Sunday, September 6, 2015

Someone Who Just Needed A Frostie, And A Kind Word.

I didn't see him when I came out of the bank.

Most of the parking lot at the little strip-mall was deserted.

But once I got into the car and looked over to my left, there he was stumbling along, then doubled over, gasping for breath and beating on his chest.

'Holy crap!', I thought to myself. 'Is he having a heart attack?'

I watched him for a second, but did not immediately get out of the car to assist him.

That probably makes me a bad person. But it is what it is.

He was unkempt, no shirt on, unclean pants, kind of a cross between Waylon Jennings, and Sam Elliott, late 50's, early 60's, and he looked like a homeless person.

But that's not the main reason I didn't get out of the car right away.

It was because he was a BIG guy, homeless or not. And I'm a small woman.

And despite the fact that I may carry the attitude of a giant at times, if someone really wanted to hurt me physically, they could snap me like a twig in a heartbeat, so I have to be realistic and keep that in the back of my mind when I'm approaching big, strange men alone in parking lots.

So I rolled down the window and asked, 'Are you OK?'

He didn't answer me, only gasped, mumbled, and beat on his chest again; then dropped to one knee.

I bolted from the car and got on my knees next to him, asking again, 'Are you OK? Do you need me to call an ambulance? Are you having a heart attack?'

He told me no. No heart attack. No ambulance.

He had asthma, and COPD and in this 30 degree heat, he was weak and couldn't catch his breath and the 'regular' puffer he used wasn't helping because he needed one with prednisone and couldn’t afford it.

I went back to the car to see if I had my puffer in my purse. It contains symbicort, and is what I use for my COPD.

No luck. Puffer was in the other purse at home.

Instead, I grabbed the only thing I had in my car that would hopefully offer him some relief. A piss warm, four day old, half bottle of water.

I ran back over to him and offered him the warm water apologetically, and explained it was the only thing I had, and was pretty gross, but it was wet and may sooth his parched throat a bit at least.

He drank it. Immediately.

Once I knew for sure he wasn't having a heart attack, I sat with him for a few minutes, talking quietly, trying to get his breathing regulated to the point he was no longer gasping.

He told me his story.

He was an addict.

Lost his wife and two kids. To what? Drugs? Liquor? Gambling?

I didn't ask. It didn't matter.

I told him we all make mistakes in life.

He also said he'd recently gotten his '14yr sober' chit, on which I congratulated him.

He then told me that before I got there, he had asked some 'young guys' for a bit of spare change, and they spit on him.

That made me angry, and I really hope none of those boys ever end up on hard times, because what they don't yet realize is that addiction can strip the best person in the world, of everything.

And then, once he was steady and breathing somewhat normally again, he asked me for money to get some food.

Having just come out of the bank, all I had on me were $20 bills, and as much as I wanted to help him, I'm also not naive enough to stick a $20 bill in a homeless person's hand, and hope it's really going to go towards food.

So, I told him I couldn't give him anything right now, but that after I'd run my errand, I would be driving by again on my way back, and I would stop in and if he was still there, I'd give him a bit of money.

He didn't think I was coming back.

I ran my errand, and while I was doing so, picked up a cold bottle of water from the cooler.

Then, I left and went to Wendy's, and bought a cheeseburger, and a Frosty.

It was 30 degrees out there, so I was hoping the Frosty would cool him down a bit.

Then I went back.

He was still sitting there. In the same spot I'd left him.

Not only was he in disbelief that I'd come back, but that I also had food for him.

I crouched down next to him and gave him his water, his Frosty, and told him there was a burger in the bag, and then I gave him $5. 

No, I know that's not very much, but, I told him it was to, 'Call someone who can come and help you.'

He may not have been having a heart attack, but he still needed to get out of the heat.

He was very thankful and appreciative, and for some strange reason, asked me if I was a single mom.

I must give off that vibe.

Then he said, 'Ms, I never touch women. Don't touch them at all, but do you think I could give you a hug?'


Dude was a big guy. It's HOT, and he had no shirt on and was sweaty … but I didn't want to be rude ... we settled on a handshake.

I then asked him one last time if he was going to be OK. 

He said yes, so I got back in the car, wished him a good weekend, and went on my way.

I didn't do anything special. I saw someone who looked to be in trouble, and stopped to see if I could help. Something I'm sure most of you would do.

It's been a few hours now, and I'm still thinking about him.

I hope he got out of the heat. And I hope he has somewhere to sleep. And I hope nobody else spit on him today.

Cause really, under that unkempt, partially clothed, sweaty, gasping man, was just that, a man.

A fellow human being.

Someone who just needed a Frostie, and a kind word.

And a better puffer.


Sunday, August 2, 2015

The Ghosts Among Us

For the past couple of years, I've joked about the ghost in my house.

Some of my friends believe I moved into a 'haunted house' two years ago, but I sometimes wonder if 'something' didn't simply follow us from the old house, as we had a few unexplained experiences there also.

I've always believed in ghosts, spirits, or whatever you want to call them. Both good and bad.

I also believe animals can sense these spirits, and saw this first hand one night a few years ago, when my dog started staring at, then growling at the old antique rocking chair across the room. She slowly got up off the couch, and made her way over to the chair, all the while never losing sight of it, and growling intensely.

At an empty chair. For no reason.

She didn't stop when I called her name. She didn't stop when I said, 'Stop! It's OK, Girl!'. She didn't stop until I physically coaxed her upstairs, away from the chair.

Something she didn't like was in that chair.

The ghosts among us.

Since being in this new house, I've caught the animals staring intently at things that weren't there. Or at least not that I couldn't see, anyway.

I've had things disappear. Some to reappear in different places, others to simply vanish, never to be seen again. And no, I don't believe it was my kids.

I've heard noises coming from under my bed, and told myself it was simply the cat, only to realize a minute later that the cat was outside.

I've had my bed creek and groan, with the weight of someone (or something) getting on or off, thinking it was the dog, only to look over and find I'm the only one in the room.

I left the house one day to run a quick errand. The house was quiet when I left, but as soon as I got home and got out of the car, I could hear it. The music blaring inside the house. The only one home was the dog.

None of this has really 'scared' me, because I don't think the ghost means us harm; despite the fact the song that was blaring was 'Bloody Well Right' (Supertramp). At least it has good taste in music.

And most recently, I was poked.

I was alone in the house one night, folding laundry in my room, when all of a sudden I felt a poke to my back. It was hard enough to make me jump, and turn around, once again to find out I was completely alone.

Except for the dog, who was staring at something behind me, that wasn't there.

I'll admit, that one kind of freaked me out. Just a little.

I also believe we have guardian angels, and I've had too many close calls that should have ended badly, but didn't, for anyone to convince me otherwise.

I think for the past 13yrs, one of these guardian angels has been my father.

July 6th, was the 13th anniversary of my father's death. And after all these years, although the pain isn't as searing as it was that day, it still hurts, and I still miss him.

And I still think about him. Especially on THAT day.

For the most part, it was a quiet day this year. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until that evening.

I couldn't sleep and was on the computer around 2am when all of a sudden, the music started blaring from my ipod in the kitchen. FULL blast.

I jumped up, ran to the kitchen, quickly killed the music by hitting 'pause' on the little monster, and then just stood there for a second.

Staring at it.

How … why … ?

And then I turned the volume all the way down. Just in case.

And then stared at it some more.

Then went back to my room and tried not to think about what had just happened.

It remained silent for the rest of the night.

I listen to my music on a daily basis. The ipod has never turned itself on at 2am before.


And there's no random 'sleep' or alarm feature on the docking station which would have done so, either.

I thought it was strange, but didn't make a connection to my father, until the next day, while talking about the 'freaky 2am happenings' with a friend, who pointed out to me that given the day, it might have been Dad, just saying 'hi'.

And the more I think about it, the more I tend to agree.

Dad knew I loved my music, and loved it loud. In the house, car, on foot with my walkman (you young'uns can google that one) … I always had my music. Loud.

It was a great way to get my attention after a day spent missing him.

Just saying 'hi'.

I like that.

And if nothing else, now on his anniversary, I'll think of that 2am music blast and smile. Just in case it was him.

Because it's comforting to think he may still be around, looking out for his little girl.

But next year, Dad, feel free to say 'hi', without scaring the crap out of me in the middle of the night.

If it wasn't Dad … stop messin' with my music, Ghost!

And bring back that phone book that mysteriously disappeared!

M'kay? M'kay!


Friday, July 3, 2015

Along With The Golden Ticket, Comes The Fork In The Road

My latest column in The Laker.

When you're a single parent, you don't take risks with your income.

I realize most parents and people in general would rather not take financial risks, but when you're the only breadwinner, you have to make sure you know that rent/mortgage, utilities, food, childcare, clothing, shoes, haircuts, medications, sports fees, school fees, a summer trip to a water park if you're lucky, and … and … you get the picture, will be paid, because you're the only one paying it.

Once you reach a certain salary level, it's hard to go back, so you'd better enjoy your chosen profession.

If you change employers, and explore your industry's opportunities and continue to educate yourself within your niche, you're constantly ensuring your salary is increasing or at least maintaining.

I'm one of these single parents.

For 22 years I worked in the IT industry as a software instructor, software tester, business analyst, knowledge management/documentation specialist, and finally finished as a courseware developer for military aircraft systems.

I've run meetings, led teams, produced results and quality products.

Ms. 9-5 corporate professional. And don't forget … Mom.

All of that came to an abrupt halt last fall, when I was laid off after over nine years with the same organization.

I think most people were surprised by my reaction to the news that I would no longer have a job.

I wasn't angry.

I wasn't sad.

I wasn't worried about the future of my family.

Maybe I should have been. I probably should have been. I know my mother definitely was … is, but I wasn't.

In all honesty, I looked at the situation as my golden ticket.

When you have a job that pays your bills and supports your family, you can't simply quit that job if you no longer enjoy it.

You can't leave a good paying job to pursue something that may be in a totally different field and down a different path, and doesn't offer benefits!

Even if you've always wanted to try something 'new', that you believed you could be successful at and really enjoy, you can't let go of that income.

That security.

However, when you've worked for a company for a few years, and they suddenly let you go, you're also entitled to a severance package. Not that it lasts forever, but it does give a bit of breathing room.

And time to explore some options.

Because you see, to be honest, I really don't want to be Ms. 9-5 corporate professional anymore.

I'm good at what I do, but it's never been my true passion.

This. Writing, in some form, is what I've always wanted to do. That's why I started my blog all those years ago. People liked what I shared. And it felt great to connect with them and earn a few perks along the way.

But I always wanted more. Still do.

I want to do something like this, freelance writing, as my 'job'. But how do I get that, when I don't have experience, because I've spent the last 20yrs maintaining?

And so, along with the golden ticket, comes the fork in the road.

I'm pushing 45 and don't want to be living the corporate lifestyle for the next 15 or so years that I have left to work 'full time'.

I want to try something for me. Incorporate my interests into real work. Turn my passions into a paycheck.

But … I do still need a paycheck.

I'm still a mom and I still have two children to provide for.

So in the past few months, I've started writing this column to get myself 'out there', I joined the board of directors of the Rehtaeh Parsons Society, because I strongly believe in what they're trying to do for our youth and I want to be involved with their efforts, and most recently, I was an extra on The Trailer Park Boys, which is currently shooting Season 10.

I didn't know until the last minute, it would be the scene with Snoop Dogg and Tom Arnold. And I'll admit, that was pretty cool!

No, I've never done anything like that before. First time as a background actor, first time on a set. But as I was applying with the casting company, I figured, why not?

Life is about taking a few chances, welcoming new adventures, and traveling new paths.

The big question is … can I make a living at this freelance work?

I hear it's possible. I've read it's possible.

But when you look at sites like Elance, which is designed to cater to freelancers, and you see ads that want 500 word articles and will pay $2 for them, I'm thinking … NOT A CHANCE!

Not a chance that my time and talent is worth that little and not a chance that I'll make a living at this, if that's the going rate for freelance work.

I do think I'm talented, and I do think making an enjoyable living is achievable, outside the 9-5 corporate box.

I'm at the fork in the road, and I really want to follow the path that my heart is pulling me down.

But as the golden ticket severance runs out, as they tend to do, will the need for a 'stable' salary' and 'job security' (if there even is such a thing) pull me down the opposite path, back to the 9-5 reliable corporate niche, out of necessity?

I really hope not.

I guess only time will tell.

So,if you happen to be in the market for a fantastic freelance writer, I know just the girl!

Oh, and don't bother looking for me in the scene in Trailer Park Boys. I was in the crowd at the back, but it was a rockin' good time for a days pay and new life experience!


Monday, June 29, 2015

Everyone Was Offering Snoop Dogg Weed ... So I Offered To Cook Him Dinner

Last fall I went to work one day, only to leave a few hours later no longer employed.

Laid off ... after almost 10yrs with the same organization.

I have a post coming up soon, my latest column for The Laker, which describes how I handled this, and life after the layoff.  

That's not what today's post is about, though.

Today is about an adventure I went on BECAUSE of that layoff.

Those of you who know me personally, especially since childhood, may remember my love of being on stage.

7-8 yrs old

Senior Year

Sometime in my 30's

Yeah, the little girl who loved to write, and act, ended up Ms. Corporate Professional, working in IT and training.

Go figure.

One thing the layoff did provide, was a bit of time to explore my options.

Did i want to go right back to work, doing what I was doing?  Or did I want to try something new? Something totally different.

Then I saw the casting call, looking for background actors for the taping of a new season of a well known TV series being filmed here in Nova Scotia.

I had signed up with Hennessey Casting awhile back.

I filled in a profile.  I sent the required pictures.  Nothing professional, just 'regular' recent shots, because that was all I had.

And then I did nothing.

I didn't apply for anything for a long time, partly because I couldn't exactly take time off from my 'real' job, to 'have fun' for a day as a background actor, and partly because I didn't really think I'd get picked for anything, as I have no professional acting experience.

A few weeks ago though, I saw that call, for a show that my younger boy absolutely LOVES.

Holy Crap!  I've done some pretty interesting things over the years in my career, but if I was picked for this ... the boy would LOSE HIS MIND!

I went to the casting website, read the requirements, took a deep breath, and clicked ... APPLY.

And then I waited.  And didn't say a word.  To anyone.

I didn't want to even say I had applied for anything, so I wouldn't have to hear the 'Ohhh sorry you didn't get it', if nothing happened.

So I waited.  In silence.

And then, a few days later, the email came.

"Congratulations, you are now BOOKED as a background actor on Trailer Park Boys"  

(pic below wasn't actually included with the email
 - just one of my favourites)
 Pic taken from HERE.

Holy Crap! I was picked!

Yes, the boy lost his mind.

Now ... what was I going to wear?  ACK!

The night before I was due to be on set, I got another surprise.

I would be in the same scene as guest stars Snoop Dogg, and Tom Arnold.

Um ... WHAT?!?!?!?  And once again, HOLY CRAP!

Much of Nova Scotia was abuzz about the fact that Snoop was in town to be on the show.

People were stalking the set most of the week, hoping to get an autograph or at least catch a glimpse of the famous rapper.

And then came the Buzzfeed headline, 'Snoop Dogg Is In Small Town Nova Scotia, And Everyone Is Offering Him Weed!' 

Alright, so everyone knows the man likes his herb.  But ... really?

Come on, 'Scotians!  Be a bit more original!

I decided that if I happened to get the chance to talk to him, that's exactly what I'd be! 


So the day came, and off I went to Truro, the location of the fictional Sunnyvale Trailer Park

The biggest thing I think I learned about background acting that day is, it's A LOT of waiting around.

After we signed the paperwork and met with wardrobe ... we waited.

Because I had an afternoon call time, (thank you casting Gods!) we waited for the cast to finish the morning shoot.

There was waiting for everyone to have lunch.  Myself included.

It was catered and really good, but I could hardly eat.  I didn't want to be on camera with food in my teeth, and no dental floss!

There was waiting once we got to the specific location where we were shooting with Snoop, Tom Arnold and the rest of the TPB crew.

This was also the time you were assessed by the hair and makeup people and given your prop and instructions.

And then you waited some more.

And then they said ... 'OK Background, you're up!'

I can't tell you what we did, or what, exactly, the scene entailed because of non-disclosure agreements, and well ... I don't want to spill secrets and piss off Ricky, Julian and Bubbles!  Or Snoop!  Or Hennessey Casting!

You'll just have to watch Season 10 when it comes out on Netflix.

But I CAN tell you ... it was a pretty awesome experience, and a great day overall! 

And yes, I did meet Ricky, Julian, and Snoop Dogg.  And chatted with 'T' out in the parking lot when we were finished.


You think I'd leave there without at least meeting a couple of my boy's favourites, if at all possible?

PFFFFTTT!!!! Right!

Let me be clear in stating that I did NOT bug the cast during taping.

At all.

I didn't go near them.

And yes, the majority of them were there. And this close!

But just because I had never done anything like this before, didn't mean I didn't recognize the importance of professionalism on set.

And we had been specifically warned by the casting company, 'NO PICTURES' on set unless we were given permission!

Since I want to work with this organization again, I followed the rules. 

I took no pictures.

That's not to say others didn't snap a picture of me. With friends.

I waited until we were completely finished for the day and when I saw some of the cast hanging around, casually talking to people in the room, I went over.

I spoke to 'Ricky' (Robb Wells) about going to school with his brother many years ago.

I spoke to 'Julian' (John Paul Tremblay) about what is REALLY in that glass.

And then I approached Snoop. 

He had been there for awhile, but I could see him slowly making his way towards the door, and I knew my boys would never forgive me if I let him go without at least saying hello, so it was now or never.

I waked over and said, 'Hi!'.

Then, because the dude is REALLY tall, I stood up on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear, 'I hear everyone in Nova Scotia has been offering you their weed.  Well, I'm going to offer you something different!'

Oh get your minds out of the gutter, people! It wasn't anything inappropriate!

Although I'm sure he also had no idea what I was about to say next.

Since I was no longer at his ear, he looked down at me through his shades and asked, 'What's that?'

I said, 'I'm offering you a home cooked meal.'

He looked surprised and said, 'Ohhhh I haven't had THAT!'

'I figured you hadn't!', I replied. Then continued on ...

'Just think... home cooked beef and broccoli stir-fry ... or tavern style ribs in the slow cooker aallllll day, covered in BBQ sauce ... so much better than take out!'

I could almost see his mouth watering through the smile when he said, 'That sounds GOOD!'

'I know it does.  Now ... those casting people have my information ... you want that home cooked meal ... you find me.  I'll make you dinner.'

And then we took a picture together and I walked away.

Everyone was offering Snoop Dogg weed ... So I offered to cook him dinner.

The man was offered weed by every Tom (not Arnold), Dick, Harry AND Jane in town.  He's not going to remember any of those people.

But ... guaranteed nobody else offered him a home cooked meal while he was here (unless, perhaps, a cast member who lives here full time).  

THAT he'll remember!


Of course, I can't tell you if he took me up on my offer.  Because I did promise him 'NO PAPARAZZI!'  Nobody would even know he was here.


And that was it. That was a wrap.  I waited for my paperwork to be complete, and then left.

As I was heading to my car, I was introduced to and had the pleasure of chatting with 'T' (Tyrone Parsons) for a few minutes. What a nice guy!

All very nice people, including the rest of the background cast and crew.

Overall, it was a great experience.  Something I would most definitely do again.

And as luck would have it ... I DID!

I was back on set at the Trailer Park for a another day the following week!

Different scene.

Don't bother looking for me in the Snoop episode, though.  

I haven't seen the finished product, but I was at the back of a crowded room, so chances are you won't see me.

But keep an eye out for the chick in the red shirt ... just in case!

Oh, and Snoop ... you missed out on the ribs, Dude.  We had them this week.

But the offer still stands, next time you're in town.  


P.S.  Thank you to 'the powers that be' for giving me the go-ahead to publish this post! 

Sunday, June 28, 2015

The Comment Of 1000 Likes

I may as well start this off right away by saying, I'm probably going to get some flack for this post.  

I'm going into this knowing that not everyone is going to agree with or like this one.

And that's OK.

Humour is subjective. 

Have you ever said something, or written a comment, that after you'd said/written you thought, 'hmmm ... that was damn funny, but is probably going to offend someone and get me in shit.'  

But you still can't help but think it's funny.

Yeah.  Me too.

I had just gotten out of bed one morning last winter. 

I didn't have to rush out the door anywhere, so I grabbed my coffee, and did the one eye scroll through Facebook while slowly trying to wake up.

Within seconds, I saw it.

A meme that was posted on Drea de Metteo's page.

For those who aren't familiar with Drea, she was affectionately known as 'The Junkie Whore' (aka Wendy) on Sons Of Anarchy and of course mafia princess 'Adriana' on The Sopranos

I like her.  I think she'd be cool to hang out with in real life.

After reading the meme, I let out a, 'HA!', and then without even thinking about it, I started to type.  And then hit, ENTER.

I was being a smartass, and thinking about the fact that both Drea and I have ex-husbands, when I said what I did.

And then I forgot about it.

Until the 'likes' started coming in.

A steady stream of likes.

Oh don't get me wrong, there was lots of dislike for my words also, and accusations of bitterness and bitchiness.  Yes, those are there, too.

But the comments in response to mine also contained quite a few 'Yup!', 'Agreed!' and 'Me, too!'.

And just the other day, 6 months later, that comment hit over 1000 likes.

HA!  Really?  I feel like I should say thank you!

I can honestly say that's the first time that's happened to one of my Facebook comments.

And I can also honestly say, there was no bitterness or bitchiness intended, 

I never did specifically say I was referring to *my* ex!

That was an assumption made by the internet.

It's been 11yrs, people!  It's all good. 

In my half-awake, lack of caffeine state, I just thought it was funny and thought if Drea actually read her comments, (after seeing her sense of humour through her posts), SHE would find it funny, too.

I never even really thought about the rest of her followers.

I had only had two mouthfuls of coffee ... I wasn't thinking about anything yet!

I don't want to post the meme here, because there's a big 'ol *F*-word right in the middle of it, that definitely jumps out at you, and I know some of you are reading while at work, or have little ones hanging around, and we wouldn't want the boss or kids to walk by, and take that big 'ol *F*-word personally! 

So if you'd like to see the meme, and the comment of 1000 likes at a more appropriate time, you can find them HERE.

I think you can figure out which comment is mine.

But don't read more into it, than it really was.

Agree with me, don't agree with me, find it funny, don't find it funny, think I'm a terrible person ... whatever. 

I still think Drea laughed. And that was my sole intention.

Other than more coffee.


P.S.  Before you send me hate mail, YES, I know it goes for ex-wives, too, of course!

And if I reeeeaaaallllyyyy thought the ex was that bad, I wouldn't be letting the boy go live with him in another province for the summer, would I?  

No.  Didn't think so.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Words To Die For?

My latest column in The Laker.

Last week, I was looking at one of those meaningless, time wasting, online lists that are so popular lately, when one of the headlines over in the sidebar caught my attention.

It said, 'Yet another Bangladeshi blogger hacked to death'.

It didn't really matter to me where they were from, what my brain registered was 'another blogger hacked to death'.

Wow. I realize there are many serious issues happening all over our world that are important, and require our time and attention, but this one jumped out at me as a 'must read', because I figured it had to be a bogus article, and … well … I'm a blogger.

(Pic from a previous column)

Who would go around killing bloggers? And so viciously!

People who don't agree with bloggers who speak out against Islam, according to the article.

Three bloggers had been attacked and killed, two of them leaving their homes in the morning, on their way to work. According to other articles, the actual total is nine bloggers.


And people wonder why I don't tackle the 'tough issues' when I blog.

I've been a blogger for over eight years.

At one point, I was referred to as 'one of Canada's top bloggers', but I can honestly say I haven't put the time and effort into it the last couple of years that I once did. Certainly not enough to retain that 'title'.

When I started out, it was uncharted territory. People were posting pretty much anything and everything, but there were definitely a few hard and fast rules for most.

Don't say anything that would get you fired or piss off your family, and keep your anonymity at all costs.

And if you can't/don't follow Rule 2, refer to Rule 1!

Some followed these rules. Some were public figures immediately. And others revealed more and more of their personal lives, with pictures, as time went on.

In the beginning, you never saw a picture of my kid's faces on my blog and it's still VERY rare you'll see one now that they're a teenager and adult.

I also had a couple of personal rules as well.

Don't bash the ex, and don't use my words to hurt my kids in any way.

For eight years, I've kept my blog 'light' and hopefully humorous, entertaining, sometimes educational, and meaningful.

At least, that's what I was shooting for.

It's not that I don't have an opinion on the 'hot' topics plaguing our society. I do! Strong ones!

But am I going to put them out there in a public forum, for the entire digitally connected world to read, and judge and possibly react to? No.

Not because I'm afraid to express my opinion, especially among my inner circle, (anyone who knows me, probably just chuckled at that remark) but because as a single parent, the fear of someone harming me or my children, in any way, to 'get back at' me for something I've said, or an opinion I've expressed publicly that doesn't match with some psychopath's, has kept me reserved with my thoughts.


If something happens to me, what happens to the kids. Or worse, what if something happens to the kids.

Plain and simple. It all comes down to a healthy does of paranoia.

And yes, I do say healthy, because if you remember the headline above, 'Yet another Bangladeshi blogger hacked to death' ... I don't want to end up as one of those bloggers.

Are my views of the world that extreme that I honestly think someone is going to track me down and hack me up in front of my house one day? Or target my children? No. But I also know this world can be pretty messed up.

People DIE for their views and opinions. And not only in Bangladesh.

Have I written about things that I feel are important to me, and other members of society?


I've talked about mental health, suicide, losing both a pet and a parent, teenagers and alcohol, bullying, and a whole slew of other topics, including zombies.

And yes, when I really DO believe in something, I'll go places I'm not supposed to, like breaking the law, and writing a post about Rehtaeh Parsons during the publication ban on her name.

But, I will never do so in a way that would intentionally aggravate or antagonize anyone.

Never wanting to poke the bear. Never wanting to attract the Psychos.

Because while I do love my blog, and it will always be my outlet and release, and my posts are important to me, are they words to die for?


And that will never be my intended audience. Not for my blog, or even my column.

But if I can make you smile, keep you entertained for a few minutes, and sometimes maybe even teach you something new, then I'm happy with that.

I don't have to change the world with my words, I just enjoy sharing my little korner of it with those who occasionally want to stop by.

Please leave machete at the door.


Wednesday, May 20, 2015

That Generation Gap Just Got A Little Bit Smaller

I was putting the dishes away, staring out the window, not really thinking about anything specific when I heard the first notes coming from the younger Boy's room.

I haven't watched this show in a very long time, but I immediately flashed back 20 yrs, to cleaning the apartment, with this on the stereo, afternoons at the lake, with this on the stereo, touring around 12 states on the honeymoon, with this on the stereo, and flopping on the couch every week, and enforcing the 'Thursday Night Rule'.

"No phone calls, and no visitors after 9pm, it's Thursday Night Lineup!!!"

Friends. Seinfeld.  ER.

Seriously.  If the phone rang after 9pm, it went to voicemail.

Every Thursday night, from the very first episode, we watched and grew up with the Central Perk crew.

They were in their mid-20's.  I was in my mid-20's, and although they were all still single and I was getting married and having babies, we connected.

I think it's safe to say that cast and that show connected with an entire generation.

And earlier this week, I think the generation gap in this house just got a little bit smaller, when I heard the F.R.I.E.N.D.S theme coming from my son's room.

I dropped the dish and cloth on the counter and knocked on his door, and opened it to find the show just beginning.

'You watch this now?' I asked with a big smile.

'Yeah, they were watching it at Joe's* one night, and I liked it.' 

That made me smile even more.

I don't know why it should surprise me that my kid likes a show I used to love.  It was a great sitcom.

It also made me a little nostalgic for a minute, for those long ago 20's and somewhat carefree days.

But ... if the tradeoff is now getting to sit on the couch with my kid, laughing at the FRIENDS cast, and hearing Ross whine, 'We were on a break!' together, I'll take that deal.

I wonder if he knows about Smelly Cat yet?  Must find that episode!


*Joe ... not his real name.  Of course.