Shoes

I read a deeply disturbing story a week ago, a story about a young girl who was bullied and attacked by her classmates. They pinned her down, shouted racist remarks to her and cut off her dreads. Now, this story was fake, and the girl was never attacked and the boys in the story were punished for a crime they did not commit. Yet before we knew the story was false, before we knew the deceit and the lie, it was a girl… bullied… by her classmates. And that is where this story begins.

                Upon reading the story of the young girl my stomach flipped over, goosebumps permeated through my skin. It was an all too real reality for me dredging up a memory buried deep in the recesses of my mind, this memory resurfaced in full view as I read the words on my screen.  A story that many don’t know about me, I was bullied, severely, unequivocally, bullied. I know what you are saying, “we were all bullied.” It’s a rite of passage, moving through school-age into middle school and then eventually into high school. “Bullying happens.” And while the phrase doesn’t make it right, it does make it a reality. A reality in which so many children in this world face on a daily basis, and to the point of committing suicide at ages where they should still be playing with GI Joe’s and Barbie’s. (I know, I aged myself) We make children grow up way too fast, beg them to accept things their minds are too young to understand.

                This story tore at that part of me that suffered at the hands of my attackers, no one was there to help me. I was bullied to the point where the school brought in a special counseling unit in 6^th grade to interact with my class and myself on how their actions were hurting me and why they felt the need to do this to me? It wasn’t until 6^th grade that something was done about it. I had been in school since kindergarten. They discussed why the hand symbols (Anna aids) were used in my presence to indicate to other students that I was a disease and shouldn’t be touched. Speaking to me wasn’t a worthy conversation and forget friendship! Their reasons for these atrocities was something their pre-pubescent minds couldn’t explain. I was just different; they didn’t like different. They wanted the same. Maybe I was weird, maybe I didn’t match my clothes, maybe I was ADD, maybe I wasn’t smart enough, maybe my hair was too wildly curly and unkempt, it didn’t matter. They didn’t know, they didn’t understand, so they hurt the thing that didn’t make sense to them. It made them feel better about themselves. Regardless, the story of the girl and her hair surfaced a memory I had buried long ago.

I was riding home on the bus from school, sitting in a seat, alone staring out the window and minding my own business. I believe I was 2^nd or 3^rd grade and some boys behind me were berating me for quite some time. Yelling insults at me and laughing at themselves for being so clever and hurtful. It was a warm day and the windows on the bus were open. I remember the wind blowing through the windows rustling my hair, and drowning the sound of their laughter, their remarks, and their giggles. Suddenly, I felt something at my feet. HANDS! Hands grabbed my ankles and pulled them under the seat behind me. I slid face-first into the green vinyl backing of the seat in front of me, screaming and trying my best to kick the hands away to no avail. My arms frantically trying to make purchase on the seat and push my way back, a body moved into the seat next to me pressing my face further in to muffle the sound of my screams, holding my hands above my head so that his friend could finish the deed.

                My shoes! He was removing my shoes from my socked feet under the seat of the bus. His strong hands holding my kicks in place until he slid them off one by one. He was an older student, though now I couldn’t tell you his name nor remember his face, had pulled my feet under the seat to steal my shoes! After he slid them off my feet and his friend let me go he stood there proudly dangling my shoes in front of me as I was kneeling on the seat reaching at him trying to retrieve them. Laughing deep belly laughs at his accomplishment, red in his face at my frantic diving at his hands to retrieve my shoes, his friends high fiving him and laughing yelling taunts at me. He dangles my shoes outside the window of the bus. “I’m going to throw them, I’m going to throw them and then you won’t have shoes to wear. Poor little orphan Annie, no shoes for her to wear because no one likes her.” And then, this boy who had no other interactions with me other than to taunt and ridicule me, threw my shoes out the bus window. Tossed them like trash, and laughed his ass off in the process. I screamed, cried, and then the bus came to an abrupt stop. The driving having realized my shoes went out the window, stopped the bus and made the boy get out and get them for me.

                He did so begrudgingly and because she threatened to call the school and report him. (She never did by the way) The boy went out, walked back and picked up my shoes, threw them in my seat when he re-boarded the bus and smirked at me as the driver closed the door. She continued on her route, off-loading her riders at their pre-determined bus stops. Just a robot doing her job, annoyed with the slight hiccup in her route. While I was grateful to have my shoes back, I couldn’t help but feel angry that this boy did this, and wasn’t being punished for it. The driver quipping at me as I got off the bus, “never let them see you cry honey, this just gives them a reason to torment you.” The boy and his friends never received an ounce of punishment for what they did to me. Looking back, I don’t know who that boy was or if his future was bright, if he is successful in life, or if he continued this behavior of beating up on those he deemed beneath him, but I sure hope that he became a decent human being.

                What triggered this memory from that story? The manner at which she said it happened. Boys held her down and cut her hair, reminded me of being held down and my shoes removed. Yet my reaction to reading it was the same as everyone else, and I muttered the same exact words… “Everyone is bullied” Everyone suffers some form of bullying whether severe or lite there is a level of meanness in the world that is expanded in those who are unhappy with themselves. They decide to prey on those they have regarded as less worthy. Regardless of the why, this behavior is unacceptable. If the story was real those boys deserved every amount of punishment they received. What those boys didn’t deserve was being punished for something they didn’t do. How this little girl and her family received all this face time talking about this incident of bullying, that everyone felt terrible for her and how wrong and awful it was for those boys to have done that to her. She used this story knowing she knew would garner sympathy and apathy, utilizing that tool to bring down a couple of kids she didn’t like. And the truth is, the school isn’t punishing her for it. She wasn’t suspended like the boys were, she isn’t being punished even though in this sick twisted story she is the bully. SHE IS THE BULLY!

                If my story from 30 something years ago happened today, I could have been the girl in the story. The girl, victim of a brutal attack by people who just didn’t like her for whatever their reasons. Only, my story is true. My abuser was never brought to justice, my story never heard by the hordes of viewers who would talk about how terrible it was that any child would do something like that to another child. How that boy’s parents should be ashamed for raising a child that would do such horrible things to others? How I the victim deserved an apology and love and understanding. How the school, bus driver, parents, school district, and anyone condoning the abuse should be sued and punished to the fullest extent of the law for allowing such atrocities. Someone should have stood up for me! Someone should have been my friend! I was not worthy…

                I hope this girl learns from this mistake. That you shouldn’t lie about being bullied. It is a very real thing with very real consequences for the victim. It lives with them for the rest of their lives. In every interaction, in every story, in every part of their life no matter how much therapy, or medication, or just putting in the past and forgetting about it they do, IT LIVES WITH THEM FOREVER… You continue working around it to overcome and live your best life. Working to quell the demons as they rise and remembering that you are not that person anymore. You are not the girl that sat in that seat scared, crying, and alone. You speak up for yourself now, you vowed you would never allow someone to treat you like that ever again, that your voice would be heard and you would be a force to be reckoned. And that is what you become. A force so loud that it drowns out the voices telling you how insignificant you are to the world. It’s a battle each and every day.

Remember that the next time you decide to beat up on someone, remember that the next time you feel someone is overreacting to something and you don’t understand why. Remember that when you think it’s a rite of passage. Remember to help when you see an injustice. Remember is to teach your children kindness. But most importantly, remember that you are not alone, there are others out there just like you, we are here for you, we understand, and we only want you to be happy.

Unicorn Concept Story

Week 8: Unicorn

“I fucking hate Unicorn’s!” Erin screams out as she blasts yet another one with her flamethrower.

“These fucking beasts! Why can’t they just go back to their fucking island?”

Gabriel had just finished blasting another unicorn of his own when he looked at Erin and started laughing.

“A hey Erin, you got a little something on you.”

Erin looks at her arm.

“SON OF BITCH, fucking rainbow blood again. These fuckers can explode! You would think I would know better after five years, but NOOOOOO I keep getting sprayed like an amateur.”

“Ya, who would have known that five years after discovering Unicorn Island, we would be fighting these vicious creatures with flame throwers. FOREVER! Guess that mythical lucky charm legend was bullshit. Wish someone would have left us a note or something. Fucking ancestors and shit. Oh let’s banish these creatures to an island and not tell anyone, what could possibly go wrong?”

Erin snorts.

“Ya, like no one will ever discover this in the future and mess with it. They will know Unicorns are bad MMMKKKAAAYYY!”

Just then the familiar scream of a charging unicorn comes at them.

“I got it!” Gabriel yells out. And fires off his flame thrower, as soon as the flames hit the unicorn explodes.

“Jeeze these fuckers are coming out of the woodwork. Also would have been helpful to know they multiply like rabbits!”

“Fourscore and a million years ago, we placed these rapidly multiplying pieces of majestic nightmare on this island to protect humanity! Would have been a nice note to leave so that one day a scientist wouldn’t discover the island and go all Jurassic park on us.” Erin declared with her thrower in the air and leg on a rock.

“Ya, that was a good movie, at least you expect that from dinosaurs. Not magical creatures everyone thought were good luck. Fucking scientists can’t leave anything alone.” Smirked Gabriel

“Well at least we discovered what kills them. FIRE!!!” Erin beamed as she sighted up another.

Gabriel and I are assigned wall duty today as part of what is left of civilization.  Giant cement walls were built around major cities across the globe to protect what was left of life as we know it. Unicorns couldn’t fly, but they could jump pretty high. They were vicious, vial, mean creatures who were hell bent on wiping out humanity. No one understood how they got to the island, or why lore always had them as being lucky. They were organized too, which made fighting them a daily chore. I guess being banished to an island for God only knows how long gave them plenty of time to plan world domination. They are hell bent on eradicating humans from the planet.

Each shift spends the majority of the time wiping them out, but they multiply so rapidly it’s a never ending job. “Science” is working on a way to end the breeding, but it’s taking time. So we sit out here armed with flames trying to eradicate the unicorn invasion. We have been on this tour for about four months, only two months left before a month of well-deserved leave. And I can’t wait to spend some time doing non flame related things. Or having rainbow unicorn blood all over me. You’d think it would be good for your skin or something but NNNNOOOOO we have to wear hazmat suits. Fucking awesome.

“What are you going to do on your leave?” Erin askes Gabriel as she takes out another unicorn.

“Me, man I’m going to sit on the roof of my building with headphones on, a kiddie pool of water, and a large pitcher of mead and forget about fucking unicorns for at least a week.” Gabriel exclaims!

Fitting for a man named Gabriel to expel mythical creatures from the earth. If only we could figure out some sort of poison or something to wipe them out.

“Fuck here comes like 10 of them!” Gabriel exclaims as a herd of unicorn have decided to take out the two guards.

Erin lite up the wall! You see, they built a wall of flame throwers about 10 feet from the cement wall just for times like these. It’s actually a pretty spectacular sight. Flames and then rainbows! A juxtaposition of color, myth, legend, and reality. It could almost be considered beautiful. Like fireworks on the 4^th of July. Erin smiled at the thought.

“That wall is the most awesome thing EVER invented!” Erin says with a demon like tone.

“Ya, if it weren’t for that our hides would have been unicorn food.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure they’d spit your nasty ass out!” Erin elbowed Gabriel laughing.

“It’s good to not be delicious!!!” Gabriel elbows back.

And the two share a smile, before the next wave of attacks begin.

Week 18: Strategy

“LOOK OUT!!!” Gabriel screams just as Erin ducks below the stream of rainbow blood from yet another Unicorn attack.

“GOT IT!” Erin yells back as she turns slightly to her right to aim her flame thrower at another stampede.

“This is getting ridiculous.” She mutters. “They are becoming more organized, it’s like they are thinking with the same brain. How the hell are we supposed to stop this?”

Shrugging his shoulder Gabriel throws more flames down the field. “I don’t know Erin, but I think we need more people on shift. I guess our vacation time will have to wait a little longer. We should probably recall everyone and come up with a better plan.”

“Have the scientist’s come up with anything?” Erin askes exasperated.

“Nothing I’ve heard of yet. I thought they were trying to find something to spray in the air to prevent them from multiplying so fast.”

“I hope it’s soon, gear up, we have another stampede coming!”

A distress call comes through their coms.

Skish “Bravo team, bravo team, we need assistance to the south gate. Too many for just the two of us. Can you spare a hunter?”

“Spare? Are they crazy? We are barely holding it together out here!” Erin says

“That’s a negative Alpha team, we are being stampeded as we speak.” Gabriel calls out over the com.

“Roger Bravo. Eagle eye, Eagle eye, have any reserves you can send to help secure the gates? It’s getting dicey out here.”

“Roger Alpha, deploying more troops to the gates. ETA 20 minutes. Prepare for the wall of fire. Eagle eye out.”

“More troops?” Erin asks

“Wow, that’s a first!” Gabriel remarks

Just then the familiar sound of the air attack sirens goes off. Erin and Gabriel run for shelter. As the wall explodes in fire, you can hear the violent screams of the unicorns as they are incinerated. Rainbow blood explodes all around them. It’s both beautiful and haunting at the same time.

The wall of fire stops, and they get up access the damage.

“God I love that wall!?” Erin exclaims as the gate opens and expels two more troops.

“Hey Walter, how’s it hanging bro?” Gabriel reaches his gloved hand to shake Walter’s.

“Low and to the left my man, low and to the left. Heard you pussies needed some help!” Walter grinned out.

“Fuck you man, we were holding are own, it was Alpha team that called the distress in. Erin and I are kicking ass and taking names!”

Mavis pops her head around Walter. “Hey guys, can we save the ‘whose dick is bigger contest’ for later. We got work to do. We need to come up with a plan right Erin! Girl power plan!”

Erin laughs’ “If only their dicks shot fire, we’d be in good shape!”

“Hey ladies, you can’t handle all the man under this suit!” Walter pointing to his crotchal area.

“Ya, Ya, whatever, can we get back to the whole Unicorns trying to kill us part of our lives, I’d like to take a vacation this year.” Erin says exasperated.

“I heard the planes gearing up, which was odd considering we haven’t really been able to fly them too much, I wonder if they figured out the formula to stop the reproduction rate?” Mavis states.

Skish, “All units, all units, take cover and retreat to bunkers, prepare for wall of fire.”

“That’s odd, two times in a row?” Gabriel wondered out loud and scrambled for cover.

The sirens go off as they get into their positions, and then the hear the planes overhead.

“Huh, running the flames to provide cover for the planes? I wonder if they came up with a solution, or are testing something.” Erin wonders aloud.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Says Mavis

As the flames subside, and the planes move out of sight, the four hunters hunker down for the next fight.

Drink

WEEK 14: Drink

Clink

Cold condensation saturates the outside of the glass and runs across the tips of his calloused fingers. The glass makes a hollow glonk sound as it hits the wood of the bar. There is nothing quite like that sound. The sound of glass hitting wood, the cloud of smoke that surrounds his head. He is where he needs to be. He is where he is at home.

Clink

He taps his finger on the bar. That’s all he needs to do. The bartender hops right over and refills the glass. The brown liquid giving him new life.

Clink

He sits alone at the bar thinking about his life. Holding his glass with his smoke in his hand. His mistakes, his jobs. Wife one, wife two, kids everywhere.  “Fuck em” he thinks.

Clink

He thinks of jobs he once had. Labor jobs. That was the way a man provided for his family. A hard worker who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. His hands were dirty all right, calloused, cracked, and dried out he used them to do all sorts of odd jobs. He couldn’t really hold down any good jobs. The bureaucracy, the bad managers, the weird hours, the hard labor, the drink…

Clink

The hardworking man is a myth now a day. All the college graduates, soft hands, big bank accounts, nice clothes, nice cars, hot wives. Couple of rug rats running around in designer clothes, they know nothing of the labor of the hardworking man.

Clink

They were told to go to school, get a good job, make lots of money, fuck the little guy.

Clink

That’s why their wives stick around. Hot little numbers just money hungry and well-manicured. They don’t want the callous hands of a working man touching their soft skin. Hmph, they cringe at the mere sight of me. Good enough to work on their car, keep it safe for their rug rats. Not good enough to have a drink with. Bitches.

Clink

Tap

Refill

His ole ladies were never satisfied. They wanted more from him than he was willing to give. He liked his lifestyle of working when he wanted so he could drink. They wanted cars, clothes, food, electricity. Seriously what did they think there were going to get when they married the hardworking man?

Clink

He takes another sip. The brown liquid burns as it enters his throat. It feels good. It feels smooth. It’s a good pain. It washes away the lump in his throat. Reminds him that is all memories are, lumps in your throat to be eradicated with booze. He snubs out the butt of the cigarette he was holding in his fingers, and lights a new one. Drink and cig in hand he takes another sip.

Clink

Heaven, is a place for angels. Working men don’t go to heaven. They don’t go to paradise. There is no paradise for the hardworking man.

Clink

He thinks about his children, and how he’s failed them. Or have they failed him? Yeah, they failed him, so did all the ex-wives. He wasn’t to blame; he was a working man. They didn’t love him, didn’t appreciate him. Didn’t understand his paradise in this drink. They didn’t know the release and the satisfaction of it. He needed this. He deserved it, he worked and worked why should he work and come home to some yappy kids and a wife telling him how shitty he is. Fuck that.

Clink

He earned this drink.

Clink

He didn’t need anyone in his life. Just this bar, just this drink.

Clink

Tap

Refill

Fuck family, fuck life. He is right where he needs to be this working man. His unemployment is about to run out because he can’t get a job. There is just no place left in the world for the hardworking man. The damn state and government takes all his money, taxes, how the hell is he supposed to live? No respect for the working man.

Clink

No respect for him. For his situation. For his plight in life. He didn’t have the opportunities of those college grads. Parent that encourage and education. Hmph, he’s lucky his ole man didn’t beat him to death.

Clink

Told him he better get his ass out there workin cause he wasn’t going to pay his way. No one was going to pay the way of a piece of shit like him. He wanted money he better start working for it. The only thing he was going to be was a working man.

Clink

“Fuck my ole man”, good thing he is 6ft under. He’s the lucky bastard now that he’s dead. He thinks of his mom and the years she spent with that man. His mother, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit that woman was a Saint. Married to a working man. Who did not appreciate her. Who beat her. Who only loved her when he was sober. Or drunk. You couldn’t really tell.

Clink

Mom

Clink

If only he had someone to hold him and tell him, it was going to be alright.

Clink

If only he had been given the opportunities of these self-righteous manicured men, he would have been different. He wouldn’t have to be a hardworking man.

Clink.

Tap

Refill

Fuck em

Clink

Tap

Refill

It’s the world’s fault.

Clink

Tap

Refill

Things will be better when I’m dead.

Clink

I am a victim of Facebook guilt!

Raise your hand if you have fallen victim to Facbook guilt.

Ok put down your hands, you know you fall prey to all the things people post, publish, and say on Facebook. The things that make you feel bad about yourself, your decisions, what you did or didn't do. Or even the things that made you go, " I guess I didn't really think this through, maybe I shouldn't have given my kids immunizations, maybe I should save every animal, maybe I shouldn't wear Pink in October for Breast Cancer, maybe I should change my political party, or not believe in God because that makes me dumb. Or maybe I just take things personally, I don't know but here are a list of things I am guilty of according to Facebook.

1. I covered when I breastfed.
2. I got immunizations for my children.
3. I got fat. I let myself go, I am a disgusting human being for allowing this weight to overtake my body. shame, shame, shame.
4. I am a republican.
5. I believe in God, and in Jesus Christ. (go figure)
6. I did not do every craft with my kids I have seen on Pintrest. ( and when I try, they don't always turn out well) ( that's what they made fail blog for.)
7. I did not homeschool my children. I sent them to public school. ( I know I'm a terrible person)
8. I did not actively take photos of every milestone in my kids lives. ( I'm lucky I remember to take photos)
9. I do not make my own, laundry soap, dish soap, shampoo, conditioner, cleaning spray, finger paint, play doh, dryer sheets, clothes, quilts, scarves, beds, furniture, eye shadow, lip stick, lip gloss, cold medication, air freshener, toothpaste, mouth wash, face wash, soap, furniture polish, toilet paper, paper towels, reusable plastic baggies, cat food, dog food, flea treatment, bug spray, Windex, Christmas decorations, chair covers, couch covers, curtains, towels, carpets, hair spray, moose, pillows, blankets, paint, gas, oil, cooking spray, etc... etc... ( I waste money on all that crap)
10. I do not get up in the morning with a smile and my face and a positive disposition.
11. I yell at my kids.
12. I do not rescue every animal I see. (I know it seems like it, but I let a few go)
13. I don't always remember to say Happy Birthday.
14. I don't have a super clean house. ( I have a super tiny, grossly disorganized one)
15. I am not organized.
16. I am not an advocate for anything to the point of beating down everyone who is also not an advocate.
17. I wear Pink in October ( and most months) Even though it trivializes Breast Cancer. ( Because it is the way I know to support those who suffer)
18. I know for a fact, not all babies can be saved no matter what you do.
19. I have a relationship with my family.
20. I don't go to the gym regularly and work out.
21. I don't always eat healthy. Those damn french fries are my Achilles heal. And chips..
22. I apparently inundate Facebook with useless thoughts from my head. ( guess I'm doing that now)
23. I drink alcohol.
24. I smoke even though I'm going to die. (in this day and age I should know better)
25. I am not fiscally responsible.
26. I believe you should work hard, and not get hand outs.
27. I got a useless degree. And I paid for it. ( I know crazy right)
28. I don't work a phenomenal job that everyone is so impressed with.
29. I don't shame you for not believing the way I do.
30. My kids are not perfect, straight A students that I must boast about at all times. ( but they are mine and I love them)
31. My husband drives me nuts sometimes. I drive him nuts. It's an equal partnership of nut driving. (That's what she said)
32. We are not perfect. I know it's hard to believe, but geeze we just can't get perfection down.
33. I like meat. ( I have seen the cow slaughtered, I know where it comes from, I still eat it. And Bacon. Bacon is good. )
34. I am not environmentally friendly. ( I recycle, I compost, but I also drive a Hemi.. I'm sure my great-grandkids will thank me for that.)
35. I hate romance.
36. I feed my family crap sometimes. Not always, but sometimes, I'm just not that organized for every day non-crap feeding. We stop at McDonald's. I know the horror of it all. It's just so sad....
37. I do not believe guns kill people, I believe people kill people.
38. I like guns.
39. I believe my kids should pay for their own college.
40. I love my family all of them, everyone, no matter who they are, what they have done, or where they are, I love them.
41. I love the gays. ( I know, I know it's against my religion, but I'm certainly not going to go to hell for loving people)

I'm sure I could go on and on, but I think you get my point.


 I am only posting this because I am sick and tired of being beat down by Facebook. Everyone has their own lives, everyone has their own beliefs. Do not bash me for mine, as I have not bashed you for yours. Stop making people feel guilty. Facebook is the forum for providing encouragement, prayers, thumbs up, staying connected with friends and family, and a million other things. It should not be the place where people go to pick on people for their beliefs, or lifestyles, or choices. I may not agree, but I respect your belief, I respect your right to believe that way, and in no way do I believe you are somehow uneducated, dumb, or just do not pay attention to the world around you. You are who you are, I am who I am, and we are all going to live harmoniously in this life of craziness. I am on Facebook for you. Not for what you believe, but for who you are. So stop the Facebook bashing. And Love each other for who you are, love yourselves. Be proud of every accomplishment, and mistake. Take pride in your life, and always respect each other.

And please don't take offense. This was meant to be funny.

Justice for Caylee!

As I know most of you have seen, the verdict for Casey Anthony came down at 2:15 yesterday after a jury of her peers only deliberated for 10 hours. As with most of America anger swept through the crowds as it was announced that Casey was found "not guilty" on all major charges and "guilty" on the charges of lying to police. Well actually providing false information to law enforcement officers, but I'm not going to split hairs. I can say that with most of America I was angry, and felt like the justice system had grossly let down this 2 year old girl who died of causes unknown, and had a mother who did not report her missing for 31 days. So by the time the proper authorities were notified and by the time her body was found, all evidence of how she died, or who had been involved were all gone. How very sad for this child, to not have justice for her name. And how sad for her family. Then my mind took over and I analyzed the evidence before me.
To say the justice system failed is actually false. The justice system in it's set-up is what actually won the case. And don't think the jury thinks she is innocent because of the "not guilty" charge, they have to go by evidence. I go back to the days when I was in college and searching through case law after case law to answer homework questions. I have my bachelors in criminal justice and so once I sat down and thought about the evidence before me, I understood why the jury came back with the verdict it did. There was no smoking gun. There was no evidence that tied Casey to Caylee's death. Though the car may have reeked of decay there were no fluids in the car. There was no empty roll of duct tape found at the home, nor was there any sign of the brand of duct tape found at the scene. The heart stickers did not match any of the ones obtained from the home. The only thing that tied Casey to any crime was her lies about where her daughter was and the wild goose chase she led detectives on after her mother reported her to the police. The evidence was all circumstantial to the case. Yes this is how they found her, yes this was what surrounded her, yes Casey's answers were sketchy lies, however; nothing actually ties her to the death or disappearance of her daughter.
This may come off as callous and don't think for one second that I don't believe she is guilty of something. Whether it be murder, or just plain stupidity Casey Anthony is guilty! Guilty of being a young mother who did not place her child first. Guilty of not caring that her daughter was gone, guilty of partying and lying. She is guilty of a million things! However, there is no evidence that she was guilty of murder, and as a jury you can not place guilt on emotions, you have to go by what evidence is brought forth to you. And unfortunately nothing in that evidence ties Casey to the murder of her daughter. Not even an accidental death cover up, which we all know is false but Baez apparently felt that was a strong enough defense, and he was right. It was strong enough, and there just wasn't enough to say she did anything wrong to her child other than not reported her missing, and lied to investigators.
Now, even though the verdict came back "not guilty" and more than likely she may either be released on Thursday for time served, or have to spend one more year in jail, Casey's life is effectively over. And such a young life that is. Her life is over because even though she was found "not guilty" the world sees her as guilty, as a young mother who no longer wanted the responsibility of taking care of a child. Her life is over because she dragged her family through the mud. Accusing her father & brother of molestation and her mother of ignoring it. Over because she will never be able to get a job, she will never be able to have friends that trust her, and over because her family may never accept her back into their lives. She would really have been better off in jail because there are no answers for anyone to fall back on, there is no other person to blame but her for the young life lost.
So though we are all plagued with anger that our Justice System failed this little girl, the reality is that Casey Anthony will no longer have the life she knew. She will forever have to live with the guilt of losing her daughter to whatever means, she will forever have to deal with the lies she told, she will forever have to deal with the family she betrayed, and she will forever have to deal with the country who will not stand behind her. We believe that she was guilty, we believe that she lied, and we believe that she just got off scot free, however; Casey will have to endure her own hell for the rest of her life.

Paleo Challenge and Chase

Wow, it's been awhile since I wrote. It's been a busy year. But I decided it was time to start writing again.

My 8 yr old son Chase is a chunky monkey, and since I have been working hard at trying to lose weight, I figured it was time to get him involved as well. So I signed him up for a cross fit kids class at my gym. Which he loves. However, they have three weeks left and his trainer decided to give the kids a Paleo challenge. If you don't know what a Paleo diet is, it is basically going back to the days of the cave man. Nothing processed, no grains, no dairy, just lean meats, veggies, and fruit. Eggs are ok, because they are a protein and not a dairy. So I went to Trader Joes and bought almonds, almond butter, and some trail mix for in his lunch box. I already had an abundance of fruits and veggies from the fresh produce market, and now it's just putting it all together.

My son who wants to win the "prize" for whoever has the most points at the end of the challenge, does not want to do the work for said prize. This morning was a challenging morning as my daughter would not wake up for school, my box o'wine leaked in my fridge, and Chase did not want to wake up in time for school. So after fighting them to get up I went to make Chase breakfast, his usual waffles or pancakes was out, so I made him an egg, with a side of strawberries, and he went into melt down. Putting his feet firmly on the ground and setting his jaw, "I am not going to eat this!" I said "Chase you have 10 minutes before we have to leave for the bus, I don't have time for stubborn this morning, you need to eat this so you won't miss your bus and it's part of your challenge!" So I went into the kitchen to make his lunch for him to take to school, and in it I packed, grilled chicken chunks, and sliced apples, almond butter, carrots and celery, and a bottle of water. I need to go get some almond milk or something. I also put in one of his little trail mix bags. Well the nuts set him off. "I told you I don't want the nuts." He says, I tell him "Honey, you may want to eat them as a snack, and if you try them, you may just like them." So finally after the fighting, he reluctantly eats his breakfast, brushes his teeth and we get out the door by 8:35. Thankfully his bus was running late this morning. I'm not sure how this Paleo thing is going to work, but I'm sure going to give it a try. Hopefully after a few days he will quit fighting me!!!

Mammogram

For those of you who have not had the pleasure of a mammogram.. just wait, for those of you who have, I'm sure you can relate.

As I am not 40 yet I had not really thought about the actual act of the mammogram until early this week, when my doctor suggested I have one due to some lumps I had found. I have fiber cystic breasts and have felt lumps since 1999, however; they seemed to be spreading and I found some new ones and was concerned. So on Monday my doctor in a very enthusiastic tone, said "YAY, you are over 30 I can order a mammogram for you." *joy*

I didn't sleep much Monday night, not so much nervous about the test itself, I was nervous about the fact I couldn't wear deodorant for the day, or perfume, or powder, or lotion, or anything to cover any potential body odor I may drudge up during the course of my day since my appointment wasn't until 1:45. Any lotions, deodorants, or powders can show up on the x-ray. I'm a big a woman, I sweat sometimes, I was scared for whoever had to perform my mammogram I may knock them out with a stench unknown to man! So I made sure to put my deodorant in my purse, wore a shirt and sweater so I could spray my sweater with perfume and it wouldn't touch my skin, and also made sure I extra scrubbed my pits in the shower that morning.

As I arrive at my appointment they tell you to put on this little half gown that barely covers the girls, let alone my ample figure, and wait for them to call you back. So I wait, now not only self conscious of my body odor (which I didn't notice any but was still nervous) but also self-conscious about my fat rolls hanging out everywhere, and starting to get nervous about the mammogram itself. So this very sweet technician (thank GOD she was nice) calls me back and proceeds to explain what she is going to do. Take x-rays of the breasts using this innocuous looking machine. OK, no problem, I can handle this. So she tells me to untie my shirt, which I do and then she puts band aids over my nipples. I wasn't expecting that, no one tells you they are going to put band aids over your nipples. However, the band aids have little metal dots on them. This is to give the doctor looking at your x-ray an idea of the shape of your breast.

So she tells me to stand in front of the machine facing forward left arm up as we are working on the left girl and this is when I realize, OMG I really need to lose, weight, or have a reduction, or an augmentation, or something, well actually I realized it somewhat when she put the band aids on as she had to look down to find them. ANYWHO, she handles my mammies like a ball of dough, pliable, moving it whichever way necessary to get it to lay on the shelf the way needed them to, molding, kneading, I had to laugh to myself, "Welp, I'll never handle bread dough the same way again." She gets me all lined up, and then the horror begins. This flat, flat, did I mention flat panel comes down on top of your tender part and well flattens it out onto the shelf. Oh did I mention I was well endowed? And well the machine presses down so far and you think, "Oh this isn't so bad." Until you notice the little knob on the side to which she starts turning, and your mammies get flatter, and flatter, and the skin pulls a little tighter, and you think "Well this stings a little." AND THEN she says "OK, don't move, don't breath. Hold your breath." and walks behind her little wall to press the button. "DON'T BREATH?????" "REALLY!!!" OK, so usually you breath through pain, but nope, no breathing. Really though that part isn't so bad. So the left one gets smashed three times, the right one twice. She says "Wait here while I develop these and you need to have a sonogram done on your arm pits since you found lumps there."

So I go have the sonogram done on my armpits. This time a very nice gentleman who asks if I would like a chaperon. In my mind I'm thinking, "Really? I'm sure there are much hotter woman you would rather molest than me." So I say "No I'm good." And 15 minutes and slimy armpits later I'm done.

So the very sweet mammy kneading torture queen comes to find me to say the doctor found an area on the left side he is concerned about and would like another picture done. I say "OK" and walk back to the mammography room. She proceeds to take the flat panel off the machine and puts on one that looks like the underside of a cup holder for in your car. Like I could have put my cup of coffee in the top, only it wasn't the top that was going to be smashing my breast, it was the bottom part. She looks at me and says, " This one has the paddle on it to spread the tissue out further to get a better look." I looked at her and said "Ya, that one looks a little more dangerous." She laughed and proceeded to position the breast on the shelf like before. I was actually a little more nervous this time. That "paddle", "cup holder of death" whatever you want to call it, was a little intimidating. So she gets me all lined up and then the smashing begins. No, not smashing, imagine a ball of dough, take the bottom of a glass and smash it against that ball of dough, then make sure to press just a little harder in one area of the ball of dough to ensure you have it smashed out correctly, and proceed to tell the ball of dough to not move or breath while you run to your little wall to take a picture of that ball of dough. Ya, it was something like that..

So after that she says "Let me run this to the doc for another look." So I've decided to walk it off and not "have a seat" as she suggested, and walk around the room. Waiting... Waiting.... Waiting... She comes back, with a sinister look on her face, SINISTER I TELL YOU, and says, "I'm sorry but the doctor sees another area he would like a shot of." REALLY!!! With the "cone of death" you mean? So I pony up to the shelf yet again this time it's a little closer to the end of the breast. She proceeds to knead, I mean position my now tender and fragile mammy, and then the decent of the "paddle of doom" onto my already sore and probably never going to be the same breast..... again. Then comes the knob, then hold your breath, don't move. I have to say by this point that did pinch a little. And done! Whew, I think by now the worry about sweating and having body odor had gone out the window because, my brow was a bit moist, my muscles a bit tense, and my underarms could care less.

So we go through the same wait game, this time, I sit, there was no "walking off the pain" and for what seems like an eternity, she comes in to say that he still sees a dense area, and would like a sonogram done on that area. So we go back to the sonogram room with the male technician who this time does not ask if I need a chaperon as the "wicked breast torture queen" stayed anyway, and proceeds to perform the sonogram on my breast. Never thought a sonogram could hurt before. But my already tender, tortured, flattened, and had decided to give up breast, hurt a little in all this moving of the probe around it. And let me just say that warm sonogram gel, on sore, does not equal pleasant.

So finally the doctor evaluates all the information and sees that there is nothing wrong. Praise the Lord for that. 2 hours, 7 x-rays and 2 sonograms later, and I do not have Breast Cancer. Which is a good thing. I do however, 2 days later have tender breasts, but a higher appreciation for those who have to do this yearly, and for those fighting and surviving breast cancer. I am thankful the doctors did all that work to ensure that I was OK. Though funny and painful, it is a great blessing. And I decided to share this for those of you who have not quite had the pleasure of a mammogram and to remind you all to do your monthly breast examinations. If you find anything you are unsure about, contact your doctor immediately! Only you can catch it first, be proactive in your health care and mark my words, WATCH OUT FOR THE PADDLE!!!!!