games– better shooting imaginary freaks than shooting myself in the head.”

and she thought I was serious…..

She doesn’t know me, clearly doesn’t “get” my sense of humor, and it didn’t occur to her to just ask me what exactly I meant by that. I did not mean I wanted to shoot myself in the head–I meant, wow, I’m great, having fun killing imaginary shit to keep from thinking about my problems.

So, the cops drive up and the dog goes nuts and I am immediately worried because I may, or may not have a warrant out for a ticket I forgot to pay that is now going to cost $750 bucks (I said may or may not–don’t judge) . Also, you never know with my big kids what the cops could be showing up for (I’m only slightly joking) Cop comes to the door, and another cop pulls up and I go out on the porch looking like my best white trash–barefoot, braless, tank top with bacon grease on it, scrunchy (yeah, i own a scrunchy, I said don’t fucking judge me), and pajama shorts that are wet cause I had to grab them out of the dryer because I haven’t done laundry in a week. It’s nearly noon, I haven’t brushed my teeth and any casual observer, or a cop with 1.5 hours of mental health training, would agree i obviously should be contemplating suicide if I haven’t already.

Copper boy in his jack boots wants to discuss my mental health he says, let’s go inside and talk. Really, this means he is being nosy and hoping to spot a mirror on the table with remnants of white powder, just to give him something exciting to do so he can tell all his buddies what a bad ass he is. It is small town Texas you know.

Meanwhile, lady cop comes up and asks if there are any children in the house. So, they come in, but I refuse to talk to them or answer any questions in front of SLIK, seriously, we are not going to talk about me shooting myself in the head in front of my 9 year old daughter. Lady cop tries to entertain SLIK, while male cop and I go outside and stand in the 114 degree heat.

So, i explain to the guy my joke and show him the text. Tell him the chick overreacted, but promised to talk to my counselor if I had any feelings of suicide. Show him both her office and cell phone numbers are on speed dial.

He says,”the caller let us know you have recently lost your job and have other reasons to be upset.”

So, I tell the dude the truth, I’ve had my share of suck ass days lately, but a job means jack shit in the grand scheme of things–I can live on child support, unemployment and my 401K for awhile and could start working at the outlet mall tomorrow if I needed to; I am the mother of three of the greatest kids in the world–the funniest son, the most independent daughter and the sweetest little girl; I’m making shrimp diablo with artichokes and asparagus for dinner; I have 18 words with friends games going and I’m nearly winning 2 of them; I’m getting highlights in my hair tomorrow; I got butt fucked by a mosquito this morning; the chances of getting laid by a man are looking up for 2011; the Cowboys could possibly have a winning season; I’m going to see Sunny Sweeney in 22 days, and I am about to clear this fucking village of zombies if you would get the fuck out of my house!

Well, okay, I didn’t tell him all of that. But, after just a few minutes of talking, and assuring him that since I am legally insane I don’t own a gun (muahhaha, yes I do) they decided to go.

The thing that really pisses me off is that lady cop asks SLIK if her mommy has been sad lately. She’s fucking 9 years old and yeah, I cry– I cried when I lost my job, I cried cause I got hurt by a friend, I cried when my mom yelled at me yesterday, I cried when I stepped on the scales this morning after eating Kale and broccoli all week; and I cried the other night reading the part in Little House on the Prairie when they thought Jack drowned in the river… FUCK, I’m a fuckwad–and fuckwads cry!

But, I am not and never will be a big enough fuckwad to shoot myself in the head over a job or anything else, while my daughter is playing video games in the next room.

I don’t know what to say to my “friend” now. Did she call the cops because she really believed I was suicidal? She hasn’t texted again to see if I am ok, or, did she call because she felt like I needed just a touch of drama in my life…should I give her the benefit of the doubt?

Summary: This day and this week are not drama free; i might as well give up on eating veggies, buy myself a quart of rum, spend the rest of my last paycheck on video games and throw my resume in the trash… I’ll start over again on Monday!!

Today I’m thankful for zombies, because killing them and imagining my former boss, ex-husband, or any other fuckwad in my life behind their jacked up, flesh eating ugliness makes everything better. (oh shit, nobody call the cops, I am not homicidal either)

Today I’m pissed because I had to lie to SLIK and tell her the neighbors called the cops cause Abby was barking, and she is old enough to know I am lying, but not old enough to talk about shooting anything in the head except Zombies.

I’m out!

But, I miss it.  Of course, I miss sex (hell yeah I miss sex)  it has been one of my favorite things to do since I was 16!! … I miss kissing, I miss dating, I miss that amazing feeling of getting to know someone new…I miss those first phone calls and how his voice makes me horny …I do miss all those things, but you can get all that from a two month fling.

But, what I really miss, more than anything, is that feeling of connection when I’m with someone I love… and who loves me back.

Like in the kitchen, when  I am washing dishes and he comes in…barely brushing my hips, but I know he needs to wash his hands or grab a beer or just kiss the back of my neck.  Or he is making burgers while I am chopping veggies…or even how he comes in to sit and talk while I cook.  I miss that.

Or at dinner, when one of the kids says something hilarious, but I can’t laugh and we look at each other over their heads and smile… I miss that.

Or in the bathroom when we are both in a hurry and have to brush our teeth at the same time and we just move over a little bit to make room—without asking. I miss that.

Or when I feel his hand in the middle of the night, in his sleep, searching for me and the comfort of being wrapped up by him.

I miss knowing there is someone to call at 3 am who, with one word can make it all better.  I miss someone other than offspring saying “I love you”.  I miss singing a love song and it reminding me of someone…  I miss having a best friend that is my everything.  I miss having someone need me.  I miss having someone that knows me, and adores me, and who I know and adore.

I really really miss loving someone.

The passion of new is great, but the comfort of commitment is what I miss…I’ve had it a couple of times in my life (literally, twice). And I have faith that I will find it again someday.

I guess the first step is to start dating and stop hiding behind my jaded, scared-to-death excuses.

If you have that love, be happy—don’t take those little moments for granted, because it is absolutely the best part of life. 

 Today, I am thankful I’ve gotten over hating men—thought for a couple years there I would be a jaded bitch forever!

I decided to join Match. com last week.  In 2 days I had 9 emails.  By Sunday, 19 emails or winks.  That sounds awesome, until you figure out that 75% of them are weirdos. Not just your average ordinary run-of-the mill weirdo, but card carrying, should be in a home weirdos.  But hey, it was entertaininng and I saw some tweets waiting to happen!  Game on!

But, one guy became really weird really quickly.  First, the bragging about his Mensa membership, IQ level, cost of his truck and fishing pole, etc. etc.  Then, his 9-12 paragraph long EMAILs through match. (not one, four) in one day— about his marriage, kids, work history…and the one thing we had in common – fishing.  If  a relationship could be built on all he had to tell me about fishing, i would have been married and pregnant already.

reluctantly, I decided to go out with him, date scheduled for monday night.  You know how they tell you to go on interviews even if you don’t want the job?  That’s what I thought about a date with this guy.  Practice….  plus, i mentioned my rod was broken and he mentioned he might have a nice 7 foot fishing  rod (score)

So, since I was puking violently in a corner all day I decided around 11 to let him know I coldn’t make it…. and rather than say postpone the date, I said cancel.  He asked if I wanted to change to another night, and I decided to be honest–I said no, that i didn’t think we had enough in common.  What I was thinking was, you haven’t asked me one thing about myself but have told me your entire life history…the only time he mentioned me in 9 or 10 emails was to ask me to wear a skirt on our date and to tell me what an amazing smile and eyes I have.  (yeah, duh )

so, homeboy says, “We have more in common than you know; my daughter’s name is K too”

WHOA!  BACK THE FUCK UP–WHAT?  (I don’t tell anyone my kids’ names)

He then tells me how he has looked me up online and how “stupid” I am, just like most woman about the internet.

Within the next few hours he told me my name, address, phone number, past phone number, my medical condition, my kids names FULL NAMES, K’s school name, a link to my house on google earth, an article in the Austin American Statesman about Kati from 2002 andother article about me from 2010, my employer, my job title, a link to my resume, and a medical report about meds I was on.  All that,, I looked up my name on google and he had to go about 20 pages back to find the Statesman article from 02.

His only “threat” was, “If I wanted to hurt you or your kids I could have done that already”

He wanted me to meet him and pay him to show me how he did it, but he kept going back to how much we had in common.  He listed it all for me.  Guess what, we both have a child born in Germany, we both have a daughter named K, we both like to fish….  yeah, we both have a MENTAL CONDITION, Motherfucker, but yours is NOT under control!!!

The latest email I received from him included an attachment from his ex wife pleading him to reconsidor leaving her.  He wants me to see how much of a catch he is and what I am missing out on.  He also mentioned how good he is at “love making”.   oh, , and did you see email?  I cancelled my match membership and he started actually emailing me to one of my personal email addresses.

Authorities and match have been called.  He deleted his account.  Baby Daddy is about to come unglued, pistol is loaded and I am trying my best to go through all my accounts that are out there and changing them or deleting them.  I will admit to some internet stupidity,, but this guy is an expert.  Come to find out, he is a skip tracer and does this for a living.  He thought it was funny to show me how smart he was and how dumb I am…

lesson learned!

Today I am thankful for the internet— otherwise I wouldn’t be able to blog this crazy shit!!!