Are You Rapture Ready?

So are you rapture ready? Me and my homegirls decided to dress up in our hooker-best for the occasion! (That’s me all hooker-licious in the photo to the left) Gina got busy drinking the Shiner Bock, Vicki was sippin back on the UV Lemonade Vodka with Diet 7 Up and I started off with Fat Tire beer, rounded second with a Samuel Adams Boston logger, and last but not least made sure that my glass never reached empty on the cheap ass vodka I picked up at the Discount Liquor store down the road. Of course I gotz to mixed that stuff with a little Sierra Mist Natural. Geez, do I sound like a commercial?

The other day Noah tells me this strange news…”Mom” he said cracking a smile, “Did you know the world is going to end on Saturday?” I thought thought to myself “Why didn’t I get that memo?” You’d think that would be really important information right? It must be that damned computer of mine acting up again, because it never allowed through the memo that the world was going to hell in a hand basket. (Can you tell I’ve been partying a little tonight?) Ok, so yesterday Mr. Sexy news anchor Anderson Cooper comes on and talks about the end of the world and this is what he has to say:

And of course since the dreamy Coop said it, it must be true right? Anyway, as I said in the beginning of my post, we dressed in our hooker best, and decided to document the whole thing from beginning to end. Only one problem…we were never taken up like Harold Camping said would happen. I thought for sure I was on the right track when we put on our make up, got a good buzz going and had a LOT of fun taking all the pictures. I was hoping for a little levitation, but that never happened as you can see from the photos that will follow. What did we do wrong ya’ll? Maybe I didn’t drink heavily enough to watch something float! Why do I say that? Well, because you have to be totally drunk or high to believe that God would set a date for the end of the world. Shit, even I got that memo!

We had sooooo much fun though, I must say. Thanks Uncle Jack for inspiring us to dress like hookers, drink like lushes and hope for the best! Here are some photos of our night LOL ENJOY!

My homegirl (and daughter Gina) asking the vital question of the evening.

Vicki in the first photo looking all sexy and rapturous, and in the second photo proudly displaying her rapture birds. Aren’t they so cute?

Are You Ready for Economic and Social Collapse?

Normally, economic and social unrest sit in the back of my brain throbbing and pulsating like a deep migraine ready to explode. These days however, the throbbing has moved to the forefront of my brain, creating the perfect storm within me for a rant. I guess this is a rant of sorts, even though I feel fairly contained and at peace right now. I have questions, because I guess I want to know if others feel this economic and social unrest? Do you think our country is in for a major economic collapse? Beyond an economic collapse always follows a social collapse…are you concerned with this as well? Maybe its just a small percentage of us in the U.S. and around the world that are concerned, but I truly want to know what you all think.

How will the economic collapse of the dollar affect you personally? Have you invested in silver and gold as your “backup plan” or is it just a way to diversify your portfolios? What would happen if that gold and silver was confiscated by the government, as can be done in a TIME OF WAR? What would you do then? My point is that paper money can not feed or care for you and neither can gold and silver. Huh? What was that you say? Well, haven’t you ever heard the expression “money doesn’t grow on trees”? I’m sure all of you have. What good is gold and silver if there is no food to eat? If you can’t go out and buy it? You’d have to hoard food now for any impending crisis, and for how long do you believe that will last you? It won’t last. It will spoil or rot, unless its canned foods. Gold and silver can definitely pay to keep the electric on, pay for gas, and other utilities, but for how long? What happens in the event of social collapse and the major infrastructure of your town or city is no longer functioning correctly? How will silver and gold help that little predicament? It can’t. My point is that silver and gold, while important and valuable is not the end all-be-all for making it through an economic and social breakdown. Anyone that does have a portfolio knows that you never put all your “eggs” in one basket, and the same is true with gold and silver.

So what else can you invest in? Invest in purchasing and planting fruit trees and learn how to grow food in a sustainable way. The investment in all kinds of fruit trees, vegetables, grains, nuts, and livestock will create real food not only for you and your family, but for your community. It is an actual commodity that others can not live without. Investing in your own fruit trees, nut trees, veggies, grains and livestock also creates an increasing yield each year if managed properly. I know that when these kinds of questions about surviving come up, the first thing we think of is Y2K. Everyone who believed that our world was going to hell in a hand basket started building bunkers and hoarding food for when the collapse happened…it never did happen. Hoarding food and gold and silver is not the answer. It just perpetuates the same problems over and over. Why? Because people have not learned how to actually grow good food…to get down upon your knees and plant some seeds. Growing food is not a method of survival…it is a way to thrive regardless of the economy. It creates a firm foundation in which you can assist others in learning how to thrive as well. Our economy is consumer based and not product based, and in order to begin to reverse this trend, we will need to start getting on our knees and actually produce things of real value. One seed can produce and produce, year after year, and without getting into the politics of big pharma genetically engineering and patenting seeds NOT to produce, buy organic seeds and watch those seeds perform endlessly. A $2.50 package of organic seed will provide a yield where you will no longer ever have to buy that kind of seed or fruit or veggie again. $2.50 investment and never have to pay for another zuccini, tomato, watermelon, wheat product, rice, and anything else that can be grown in the ground. Purchase an organic fruit tree for $25.00 and that tree will bear you fruit each year for that one time investment. $25.00 and never have to pay for another apple, pear, plum, peach or what ever else will grow in your region. It seems such a small investment, but few do it. How about owning chickens and never having to pay for another egg or poultry product? Some may say “I don’t have enough land” but to that I say, do a little homework and research and you will find out that you can in fact grow a huge amount of food on a very small plot of land. It also gives you the opportunity to create community gardens. We have just forgotten or haven’t been taught in the first place to grow things. Its either a novelty, or a “lower occupation”, which has been taken advantage of by big corporations.

If it takes a good three years for fruit trees to produce from the time you plant them, why not start now? Even if there is no economic collapse or social unrest? The least you will be doing is utilizing your hard earned (almost worthless) dollar on something else you may want after planting some real products. I have a dream which is becoming a reality for me and my family, the dream of thriving and producing something of real value that not only helps to create stability to us, but to our community that surrounds us as well.

One of the things I find repugnant are actions of well meaning people here and abroad that believe that they are the saviors of others by providing goods to developing and/or impoverished nations. What will happen to them in the event of our own economic and social collapse? Will we actually be traveling to those distant exotic lands to put store bought goods into their bellies, and claim we are helping them? We can’t help them unless we teach them to grow their own food, show them how to get access to clean water, and when we stop making them think that they should be thankful to us for the handouts. Because you know what?? they won’t be thankful when you don’t come anymore. They will think they have been abandoned. We will never truly help others until we learn how to put the tools in their hands (and our own!) that will fight poverty. Learning to grow food and share the surplus. Honestly, in an economic crisis, are you really going to be concerned with the well being of starving people thousands of miles away? I AM! I’m concerned that we have made them dependent on our way of life which, if we open our eyes, is in danger of extinction. In the end, I believe that those in poverty has been defrauded of what they really need. They need to know how to care for themselves, and instead they have been enslaved by many well meaning people who think candy, bread, pasta and other commodities (even medicines) will help them out of their plight. How many have gone oversees and taken pictures with these poor people, holding and cuddling their babies? And how many took a picture with these people while working along side them in a field, teaching them how to be self sufficient…not just to survive, but to THRIVE? They hang around the cities, pour loads and loads of food, clothes and other products into their laps and then leave at the end of the week. Yes I’m ranting about this…well I’m railing on this topic, because when we can NO LONGER provide these kinds of services what will happen? What? Out of sight out of mind? Will we really even care? Or will we say “I did the best I could, now I have to take care of my family. I can’t afford the trip to that distant land to bring candy and toys to these “poor” children I need to find a way to provide candy and toys for my own.” I know that some (or a majority) of people will take offense to what I’ve said, but that is the truth, hard and cold. I’m sorry to burst the “good will” bubble and self congratulating attitude of those who think they are doing good, but unfortunately all you have done is create an even longer slow death of these indigenous cultures, who for thousands of years were able to create their own medicines, clothing, goods and services. We have globalization to thank for that one. It is a slow and painful death which we bring to these people, and in the end, bring upon ourselves if we do not begin to make a change.

Why is the American Dream to own a home, have a couple cars, a couple of kids that go to college, and to keep buying shit? Why is that the American Dream? Its more like the American Nightmare, from which we will not be waking up anytime soon. The American Dream should be about freedom and independence, but we are neither free nor independent. We think we are because we have money in the bank and we have a job. But as we can see over the last few years, more people are losing their homes, their jobs, even their families. We think “this can’t happen to me”, but it can. I have had this throbbing ache in the back of my head since the year 2001, and I remember thinking back then how much better it would be if we knew how to grow things, live off the land and live in a new way. Ten years later, we are on road to making our dream an actual reality. Back then the only talk in circulation happened before the year 2000 with the Y2K event, and I was not worried about that in the least.

My American Dream is to be able to grow fresh fruits and veggies, livestock, honey, grains and to be able to pass this knowledge on to my children and my children’s children. There is so much information out there on how to grow fruits and veggies naturally without the use of fertilizers and pesticides. Ways of caring for animals that’s simple. How far we have strayed from real knowledge. We go to college to get a degree, but what will that piece of paper do for you if you can’t get a decent job? Worse yet, what if you already have a great job that pays quite well, but all your bills and mortgage keep you tied to that job and POOF! your job is gone because you are expendable? What then? How do you feed your family? How do you care for your community? What true worth is there in money? Even gold and silver? We all need to eat, yet the knowledge to actually produce our own food is quite limited or non existent for the average person. Utilize the internet to learn how to produce real products that will help your family and community.

To summarize my long winded rant, don’t hold on to tightly to that money, gold or silver that you believe will save you or at least get you through. Unless you own your home outright, it is not an asset, but a liability. If you pay a mortgage, it is a liability until you own it outright. An asset pays you! What are your real assets right now? If the housing market continues to decline as it has, you won’t be able to even sell it and break even. We are just getting started on our road to freedom and independence, and this spring will begin our investment into an agrarian life. Our home is owned outright, so no mortgage, but for those who do have a mortgage, start investing fruit trees and other real products onto that land, so that your liability will start to become an asset for you. Let your land pay you back! It could in the end guard your greatest investment (your house) from foreclosure. If we are not headed for an economic collapse, then you can go into your yard and smile as you pick fresh fruits and vegetables for your family to enjoy before going on that long awaited vacation you’ve been saving a year to go on. I’m not against buying things, raising the standard of living and enjoying the finer things in life, but just as you “don’t put all your eggs in one basket” when it comes to saving and investing, you have literally put them all in one basket because one crucial element has been neglected…sowing and harvesting of real products.

Here are a few videos that I feel should alarm everyone:

TSA Screening and Molestation

We all want to be safe right? We all want to know that when we get onto a plane that our lives are in good hands, but don’t you think that it goes a little too far to have naked images of us taken in order to keep us safe? How about my children? My children travel a few times per year and I don’t want naked photos of them kept at anytime, nor do I want someone viewing them naked even in that moment. Wouldn’t that be called child pornography? Is it just me, or does this seem so bizarre? I’ve read reports that Americans think the TSA new screening and enhanced pat downs are a good idea. What? are you on crack? Why would you think that’s a good idea? Why would anyone think that’s a good idea? It violates us as humans on every level. Rape survivors for one could have a major problem with this type of procedure, which could trigger traumatic memories in him/her. Children who are taught at a young age about not letting others touch you in your private parts are now told to submit to a stranger touching them WHILE their parents watch. It takes away our rights as parents to protect our children from predators, which is MY GOD GIVEN RIGHT, it makes a man stand there and watch helplessly as another man touches his wife inappropriately and he can do nothing about it. It violates us, and we’ve been sold a bill of goods stating that this keeps us safe! Really?

Some may think, “what the fuck is the big deal? who cares woman! as long as we are safe!” Really? You think that is what keeps us safe? It doesn’t! As a matter of fact, we are more unsafe now because of such things. Why are we less safe? Well, lets start with the fact that we have NO PRIVACY! That’s right, no privacy, it is taken from us. How can a person feel safe if their very privacy has been violated? Ok so that’s not so bad right? You can always Opt Out of having that screening, and then ‘thank god’ all you have to do now is go through the enhanced pat down! Oh that makes me feel REALLY SAFE! It will make me feel extra secure knowing that if I opt out of the screening, that someone can molest me instead! Gee I feel so much better knowing that! Bullshit. Major bullshit, hot, steaming and smelling to the high heavens. But what if you wanted to opt out of both the advanced screening AND the pat down? Oh, well at the discretion of the TSA they can file a civil suit against you up to $11,000 for not cooperating as well as denying you the right to fly, even though you already paid for that ticket! That makes me feel SUPER safe, how about you? Don’t you see? You have no safety. There is no guarantee that these machines will keep us safe. Its a false sense of security. The only thing that these machines have done is line the pockets of those who sold them. That’s it.

Maybe it comes down to the voyeuristic nation that we have become. Personally I find it very creepy that others would be looking at me at the airport or groping me. Then again, that’s just me. I’m not fond of others watching me as though I were some sort of lab rat, or better yet as though I were a terrorist. LOL What’s the difference between the TSA stating that these things need to be done to us and to our children, and a pedophile in a car with an injured puppy asking a child for their help? To me, there is none! I’m sorry to have such strong opinion about these things (no I’m not sorry), but pedophilia is pedophilia whether it’s done by some disgusting deviant on the street that just got out of jail, or by a TSA officer touching my minor child or looking at his or her naked body. No DIFFERENCE! It is sexual assault, especially if you are not given a choice. What are your choices? Don’t fly. LOL Then that is the ONLY way you can maintain your safety 100%.

Join National Opt Out Day

Here are a few videos I thought would be good to watch:

The Strangest Thing I’ve Ever Received in the Mail

Today a package arrived and I must say that it is the strangest thing I’ve ever received in the mail. On August 15, 2010 my mother died in her sleep. I received a phone call from my sister in the middle of the night telling me that she had passed on, and my first thought was “I want her ashes.” I know that some might think that cremation is not the best way to preserve the dead, but for me it was the perfect solution. I felt that I could finally have a part of my mother that had not been present in my life since I was less than nine years old. I hadn’t spoken to my mother in a very long time, and the last time I actually saw her was the day my sister and I got on a plane to come out and live with my dad. I was nine years old. I’m almost 42 years old and its about time that I am reunited with her.

I don’t have anything good to say about my mother, unfortunately, because I didn’t know her. I can’t make up some bogus feelings to get all mushy and gushy since she died, but needless to say, I’m very happy that she arrived in the mail. That sounded so strange didn’t it? Yes, my mom arrived today in a box along with her death certificate. I can’t go back and rewrite my relationship with her, nor can I deny the hurt she has caused to myself and siblings, but I can now say that she is finally resting and at peace. I forgave my mother a very long time ago for all the ways she hurt me and my siblings, and I truly wished her no ill will through out her life.

My mother never got to meet my children, experience the beauty of their souls, get to know each of them or even look into their eyes. I’ve shared with my children when they were old enough to understand, the kind of life my mother chose for herself. There is nothing to be ashamed of on my part in sharing who their grandmother was. I’m not ashamed of my mother for being a heroin addict and prostitute, or for all the time she has spent in prison. No, there is nothing to be ashamed of, and I want my children to understand that each person gets to choose for themselves the kind of life they want to live. Some feel they are trapped by circumstances, others want to be victims, but as for my mother, I choose to believe that while she was an addict, she lived her life to the fullest that she could.

After her death, I talked to a man who shared his life with her over the past 15 or more years. I’m fuzzy on the exact amount of time they were together, but I must say that the only time I cried after my mother’s death was while speaking to her partner. This man loved my mother with all that was in him. His heart was broken in a million pieces when he awoke to find my mother had passed away as she slept next to him. He loved her. My heart broke for him and I couldn’t help but grieve with him. Yet I had no feelings of my own concerning her death at that time. I accept that I feel this way…at least it’s honest.

I emailed my brother today to thank him for sending mom to me in the mail (still sounds so bizarre!) and he wrote me back to tell me that after he had sent some of my mom’s ashes to her partner and after receiving them, he died…it was as if he refused to die (he had an advanced form of cancer) until she was in his hands. His wishes where that they be buried together in a plot he already had. He got his wish, and now he too is resting and at peace buried with the woman he loved with all that was in him.

The feelings I have now concerning my mother’s death, is that I finally have a part of her that I can keep with us. Her ashes will be divided into several different parts, and she will be buried in the earth beneath different fruit trees on our property. Some ashes will be reserved and sealed and I will be taking them with me to Israel to bury her in Hebron. The significance of planting her beneath fruit trees is profound to me; although I never got to experience my mother as a nurturing and loving soul, filled with wisdom, understanding, strength and dignity, I know that in her death, she will nourish many of the fruit trees we will be planting on our property, provide fruit in season, shade in the summer, branches for birds and other animals to dwell in, sing to us on windy days as the leaves from the trees gently whisper a soulful tune, grace us with the sweetest of fragrance in spring time as blossoms perfume the air, and as the fruit set and ripen, the most deliciously sweet fruit you will ever taste will enter your mouth and quite possibly even your soul. This is the beauty of a fruit tree, this shall be how I choose to honor my mother.

Back to School

Well, its that time of year again where kids everywhere flock back to school. The clothes are purchased, the school supplies are bountiful and the nervous excitement comes over them as they begin to bring wrap their minds around another year of school. “What will my teachers be like? Will I be in classes with my friends? What pretty girl or good looking boy will I meet?” For my son Noah, its just a little different than that. He will be entering a new school district where he doesn’t know any of the kids. The apprehension was running high for him over the last few days because of a mix up in where he thought he would be attending. We live in the village of Los Lunas, and just assumed that he would be attending the Los Lunas Middle School, so my husband took him down to register him there. Noah was very impressed with the school and was truly excited and looking forward to going there. Then bad news struck from across the street. We live across the street from a retired sheriff who actually works at the school Noah should have been signed up for. My neighbor started talking about the school and filling Noah in on the kinds of kids that attend, but Noah had his heart set on going to the other middle school. Nothing would snap him out of the bad news. He had visions of some back woods school where guns and knives were the norm I think. Yesterday I had to take him to the “other” middle school and he was dreading it the whole drive. I found the address of the school, and that is where the odyssey of actually reaching the destination began! Google driving directions let me down big time as drove in circles around the same area thinking that I must have left out a street or something like that. We were driving for well over an hour, asking random people if they knew where the school was…to no avail. We called the school for directions, yet the directions they gave were not helpful at all, especially since all the major street signs out on the mesa were non-existent. Driving down long stretches of road in the desert, turning around and going in another direction was just making me nuts! Finally we pull into an elementary school and decide to ask there for directions. Did we get proper directions from this elementary school? NO! Finally a parent in the school was able to give us the actual directions. The middle school wasn’t close like others had said…nope, it was more than six miles away in a direction that we would have never gone.

We got to the school, and I was impressed with the school staff, the building and also what they had to offer Noah in terms of being in the gifted and talented program. I truly think that he had visions of being in some hot trailer out on the mesa somewhere near a shanty town of some sort. Not true. It was a very nice school.

As I write this, Noah is busy getting ready to go. Today will be an “off day” for him and many other new students who will be sitting in the guidance counselor’s office awaiting their schedule. Noah’s biggest fear was being in classes that don’t challenge him since he is an advanced student, excelling in every class he takes. The guidance counselor was able to relieve those fears when she told him that she would place him in pre-AP courses. I know that he felt better about that.

I’ll miss having him here during the day! He is such a great kid. While many parents celebrate the first day of school because their kids drove them crazy all summer, I’ll be singing a dirge.

*just a little side note…

In the pictures I posted of Noah, you can see all the big ass green tumble weeds. He and my husband have been busy removing all of them. Tumble weeds set seed with their prickly seed getting into everything. As those seeds fall to the ground, we pick them up on the bottom of our shoes and actually end up tracking them into the house! If you’ve never had one of these things stuck in your foot, I can liken it to stepping on a sharp tack! The secret is to remove them before they set seed, and hopefully each year the amount of tumble weeds decrease.

A Shift in My Thought Life

The following entry is from our new blog site “The High Desert Chronicles.”

Our family has dreams of starting a homestead…that much is clear, but where? Where do we settle down? We found some land out in the Parajito Mesa and we just fell in love with it. There’s a catch though. The property is landlocked! When we called the realtor back to tell her we were interested, she told me this:

“You can purchase the land, but you can’t live on it legally.” Huh? “Why?” I asked. She stated that the Parajito Mesa is a part of a land scam from many years ago, and the developer never mapped out the plots of land correctly or put in the necessary roads. Basically all of the Parajito land is private, and in order for us to purchase a plot of land, we would need to create access. But from where? There are no legal easements and no legal street address. We would have to plow a road right through someone’s property to access ours. Obviously that isn’t a great idea, nor is it good for having a decent relationship with our neighbors.

The Parajito Mesa is home to about 400 families. As I did some research on it, what I found was heartbreaking. It made me actually want to move there despite the fact that it is illegal. Would we put our family at risk by doing that? Nope. So I had to think of a different way. If we were to live out there, we wouldn’t be able to get mail, be able give a legal change of address, update information on drivers license or other important documents and my grand daughter wouldn’t be able to get her much needed Medicaid. So why do I want to be out there so bad? For me, it has to do with three things I see…the disenfranchised, social justice and environmental justice. These three things are huge, and as time goes by, dreams can become diminished and finally replaced with despair. Does it have to be that way though? It seems as though they are forgotten and left out there to just exist or die. I’m unsure why the burden in my heart is so heavy for these families, but it is there none the less. I guess my thought is that the people on Parajito Mesa have an opportunity to make their own homesteads if they wanted. I believe that any family that is willing to make their lives better should have access to the tools and knowledge that would make that life an actual reality.

What can we do? How can we help? I believe that if we were to purchase a house with some land near the Parajito Mesa, we could begin to open up our home to those who would seek something more for their families. As we build our homestead in that region, others who are interested could come along side of us, learning the principles of water harvesting, earthworks and permaculture and bring that back to their own land and begin incorporating those techniques and principles. I don’t have any visions of grandeur, just a simple desire to help those who want help.

Most of the families out there are on ten acres of land each. How much food can grow on ten acres? I say that rhetorically, because even an 1/8 of an acre can be intensely gardened to produce thousands of pounds of food per year. They each have way more than an 1/8 of an acre which makes it possible to grow many different kinds of fruit trees, acres to grow grains, agave, and so many other types of fruits and veggies. Is the lack of water the problem? If they are conventional farmers, yes. But I believe if they begin to understand how earthworks and water harvesting principles work, they will be able to actually cultivate their land, build their soil and create something absolutely stunning. They are worth it, don’t you think?

If there are any permaculturalists in the area looking for a worthy cause to donate your time and talent, you can contact me by filling out the form on my Contact page. I would love to hear from you.

Here is a video I found on youtube about the Parajito Mesa:

The Long Recovery Road

I’m starting to feel like my “old self” again instead of just feeling old! Since the end of October and into November 09′ I started to feel really run down. I was forgetting things easier, my mind was clouded and I could only do one thing mentally at a time. Being a multi-tasker online, I found it increasingly difficult to have more than one tab open and I would start to get flustered really easily. My heart would race in anxiety and depression soon set in. This was no ordinary depression where I would feel down on myself…no, this was an all out emotional assault inwardly. I would look in the mirror and see this old and very very bloated woman, “Who are you?” I would say to myself. Things got increasingly worse as I would feel my lungs crackle and holler. The looming fear was that I would get pneumonia again. Having almost lost my life to pneumonia more than once, my husband would lay anxious at night hearing my lungs from his side of the bed. Thoughts of me in intensive care, hooked up to a bi-pap machine and tubes coming out of me caused fear to set in. We only needed to wait a few more weeks until our insurance kicked in and I could get my five year pneumonia shot (I was due!) and onto the proper medication and steriods.  I was holding up ok, dealing with the crackling lungs and wheezing day and night when on Christmas Eve I took a turn for the worse. I could no longer stand up, I was weak and dizzy and my cough was getting worse. I pretty much ruined Christmas for everyone as I laid in bed through most of that following week. I got into urgent care where a one armed doctor refused to do a chest film and just prescribed Advair, Prednisone and Abuterol. My insurance had just kicked in and we were able to fill the prescriptions. I told him that I needed a pneumonia shot and antibiotics since I do know what pneumonia is like, but he wouldn’t prescribe it.

Not getting any better on the steriods, I saw my primary physician and he listened to my lungs. “Yup, you have pneumonia” he said, and he prescribed me the proper antibiotics as well as more Advair and also Singulair. During that time he also ran some blood work on me, and my thyroid came back low.

Since then, the antibiotics have done there job, and the medication I’m on for hypothyroid is really helping to get me back on track. I don’t feel like an old woman any more, and I feel my brain starting to function as it used to. I’m a little more sharp, a little more sassy and I look forward to the day when everything goes back to normal for me. I know recovering from pneumonia takes a while, but so does having a hypothyroid. I’m taking it day by day and moment by moment. The best part of it all is that the depression is totally gone. I beat myself up for a while there wondering why I couldn’t snap out of the funk I was in. I was never the type of person to become depressed or beat myself up emotionally. I’m glad those chains have been broken, and that the little butterfly gland known as my thyroid is starting to get the help it needs!

Bald Beauty of the Day

Happy Holidays

I thought I might amuse you all this holiday season with a few other JibJab creations…ENJOY!

Oh, and one more because I LOVE Weird AL!

Have a very safe and awesome Holiday!

Unprepared and Full of Regret

On Friday December 18th, I needed to take my son to the doctor to get a sports physical. Whenever I have to take Simmi out to the store or anywhere else, that nagging fear of what is lurking on the floor or in some seat cushion is always plaguing me. I’ve learned to live with this fear for well over a year and at times I’ve been criticized or looked at weird when I explain that Simmi’s severe food allergies keeps us from attending some event, playgroup or even the thought of attending preschool in August 2010. Going out of the house is a major anxiety event for me each time I pick Simmi up to put her into the car. Questions always enter my mind “Who sat in this shopping cart before her? What was that kid eating? What was on his or her hands that they may have transferred onto the surface Simone touches?” If I go to a doctor’s appointment for her, on the way I’m wondering about the mother who lovingly brought along a snack for her toddler consisting of Honey Nut Cheerios, cheddar cheese Gold Fish, poptarts or anything else that is convenient and will keep a little one satisfied and happy. It seems so unnecessary to have those things swimming around in my mind, but I can’t help it. I worry about these things constantly, always being on guard for that stray peanut or other product that could harm or even kill Simone.

When we go out there is always a set of eyes on Simmi. Whether it is me, Dom or one of my kids, someone is always watching. We arrived at my son’s appointment and Simmi was running around being her cute self. My son Noah was faithfully keeping an eye on her as I filled out the paperwork for his visit. I was unprepared for the events that transpired shortly before Noah went in to the examining room. You see, I let my guard down. Whenever we enter a store or anywhere unfamiliar, I always scan the place with my eyes looking for that “thing” that could cause Simmi harm or death. I didn’t scan the doctor’s office. We walked into that office, I got the paperwork and just started writing. If it wasn’t for Noah’s loving attention to detail, our situation may be quite different. Neither Noah nor myself noticed that there was a vending machine located in the corner of the waiting room. It was the kind that dispenses candy when you put in a quarter, you turn the lever and grab the candy by the handful. This thing was filled with three different types of candy, one of which was Peanut M&M’s. Simone had wandered over to that machine which had a few M&M’s sitting in the tray just begging to be picked up and tasted! Who was she to argue with the small roundish brightly colored object? She’s never even seen a Peanut M&M before. Noah had turned around for just a second to look my way and when he turned back to watch Simmi, he noticed that she had something brightly colored in her hand AND she was just about to put it in her mouth. He ran across the room as fast as he could and his quick movements caused me to look up to see what was going on. I looked on in horror as he removed the peanut M&M from her hand and threw it in the garbage. At that point I quickly got up and started to walk across the waiting room…but this little toddler of mine was quick! Before I even got to her, she spotted another M&M on the floor and picked that one up too! I was in panic mode. Both times she picked up the candy with her left hand, so I grabbed her and held on to her left hand so she wouldn’t touch any part of her body or put her hand in her mouth. Now the receptionists were staring at us trying to make heads or tails of the events unfolding before their eyes. I rattled off to them all her food allergies and asked for the bathroom so I could wash her hands, but when I got into the bathroom, there was a pump container filled with liquid soap. Still holding her and now also trying to read the ingredients on the back of the soap container, one word stood out in the ingredients “Cocamidopropyl betaine” which comes from Coconut oil. Normally we wouldn’t be concerned with this product since she used to eat quite a bit of coconut oil, but after she had a violent reaction to coconut oil last weekend and because she is now highly allergic to tree nuts, I could not expose her to the soap! All of this was happening so fast that I wonder how I was even able to think properly. I quickly came out of the bathroom and asked Noah to get her wipes out of the diaper bag. I must have used five wipes just on her one hand. Was I over reacting? I had regret racing through my heart, and I was inwardly chastising myself for ever letting down my guard. I wiped off her hands…and mind you, this is all taking place in a matter of three minutes (it felt like an hour!) and all the sudden out comes the welts. She starts scratching her left hand and now she has a bright red rash traveling up her hand and arm. I alert the receptionist that I need Benadryl and I’m kicking myself in the pants now for NOT putting it in her diaper bag the one time we needed it most! Does the receptionist bring me benadryl? NOPE, she brings me cortisone because they don’t have any Benadryl available. I could have gotten mad at her, after all it is a doctor’s office…but I was super angry at myself for not taking the proper precautions in the first place. All I could do was hope that it was just a rash that she would get and stay armed with Epi-pen in hand. The rash traveled up her arm and before the end of ten minutes she was covered from head to toe in a raised red rash. All I could do was look at her like she was a bizarre science experiment. I felt helpless and so unbelievably guilty. We left the doctor’s office, I drove Noah to school and when we got home Simmi ran straight for her room saying “ba ba” “ba ba”. I tried to give her Benadryl but of course she is totally freaking out and screaming if I try to get it into her. It spills all over the place with only a very small amount actually swallowed. She fell asleep in less than five minutes and I sat in the dining room with the monitor turned up as high as it would go just so I could listen to her breathing. Simmi was so exhausted she slept from 11:30am to 4:30pm. I sat with the “shouda, coulda, woulda’s” running through my head.

After she awoke from her long nap, I went in to examine her body and the rash was still there, but so where a few other things that I haven’t seen since she had a severe reaction last year…purple little spots on her chest which happens when she has a severe allergic reaction. She’s OK now, but all that day and into the night Dom and I sat there staring at each other, reminded of just how serious her allergies are. We started going over action plans again, discussing the new things that can’t be brought into the house like Duralogs for the fireplace (they contain nut shells), or real pine wood because of her allergy to pine. It feels like our world is closing in around us as we must continue to do things that will safe guard her well being. Our home has now become completely food allergen free as well. We do not bring anything into the house that contains peanuts (that was always a rule), wheat, milk, soy, eggs or tree nuts. At her allergy appointment when we got the results back from her RAST, we realized that there is a good possibility that even cooking foods that contain the things she is allergic to, could be breathed in by her and caused her levels to increase to an alarmingly high level.

With her speech and vision problems complicating things more, we are hopeful that in time she will be able to communicate with us and let us know when she is starting to feel some sort of reaction coming. All I can do at this point is learn from that experience and always stay on guard and alert without making her feel like the world is a dangerous and unsafe place to live in.

Here are some photos I took of her after her first rash from our dog. Three days after those photos were taken, the outer skin on her nipples started to fall off:

What Does it Take to Make Things Better

What lengths would you go to make your child’s life more comfortable? How about a child with a wide range of problems? Not just one thing like a food allergy or multiple food allergies, but walking problems, developmental issues, their speech is missing or even the ability to tell us simply what she needs, and now on top of that discovering vision problems? How far do you adjust your life and home to help that child learn and function as normal as possible?

Sometimes I am so completely drained I feel empty inside. Dom and I are worked to the bone trying to trouble shoot and make things more suitable here, but it just seems like an endless cycle of “lets add one more problem to the laundry list of issues we already deal with concerning Simmi.” Just as we’re adjusting and finding creative ways around the food issue, and finally getting the floors down in the house, up pops a problem that may be a link to some of the developmental problems she has been having. We’re detectives trying to find the missing puzzle piece of Simmi’s developmental delays. Knowing that she already has this long list of problems, we are wondering if vision problems are contributing to more of her issues. Is it possible?

She has low muscle tone and has had this for a long time. The physical therapist attributes her walking problems with having low muscle tone and Simmi is trying to compensate for this problem by developing a new gait. She also feels that it is the contributing factor of not wanting to get up and walk around or run. But how about when she goes outside and refuses to walk? Is that low muscle tone or is it her vision? These are the types of questions swimming around in our brains constantly. If we go out during the day and it’s very sunny out, she becomes agitated, upset and sometimes gets scared or wants to be held. Why? We know from experience that she does better in low light settings and she is wonderful in the evening hours…calm, peaceful and amiable. During the day, its a different story! As long as the house isn’t flooded with lots of light she does pretty well, but she is often irritable and at times even irrational. She doesn’t really nap anymore during the day which is making things even more hectic. She gets up during the night more than ever as well. So, if bright sunlight is somehow blocking her ability to see, how do we remedy the situation? Blinds and curtains work wonders, and controlling the light that is in the house seems to help as well. But is that enough? What if the light and her vision is preventing her from learning? What if her central vision doesn’t work properly and that’s why she tends to look out of the corner of her eyes? She cocks her head in weird positions, not all the time but enough to see that there is something more to all of this. I have been doing some research here and there when we have a moment, to find out more about Cortical Visual Impairment (CVI) and one thing that I have found is that it is possible for children to regain more of their sight with the proper therapies. How much therapy does this child need? Yes, we can have a therapist here every day of the week for different things, but the therapy should continue even after the therapist leaves. This is where we take over. I need to take the lead with all of this, because the therapists in their field of work come for one hour per week each. Discovering this new problem with her vision helps us to focus in on techniques and approaches that will be more suitable to her therapy. At first glance, when a therapist is here, we might think that she has a VERY limited attention span. Is it her attention that is the problem, or is it the fact that she may not see very clearly what is being presented to her? She responds much better to bright bold colors, moving objects and shiny things. These are the types of things that will need to be incorporated into her therapy and into everyday life. But what does that mean for us as a family? There is no way I’m putting a disco ball up in the dining room, or streamers all over the house that glimmer and shine! There needs to be a “tasteful” way of incorporating shiny objects and special lighting into our home and the house look NORMAL! I’m learning about the properties and principles of multi-sensory therapy and taking those principles and looking for a functional design for our house.

In Simmi’s room we purchased some very cheap shiny stars to hang from her ceiling. What we discovered is that if objects and things seem effortless for her to focus on, she becomes less fatigued. The hanging stars in her room provide movement when there is air flow in the room through the central air/heating system, and when we carry her into her room to put her to bed or take her out of bed, it provides an opportunity to develop her eye-hand coordination because she always wants to touch them or hit them to make them swing or move. The more effortless it is for her to focus and see, (in my opinion) the more it strengthens her vision. It’s such a simple thing and yet she consistently is interested in reaching out for them and with that beautiful wonderment that children seem to have, says “WOW!” every time she enters the room…without fail.

Having a child with undiagnosed problems can be difficult. But it doesn’t have to be. We know our children better than any doctor or therapist, understanding what works and what doesn’t, and its important that we realize that their development is in our hands….not the doctor or therapists. A diagnosis would be nice for her, but what then? She doesn’t have any major organs affected that need to be assisted with the use of medication, so all I can do is trouble shoot and find the right combinations of things that can work for her. Getting to that point is the hard part. It means constantly watching and evaluating her. Its almost a clinical approach to parenting, yet maintaining the close relationship and trust that it takes to move her to the next level in her development. It means never giving up hope and always striving for the very best we can offer her.

We noticed that she looks uninterested in learning things, but is she uninterested or trying to get a better glimpse of what we are showing her by turning her head to the side? She seems to look away, but is she looking away or looking peripherally? She picks up things without looking at them, or is she just looking out of the corner of her eyes this whole time and we never noticed? Yesterday as we were walking out of my room, she walked full force into the molding on our door. She didn’t fall into the door jam, she just walked, thinking that she had clearance. She seems to have a high tolerance for pain, because she didn’t cry afterwards…she just sat on the floor and started to crawl instead. The worst part of all this is that it happens when you least expect it. Not realizing or even noticing these issues in the past makes me wonder if the reason she gets so confused is because she actually can’t see something. She’ll put her hand out and grunt for something, we’ll take her over to that object so she can have it and she will say no and get upset. Is she confused about what she wants? It seems like she can’t make up her mind! It can be very frustrating for us, but I now wonder if her reaching out and grunting is her way of saying “I can’t see this or that.”

We will be creating a Snoezelen room for her in her bedroom. Here is a picture of what we are aiming for when designing her room:

While Snoezelen rooms and equipment are extremely expensive, we can create a room like this with a little creativity. Did you notice the disco ball? Remember earlier I mentioned NOT having a disco ball in our dining room? Simmi is very attracted to arrays of light, prisms, movement, smell and sound, so to incorporate these types of things into the rest of our home (without making every room look like a Snoezelen room) we have decided to go with crystal chandeliers, mirrors and things that draw her eye to where we want her to go at different times during the day. It becomes a way of helping her focus and concentrate effortlessly.

Our bedroom, the dining room and living room are other areas that she is in often. I do deep pressure massages on her after her bath time and that happens on our bed. We have designed our room (although it is in the planning stages right now) to include a crystal chandelier over the bed, lots of mirrors, textures and patterns throughout. How do you have crystal prisms on nightstands and dressers, crystal lamps and vases, flowers and pictures WITHOUT a toddler grabbing them and braking them, potentially hurting themselves? In my design world, I will be mounting these objects to old furniture. The textiles I’ll be using are cut work velvets, silks and satins and furs, providing an endless source of things to touch and experience. Mounting objects to the furniture allows for her to touch the object without possible damage and it becomes the focal point that draws her eye to what ever object I want her to touch or experience in that moment. The design I came up with for our bedroom is not my style at all! Dom and I had planned for a very streamlined more modern and clean look, very minimalistic. That plan went right out the door one morning after discovering that Simmi has vision problems. I realized I was going to have to go for an elegant shabby chic. I put my foot down though when it comes to lots of flower patterns! Not just that, but keeping things simple in terms of patterns is important for Simmi. I’m being stretched and pulled out of the comfort of my design world and into something that in the end will look absolutely beautiful, but totally not my style. The picture on the right is similar to a look I’ll be aiming for. Much more texture, but the intention is to include shiny objects coupled with lots of white. She does well with white in low lighting because it doesn’t fatigue her…everything kind of blends allowing for a more relaxed experience. Our room already has mirrored bi-fold closet doors, which at first we were going to get rid of, but now see the value of having them. Playing with the mirrored concept and use of crystal prisms can actually bring a large amount of sophistication to our room and at the same time be a constant source of therapy for Simmi.

So what can I say? How far do I go to make her life and ours more pleasant and relaxed? Is it worth the effort? Absolutely! I’m tired of waiting for that next opportunity with a therapist, or needing to bring out the objects for her to utilize. I want her to be strengthened each day effortlessly so we can get to the real business at hand…being normal.

How much does it cost to do all this stuff? A lot and nothing at all. If I were to purchase everything new, there would be no way I could afford it all. We have already collected a few items for free off of Freecycle, and I’m always amazed at what some people just get rid of. Usually it doesn’t fit their decor anymore, or its something that was passed down that has been just sitting in their garage. I can actually make the mirrored night stands if I want that look, and as far as bedding goes, I plan on creating my own with Dupioni silks, taffeta, velvets and other textiles. Where will I get these types of fabrics? On sale at Joann fabric or if someone happens to be giving away an old wedding gown. I’ve been on the look out for lots of wedding gowns. When no money is available, everything takes time to acquire. Some times things come in quickly, and at other times it seems like eternity waiting for that special little object. We already have an antique chandelier that someone was getting rid of, and I’m in the process of restoring it to its former beauty so we can hang it as soon as our bedroom is painted.

For anyone willing to go the extra million miles to make their child’s life better (and ours too), I highly recommend trouble shooting how your child responds to their environment. Is the child agitated during the day or evening? Does it make life almost unbearable because you can’t figure out what the hell is wrong with them and you are pulling your hair out because you’ve tried everything? Experiment! Try turning the lights down, or making it brighter. See if background noise like the refrigerator or washing machine aggravates the situation. There is background noise that we become used to but to a child with sensory problems, that sound may drive them crazy and they don’t even realize it. How about if more than one person is talking in a room? Does it drive them bananas and make them lash out? If the light or even background noise is too much for Simmi she begins to take a swipe at us. She will hit and kick, start pulling at her hair and maybe even just start screaming. The hair pulling we have been dealing with for a long time, and we knew it seemed to come in cycles, but now we notice that light and sound have something to do with her hair pulling. Its amazing when we’re willing to watch intently, we see a host of very fixable problems that can help her be more at ease. Being at ease means being more receptive to learning. I’m even considering wearing bright red lipstick during the day if it will help her focus on my mouth when I speak. Children learn to form words by watching others speak, but what happens if they don’t see your mouth clearly or how you form your words? How do they learn? I’m not a lipstick girl, but I’m willing to try it!

It has been quite the adventure, taxing for sure, but well worth the effort. Yesterday we had an Occupational therapist and Simmi’s service coordinator here, and I was thrilled that this particular OT will be helping in creating a plan for Simmi’s sensory issues. At one point during the session, as we were discussing Simmi’s vision, Simmi was able to comprehend what we were talking about and actually put her two cents in concerning her vision. I got a little teary eyed when I saw Simmi standing in front of her service coordinator and while covering one eye, kept looking at him and saying “see, see” and pointing. Then she would cover the other eye and say “see, see”. She understood what we were talking about and was babbling on about something concerning seeing. It was clear as crystal that she was explaining something, and she was so happy that we were catching on. At least that is how I interpret yesterday’s events. The language barrier is still there, but I feel she had her own personal break through yesterday. She understands far more than she can indicate and I am excited to give her the proper tools to make her world more vibrant, clear and comfortable.

My Shoshannah Turned 14 Today!

Ahhh, once again its time to honor another child-o-mine. On the left is my soft, sweet smelling little girl flippin the bird in the hospital. Today is all about Shoshanna Danae! We all call her Shoshie for short, but from the time she was three years old, she decided that her name wasn’t Shoshannah…instead she called herself Gerty. I’m not sure where she heard the name, and the only Gerty I can recall is Drew Barrymore’s character in E.T. Shoshie never saw E.T. when she was little so we just don’t know how she came to be so fond of that name.

The first time I heard her call herself Gerty was in a church. I think we were going in to vote or something like that, and a bunch of very old ladies were sitting there asking Shoshie her name. Now, Shoshie was a thumb sucker, hard core, and the only time she took that thing out of her mouth was to say a few words and back in went the thumb. So the ladies say “Awww, what’s your name?” Shoshie takes her thumb out of her mouth for a second and says “Gerty,” and it stuck. She just loved that name. When she was around 10 years old, she got a turtle from her dad and guess what she named the turtle? Yup…Gerty.

Shoshie was my little shadow. She was extremely easy to care for, adorable, compact and we could take her anywhere with no fuss. She was content with her blankie and her thumb in her mouth and that was all she wanted or needed. When she was an infant we could hand her off to anyone and she was happy as a clam to be held and cuddled. She would just coo and ahh and constantly stick her little tongue out, but by the time she was about 9 months old her social and happy disposition with others was quickly replaced by terror. It seemed as if in a single moment she went from “happy-go-lucky” to horrified if anyone so much as looked at her. She would hold onto us tight and turn her head so she couldn’t look into other peoples’ eyes. Once she warmed up though, she was fine. From that point on, being social was completely on her own terms. As I said just a short while earlier, she was my little shadow. No matter where I would go in the house, I could always count on Shoshie to be right behind me or at my side. She wouldn’t say a peep…she’d just follow me around and silently try to assist me in whatever I was doing. I could take her shopping with me, talk on the phone, take care of anything I was working on and there she was just happy to sit next to me. Of course it wasn’t every second of every day, because she had her “partner in crime” Noah to do things with. I remember this one time I had to go to Costco for some things, Shoshie couldn’t have been more than three years old at the time, and while we were standing at the checkout line, a man in the next row over taps me on the shoulder and says “I think you should turn around.” I turned around and there was Shoshie with all her clothes off, just standing there with her thumb in her mouth. It was the cutest thing ever! But that is how she was and still is. (well, not the stripping down part) She just has a strong and silent way about her, and when she has made up her mind to do something after much thought, she just does it.

Shoshie is extremely kind, loving and caring. She is a musician and plays the cello, can fool around on the guitar, is great with percussion and loves to sing. She’s a girlie-girl too. Loyalty comes to mind when I think of her. I’m very proud of who she is becoming. This past spring while she was away to visit her dad, she made the decision  to live with him and his fiance. I have always felt that my children should be able to choose where they would like to live, but even after conveying that message to them, she still had a hard time telling me that she wanted to live with them. Regardless of my own personal feelings about her being so far away from me, I want her to know that I respect her and admire her for stepping out and choosing something for herself. The most difficult thing about not having her here anymore is that I will miss her presence. She has such a uniquely gorgeous soul. I loved our talks and asking strange and obscure questions just to get her to think. I love when she would ask me questions about “girl things” and how fascinated she was by “the way things are.” Of course I’m being cryptic, but what did you expect? I can tell the whole world what it is that Shoshie and I talk about. She is a beautiful jewel…a treasure!

My Shoshie Girl,

I can’t believe you are 14 years old now! I remember when you and Noah would sit in the back of the mini van and you would look at Noah and say “PIMP!” and he would just kackle and laugh. You would put your thumb in your mouth, pull it out and say “PIMP!” and he would laugh even harder. I don’t know where you heard that word, but you both thought it was the funniest thing on earth. I remember when we would ask you “When are you going to stop sucking your thumb?” and you would say “On Tuesday” in that sweet soft voice of yours. I have so many beautiful memories of you my girl and it has been a blessing to be your mother. Thank you for being such a great daughter, filled with love, joy, friendship, life and optimism. You are truly beautiful through and through. I love you Shoshie girl…Happy Birthday!

Seven Months in the Land of Enchantment

We’ve been living in New Mexico for seven months now…so what do I think so far? Well, for anyone with an interest in moving to New Mexico, I say go for it! I really do love it here with one, little, tiny thing that I absolutely HATE (Noah and Shoshie if you are reading this, close the freaking page)…SCORPIONS! What did I expect? Rainbows and butterflies? Holy shit! Guess what, we’re coming upon scorpion season and yesterday while Dom was in our bathroom, he looked on the WALL and there was a scorpion. He swiped it off the wall and killed it. What’s the name of this particular scorpion dwelling on my bathroom wall? The Bark Scorpion. The picture on the left is what they look like.

Here in New Mexico you can buy one of those handy little black light flash lights. It seems that when you put a black light on them in the dark, they glow. Cool right? Don’t get me wrong, I am very curious about scorpions and think they are really interesting creatures, BUT NOT IN MY HOUSE! I’m paranoid about what’s lurking under the bed now, and also worried about Simmi in her room. This weekend we have to do some major scorpion proofing of our house. I was looking around and realized that there are lots of areas they can come in from. In retrospect, now I’m wondering if Simmi actually may have gotten a scorpion bite. She has had a lot of trouble walking and in the last few weeks it has gotten worse. She does have a small round red mark on the sole of her right foot and lately she has been screaming every time we put her into the crib. When I say scream, I mean SCREAM! She screams like she is being murdered. That started on Monday. Because we have concrete floors that are nasty and unfinished, we always put shoes on her. There would be no way for her to get a puncture mark in the bottom of her foot. I just noticed the mark yesterday, but could it be likely that she got bit? She doesn’t seem to have any of the symptoms of a bite, like swelling, nausea (even though she really isn’t eating much) excess saliva or foaming at the mouth. If you’re interested in reading about what she is going through (it has totally drained me) you can read about it on LovingSimone.com. Anyway, I don’t *think* she got bit, but I do wonder now if it’s possible. They say it causes extreme pain and numbness, but in children it can be very serious. All last week she had a fever of 102.3 but no symptoms of a cold. When I took her to the doctor he said it was probably a virus. It could have been that, but with a viral or bacterial infection, other symptoms are bound to show up. She never developed any other symptoms.

It has been a very trying two-three weeks. My head is spinning and I barely have a few moments to myself. My computer time has been cut down to a few moments here and there and mostly at night, but by 8:30pm I am totally exhausted. My writing has suffered, and I feel so disconnected from my online world. The simple pleasures that seem to help me through the day is the weather here. Every morning when I wake up, I hear the sound of hundreds of birds singing. The air is cool and pleasant and there is usually a beautiful breeze that blows through the house. The light here is amazing. We are entering monsoon season due to hurricane season in Mexico. Lately it is either raining every day or every other day. The humidity is also increased during this time of year. It stays relatively cool during the morning to mid afternoon and then it gets very hot until about 7:00pm. After that, it cools back down and we have very pleasant cool evenings. Being outside in the evening is a joy. Seeing the gorgeous colors painted across the sky in hues of purple and pink just make me take a deep breath, clear my head and enjoy the moment. One thing that is a nuisance (beyond scorpions) is the amount of dirt that blows in the windows. Where we live, there always seems to be two times a day when the wind picks up and gusts and sometimes I forget to close all the windows during those times. Oh-My-God, this one time we left the windows open and every room had light covering of dirt on it. Everything was covered with gritty sand; the table, chairs, floor, cabinets, clothing, beds…everything. The dirt is very light also, and when sweeping it up, most of it kicks up into the air only to settle once again on the floor or other house hold object. We have to not just sweep, but we have to use a shop vac depending on the amount of dirt blown in. It really is that bad! It’s the price we pay for living in the desert and NOT having rocks, wood chips or even grass covering the front and back yard. Most of the dirt that comes in is directly from our own yard, so we just deal with needing to clean up all the dirt. Landscaping is a very low priority on our list right now because there are so many needs on the interior.

I am officially a raw foodist again. I went back to eating raw foods on June 17th and it has been wonderful. We are almost done with my raw kitchen and just need a few more items to make it complete. Here is a few pictures of what it looked like before and after:

I also just created a raw website if anyone would like to take a look. I had some time on Sunday to create it, while Dom watched Simmi all day. That was a nice break! Anyway, here’s the site:

www.RavishinglyRaw.com

Bald Beauty of the Day

My Hannah Bear Turns 19!

Has it truly been 19 years since Hannah was born? Damn, I am old! But I remember the day of her birth like it happened just moments ago. Every moment of her entry into this world is etched in my mind forever. She was born at a very dark and difficult time in my life. I won’t go into the details, but I will tell you that she was meant to be here. Difficult and trying circumstances can bring forth some of the most marvelous miracles one can ever witness. When my days were the darkest and I walked around in shock from a particularly traumatic event, there she was kicking inside of me, reminding me each day that life is so precious. On June 24th 1990 I was taken into the hospital because she was over due. I was huge and had no idea just how big this child would be as she made her entrance into my world. With my father at my side, well, kind of…he was hiding under the blanket in a corner of the room, saying “Oh God!” every time I had a contraction, I pushed and pushed, and pushed some more. Something happened though…she got stuck. She was such a big baby that her shoulder got stuck behind my pelvic bone. I was rushed into the delivery room, where the doctor proceeded to pull his gloves as far up his forearms as possible and he told me that he would have to put his arm up there and turn her so that she could come out. Huh? Ok, I know the baby is large, but so was this doctor’s hands and arms! Geez, I could not believe he did that. After she came out, the doctor and nurses looked at each other and started to laugh. They were amazed that this child came out of me vaginally. Hannah weighed 10 lbs. at birth and she was 23 inches long. At first they didn’t know if she was a girl or boy, because she had three large rolls of soft beautiful fat that blocked them from seeing that she was a girl. Because she stayed in the birth canal for well over a half hour, her head and face were very distorted. She reminded me of Jabba the Hutt. Her eyes were so swollen that it took a day before she could open them. For anyone that has given birth to a big baby, you know also that the calorie intake for these little baby monsters is HUGE! Hannah nursed so much, that by the end of the second day I had LOTS of milk. Instead of losing weight in the hospital, she actually gained 2 1/2 pounds. I had saved all the clothing I had from when Gina was born, but the outfit that I had to take her home in was too small. Hannah was the size of a three month old when we left the hospital. I took her home in a hospital tee-shirt, diaper and hospital blankets.

Her skin was the softest skin I had ever felt. It was supple and mushy and she smelled so good. As the weeks went by, her face formed correctly and what emerged was a most beautiful baby. Deep brown eyes, soft dark skin and an appetite that never quit. I nursed her all the time. She wasn’t happy unless some part of my skin was in her mouth. A pinky knuckle, my chin or a breast. She wouldn’t allow anyone to hold her and would scream unless I was holding her, nursing her or she was in the swing. Hannah crawled early and was walking by the time she was nine months old. Until she was nine months old, she barely ever smiled or laughed. I felt like the Dairy Queen as the months went by until finally the nursing was so out of hand that I had to wean her. From the time I weaned her, she started to smile, laugh and was great around other people. It was like I had a completely different child. Something was different about her though…she didn’t speak. Of course Gina, her big sister was there to “express” what Hannah may have wanted. Gina would bring Hannah into the kitchen holding her hand and say “Hannah wants some juice”, and I would ask Hannah “Do you want juice?” She would nod “Yes.” I knew she could understand everything we were saying and all her developmental milestones were completely normal, except for speech. It didn’t concern me because in my heart I knew it would only be a matter of time before she would speak. She didn’t disappoint either. At around 2 1/2 years old, while we were driving some where in the car, we heard this small, raspy voice in the backseat. I turned my head to see where it was coming from, and there in her car seat was Hannah speaking. She wasn’t just speaking, she was quoting bible verses. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart” was what this child was saying. When she saw that I was witnessing this, she shut up. She knew how to speak…she just chose to be silent all that time.

Hannah and Gina did everything together. When Gina was four years old and Hannah was two, we lived in an apartment on the third floor above a store. I went down stairs to get the mail, and Gina took it upon herself to “get help” because they were left alone. Gina was wearing a skirt with no shirt on, Hannah was wearing a shirt with no underwear or pants on…they BOTH put MY shoes on, Gina took Hannah by the hand and brought her down the back stairs of the fire escape to my neighbor’s house, one flight down. Gina knocked on the door and my neighbor answered. Gina is holding Hannah’s hand and Gina proceeds to tell the neighbor that they were left all alone and she doesn’t know where her mommy is. The neighbor heard me walking back up the stairs and opens the door. She says, “You have to see this, can you come in?” I said “Sure.” I walk into her kitchen, and there standing before me are my two little girls, each half dressed and wearing my shoes. I busted out laughing and realized at that moment that Hannah would follow Gina anywhere.

Hannah loved climbing into my bed while I was sleeping and then she would fall back to sleep. While her sister was up running around making things or getting into stuff she shouldn’t, Hannah was more content crawling under the covers with me and curling up there. Often I would be awoken by her when she was four years old when I would hear this soft, raspy voice say “Good morning mommy, good morning.” She was just this pure sweetness that I wanted to eat up. You couldn’t help but fall in love with Hannah. She had a knack for making grown men cry too. On many occasions, I could catch different men that we knew, tear up as they looked into her eyes. She had a soft quality about her that just made everyone melt.

Hannah loved to create and imagine. I used to have a craft room in my basement where we lived in Michigan, and that child would just rummage through all my craft supplies and material so she could make something. I’d see her walking down the sidewalk with the stroller and inside it was our dog…all dressed up in something she made.

Hannah has always been and always will be a tender soul. Beautiful to the core, she exudes love, compassion, joy, creativity and a thirst for life. She is a musician…self taught. This girl can sing too. We would hear her practicing in her room over and over, but through a door. One night she invited us to come to hear her play. We were all blown away. True to the spirit of a hard core introvert, Hannah shines when she performs. Writing her own songs and melodies, she captivates her audience with rich, soulful, gut-wrenching lyrics. Sometimes dark, sometimes melancholy, but always pure and true to who she is and what she is feeling in that moment. Having her in my life is miracle each and everyday.

I miss her. Plain and simple. She lives on the east coast, and HOPEFULLY (hint, hint, Hannah) she will make plans to move out here too. She has a life she loves and a boyfriend that treats her well…but she doesn’t have her Mama out there. It’s been almost six months since I last saw her and I think it’s hard on us all. We were together last in December and we took some pretty cool pictures on my computer…here is a slide of us all goofing off. Of course Noah will kill me for showing this because his hair was all messed up. Heehee. Hannah hounded me for days to take these pictures, so I thought I would share it all with you:

My Father, My Hero

This Father’s Day I wanted to celebrate my dad by sharing some of him with all of you. My father has always been an extraordinary man with a passion for his family. My sister and I lived with my mother until I was nine and my sister was seven. My dad wanted to make a life for us with my mother, but for reasons I’d rather not say, they were divorced when I was two years old. His dream was always to be near us, and it broke his heart that he lived on the east coast and my sister and I lived on the west coast. Back then custody was always awarded to the mother, leaving my father with very few options. He would faithfully send us gifts and money to help care for us, and being the type of person that my mother was, that money was always spent on drugs and the gifts were brought to the store unopened for money. My father would come out to see my sister and I every year in the summer and take me to Disney Land, Knox Berry Farms, the Zoo, Universal Studios, the movies and lots of other places. By the time I was six years old, I wanted to live with my dad in NJ and my mother let me go there for a visit. This is how messed up my mother was…she brought me to the airport when I was six years old, took me to one of the coffee shops there and gave me some money. She told me which door I was supposed to go through to get on the plane and left me there.  Can you imagine a mother doing such a thing? She told the cashier what time my flight was at and to remind me when I was supposed to get on the plane. I boarded what seemed like a HUGE plane, and as I recall that time in my life, I remember how much tolerance the people had for me. I ran up and down the isle of that plane for most of the flight, skipping and singing. After arriving safely and NOT being kidnapped by some weirdo, I stayed with my dad for a while. I don’t remember how long it was, but I knew that I wanted to live with him for good. He would make up crazy songs to sing to me at night as he played guitar or show off his mad flute skills. I got to eat real food, go places and I felt very secure being with him. My life in California was a nightmare. I had a step-father who beat my mother and me regularly, and being out of that environment made me feel like there was hope for not living in fear. I was returned home and it would be another three years until my father found a way to take my sister and I away from that life. When I was nine, he made the decision to take my sister and I. Calling my mother he said he wanted them for a little vacation (in February) but once we got here, he told us we were staying and not going back. He built a case for keeping us out there and won on the basis that my mother was unfit.

By taking us away from that life in California he became our hero. He gave my sister and I a stable life, food, clothing, a nice place to live and we actually went to school. He not only was a musician, but also an artist. He taught me how to draw and he would enter my work into contests. He loved putting his work into art shows and would enter my work into the junior division. His life long commitment to my sister and I continues to this day. He started writing a number of years ago and has published two books, with a third book going into print as well as being available as an e-book. I created a website for him to be able to sell his books. So what are his books about? Hmm…you have to go to his website to read about them! Just kidding, I’ll give you the synopsis of each of his books and if it gets you a little curious, head over to his site and get a book (or two) downloaded:

Synopsis: Sixteenth Century Nicholas Kristo is commissioned to show the spirit of selfless giving to a world immersed in political, theological and societal corruption. After being led to a gold mine by a messenger of God, Nicholas and best friend Ben set off to build a mountaintop Mission. There they’d use their great fortune to help the disabled of the world, creating prosthesis, wheelchairs and many other useful gifts that would impact the needy in their worldly struggles. No reindeer and elves as helpers in this story, rather Nicholas employs the unlovely, the unwanted and misfits to man his workshops.
When Ben’s family is unjustly accused of a crime by corrupt soldiers intent on seizing their land, Nicholas gives them refuge in the newly constructed Mission. While in pursuit of the family, Captain Andre Ficci and his wicked brother, Manuel, discover the fortune, using any means necessary to locate and seize the gold. The story reads like a novel-length fable.

(Click the book cover to read a sample picture)

Synopsis: When Franciscan Monk, Peto Cardinelli visits his twin brother, Paulo, in prison for stealing church relics he’d sold to feed the poor, he unexpectedly dies. Paulo seizes the moment to escape jail and switches clothes, determined to carry on his  brother’s commission to escort deviant Archbishop Morlan Fadesti to Rome for his ordination as Cardinal.

After Paulo discovers the Archbishop is a pedophile, he secretly employs his actor friends to pose as Vatican officials and join him in an effort to stop the corrupt priest on the road to Rome. When the players are all in place, Paulo conspires with them to deceive the Archbishop into paying for his own imprisonment.

Although stopping a pedophile priest is serious business, Paulo’s extraordinary sense of humor, charm and wit fully carries the story weightlessly with smiles to the end. As Paulo feigns stupidity, and continually baits the Archbishop into doing the right things for the wrong reasons, the reader will discover the true genius of ‘The Crooked Stick’. (Click the book cover to read a sample chapter)

Synopsis

Forty-five-year old Christian artist, Arturo Cruz, is sent by archangel Nathaniel to purge the church of corrupt ministers wherever he finds them. Able to communicate with Nathaniel telepathically, Arturo teams up with love interest, Detective Sergeant Juliann Assanti. Together they set out on an international investigation neither of them are the slightest bit prepared for.

After exposing several local, corrupt ministers, Juliann reveals her burning desire to find her father’s murderer. When Arturo volunteers to help, it’s not long before the two find themselves probing an international drug ring, whose headquarters are located on board the famous mission ship, Christendom. Its leader; a psychotic minister bent on revenge against God and His ‘children’, eager to kill them by any means necessary.

(Click the book cover to read a sample chapter)

Nicholas Kristo and The Crooked Stick are both available for sale at my dad’s website. I haven’t written on my blog in a month (I know, bad girl) but a lot has been going on. Needless to say, we are really financially strapped and unfortunately I have no gift to give my dad this Father’s Day. What I would like to give him as a gift would be for EVERYONE reading this entry, to go over to his site, www.KoestlersNovels.com and purchase a copy of his books. Nicholas Kristo is available in print for $20.00 plus shipping and handling or on E-Book for $5.00. The Crooked Stick is available in print for $11.50 plus shipping and handling or on E-Book for $5.00 as well. Chasing Elmer Gantry is currently being formatted for both print and E-Book. To reserve your copy of Chasing Elmer Gantry, simply click here and you’ll be taken to his Contact Page where you can leave him a message. On an interesting note, “The Crooked Stick” was read by a screen writer of a prominent film production company (I can’t say which one…sorry) to be made into a movie. How cool is that?

Help me honor my dad this Father’s Day and buy one or both of his books. It would mean the world to me and would thrill him to no end. It is such a unique gift. Do it out of curiosity…to have a look into the mind and imagination of the one who helped bring me into this world.

Happy Father’s Day Dad, I love you!

Bald Beauty of the Day…My Dad!

My Boo Boo Kitty Turns Twenty One Tomorrow!

On May 23rd, my oldest child turns 21 years old. Am I really that old? Geez! It seems like yesterday that she was just born! Gina, who I affectionately call my ‘boo boo kitty’ is my first born child, as well as Simone’s mother.

This girl always gave me a run for my money. Mischievous from birth, she made curiosity her main goal in life! Let me give you a few little stories about my Boo-Boo Kitty…

By the time Gina was a year old, she could speak fluently and it was only a few months after she was speaking in sentences that she began to be able to read, recite the alphabet, spell words forwards and backwards and ask lots of questions. She was potty trained before she was two and used to love to show off her cute little panties. One day, we had to go to court, so I got her all dressed up in her cute little dress, shoes and socks and of course her bright colored undies. I made sure she was fully dressed before we left and jumped in a cab, rushing off to the court house. We show up and all is silent during roll call. She was very well behaved with a weird grin on her face. What happened next mortified me and to this day makes me laugh. The child stood up on the bench we were sitting on, turned around to everyone in the court room, lifted up her cute little dress and proclaimed “Look!!!!! I have no panties on!” Oh-My-God! Her absolute innocence made it very difficult to ever be mad at her for some of the stunts that she would pull.

By the time she was three, my daughter Hannah was a year old. Gina loved nail polish, scissors, and really anything that could make a mess and create something interesting. Anytime something mischievous would happen, for whatever reason, she liked getting up really early to do it. Of course that meant that I was sleeping. One very early morning, Gina went searching through the house for my red nail polish. She found it hidden way up high in a cabinet. She climbed up, got the red nail polish, brought it into Hannah, who was in her crib, and proceeded to paint her red. She must have tipped the bottle over too in the process, because there were drips of red nail polish all over the carpet. After finishing her living master piece, she came into my room and tapped me on the back. I was sleeping, and I hear this little voice softly saying, “Mommy, Mommy, Hannah’s bleeding. Hannah’s bleeding Mommy. Hannah’s bleeding.” I woke up, jumped out of bed and rushed into Hannah’s room. There was my little sweet girl with her legs hanging out of the crib. She was just sitting there like some sort of bloody prisoner. She wasn’t crying, and because I was still half asleep, I didn’t smell the strong nail polish odor that emanated from the room. I started to examine Hannah to try to figure out where she was bleeding from. It looked like a blood bath in her crib. Her white crib was smeared with red polish, her legs and arms and part of her face as well. Her sheets had drips of red. At this point I was totally awake, and there was Gina standing at my side watching me examine Hannah. Gina didn’t say a word. She just stood there grinning at her work. Finally, I smelled the strong odor of nail polish and realized it was just polish and no blood was spilled. I couldn’t be angry with this child, although it was a little less innocent! She actually told me that Hannah was bleeding. Hmm? Should I have disciplined her for that? I didn’t.

Not too long after the nail polish incident, she found the scissors and decided to give her self a hair cut. We had to get it almost completely cut off, and from that point on, Gina would only wear dresses. She thought she looked like a boy.

She found all my baking supplies and one morning, decided to climb up to the top cabinet and get it all down. Flour, sugar, cinnamon, all my spices, chocolate chips, coconut shreds, walnuts and salt…Of course this was all before the break of dawn. Gina took all the ingredients, and on her brown rug in the play room, moved all the toys to make room for the giant cookie she was going to make me for breakfast. When she finished making her masterpiece cookie, she proudly woke me up and told me that she made me something. I got up out of bed, and she took me by the hand into the playroom. She puts both hands out and says, “Look, I made you a biiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggg cookie!!!!!!!!!!!” She was so proud of the work she had done. As a matter of fact, it must have taken her HOURS to make it. It did look like a giant round cookie. I just smiled and teared up to look at that sweet face. How many parents get a giant cookie for breakfast, made by their precocious three year old?

Gina was always full of energy, smiling and loving to get the best of us. She is talented in art (although she doesn’t think so) great with the flute, loves fashion and is very social. When she was nineteen years old she gave birth to Simmi. Being young and not ready to have a child, she faced one of the most difficult decisions ever. As a family, we wanted her to make the best decision for her life, and she chose to let us raise Simone. Currently, she has been missing me a lot and has been considering moving to New Mexico. In the near future I hope that will come to fruition. I miss her terribly, and would love to have her closer to me.

Happy Birthday Boo-Boo Kitty…I love you dearly!

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