Barbie Vs. Meth

Another Barbie drama…

Ok, we’ve heard it all before – Barbie is bad for body image.  For anyone, but especially for girls.  I played with Barbie when I was a kid.  I loved taking her and her friends and Ken outside in her camper and creating worlds of stories that entertained me AND my brother and sister for hours.  Yes, my brother played Barbie with us.  There was no way he couldn’t – we were thrown out of the house together every day and there was no one else to play with except his sisters.  He was cool about it.  We would play with them in the backyard, in the woods, in the flower beds.  Barbie had great outdoor adventures, and when it rained we hung out in our bedroom and played there – turning bookcases into mansions.  We nailed blocks of wood together and covered it with old carpeting to make custom furniture for her.  Old boxes, Breyer horses, milk cartons, etc.  We reused and recycled before it was the thing to do.  Even the pets came into play.  Cats and dogs were monsters we played around. 

One thing Barbie did not do was throw up or binge eat.  We did get her pregnant a few times, by Darth Vader – not Ken, but she was just a regular girl with some good friends.  Barbie did not give me an eating disorder and I suspect this rings true with a lot of girls.  She did not skew my body image.  No, I learned my bad body images at school, music videos, and people who thought it helpful to point out that I was chubby or pleasantly plump.  These images and phrases can bring fresh pain if I let it, but I am not going to let it today.

I defend Barbie.  Yes, she’s pretty, she dresses well, has every accessory under the sun and has lots of great friends.  Barbie can be a stay at home mom or she could be a doctor.  The thing is, Barbie could be anything.  She could out deal Walter White because Barbie excels in everything she does, and if he tried to shoot her and stuff her in his duffle bag that his doll comes with, well I’m pretty sure she would be able to wrestle the gun away and take him down like a good cop would, because Barbie would make one damn tough cop.  I’m sure she could even eat a doughnut or two without gaining an ounce.

I think the mom who did the on-line petition was justified in her actions.  We need more figures like Barbie and less heroes like White.  I think it’s too bad that people are lashing out against her for it.  I also think they are idiots if they want their kids to play with a meth dealing doll.  Lots of great imagination-play right there.  Maybe they’ll be able to get a chemistry set and create their own meth recipes.  If you have no clue what I’m talking about check this out:

http://www.msn.com/en-us/tv/news/%e2%80%98breaking-bad%e2%80%99-doll-drama-aaron-paul-trashes-barbie-in-defense-of-shows-toy-line/ar-BBaQqvx?ocid=U220DHP

            And for the record, I do have body image issues.  They came from the girls in my class and the classic “you know you’re fat when” tests.  The one I remember was if you put your legs together and you can’t see daylight between your crotch and thighs.  Then you were fat.  I was also told by a boy I had a crush on that I was pear shaped.  It just sounded bad.  Barbie had nothing to do with it.  I was beyond her at that point.

            Let’s cut the doll a break.  I really don’t think she’s as evil as a lot of people would want one to believe.  And let’s not buy our children meth making dolls this holiday season.  It just seems very, very wrong.

Crossword Puzzles

             I do love crossword puzzles.  If I’m bored and there is one nearby I am on that puzzle!  As long as they are easy I am happy.  I love totally finishing one without having to look up clues.  The satisfaction of seeing it finished correctly makes me want to wave it in the air and brag to all my non-puzzle loving friends.  They won’t get it.  You do, if you love your puzzle.  It doesn’t have to be crossword.  It has to be something you need to complete, though. 

The empty puzzle calls to me – “fill me in!” it cries plaintively.  My trusty pencil in my hand, sharp, but not too sharp to rip the paper as I start my small printing of letters.  Slightly lighter on the clues that I’m not too sure of, just in case I need to erase.  Newspaper doesn’t take too kindly to erasing.  It usually smudges pretty dark. 

I used to carry a puzzle book with me wherever I went. I kept it in my purse, or sometimes in the glove compartment of the car.  When my daughter got old enough she would sneak it away and do puzzles of her own.  She likes the word search mags and books.  When she was locked up I would send them to her so she would have something to do with her brain while she figured out where her life was going. 

Yes, when I need to unwind, to take advantage of quiet time but can’t sit still, I’ll take that crossword puzzle.  I will take it and I will rule it!!!

 

 

Wrong Number

Several weeks ago I got home from work and listened to the messages on my answering machine.  There were several from the same person, and at first I couldn’t understand her.  She had a very strong Brooklyn accent, and although I grew up with those accents, coming from an unfamiliar voice made it a little less decipherable.  I did decipher it, however, and this woman was calling from a hospital, where she had just been admitted, and wanted her friend to call her back as soon as she got the message.

 I ended up calling her and explaining to her who I was and why I was calling.  I told her if she gave me the name of her friend I would look up the number for her so she could get her to come visit her.  She said “But this is the number I call her at all the time!”, then she recited my phone number.  I told her that it was mine and I would help her find her friend if she would like.  She finally decided she could be wrong and gave me the name.  I looked it up and she was one number off.  I read it to her and she got quiet and then she apologized.  I told her it wasn’t a problem.  I just wanted to help.  Wishing her a speedy recovery, we hung up.

This has happened to me before.  Not the messages but a wrong number caller.  There’s a little old lady who had a stroke some time ago, in the next town over, who calls once in a while.  Her eye site is going and she can’t see the numbers so well.  Sometimes she’ll ask for someone, sometimes she will just start talking.  This is how I learned Robin Williams took his own life.  She called and very quickly told me what she had just seen on CNN, that she couldn’t talk right now, but we would talk later.  Then she said good bye and we hung up.  I didn’t see the point of telling her she had the wrong number.  What good would it have done?

 

 

It's A Cat's Life

     My cat is living the life.  He has his own personal doormen, a personal waiter, and someone who will groom him when he allows.  
     He has been so elusive the first eight years of his life that we indulge him now.  
     Cal was hand fed his fifth and sixth week of life as he was given to my daughter on the street and of course I didn't know who to return him to.  He was weaned way too early and he refused a bottle.  I fed him by dipping my finger in formula and letting him lick it off.  This led to a lot of hand biting later on.  It took me a while to connect it to his early feeding.  I thought because of this feeding method that we had to use, that he and I would bond and he'd be my shadow but it didn't turn out that way.  
     He would NEVER let me hold him for more than a minute or two when he was younger.  He wasn't feral, he just didn't want to be touched.  Looking back now we think it could have been allergies.  His skin seemed to bother him a lot.  We've switched cat food now and he's much better.
     Because we had another cat with us before he came in to the picture, he took back seat to her.  She was the queen and she let him know it.  She ruled the bedroom and she was exclusively mine and I was hers.  I tried to get them to get along but it wasn't meant to be.  
     Almost immediately after she died he started getting on the bed with us.  At night he generally cuddles with my boyfriend, but after I fall asleep he lays down on my pillow by my head.  The changes that he has gone through in the last year have been amazing and I've been putting two and two together and I think that we have finally truly bonded.  I think my cat really does love me.  I know I love him, even though he can be a real jerk sometimes.
     It was amazing tonight, after he came in the house, that he let me grab him, flip him over and hold him like a baby.  This lasted about ten minutes and I'm sure to him seemed like an hour.  He's so much more patient with me know and I am so happy to see his character and sweetness instead of feeling attacked and disliked by him.  I miss my other cat terribly, but I'm also grateful for this time with Cal.  His life is a mystery still unfolding before my eyes.

Cal, more relaxed than I have ever seen him!

Nightmares

This morning I had a nightmare.  I was kidnapped, with the kids and a group from Scouts (I think).  People looked familiar but I had no idea who they were.  The kidnapper was a guy who looked like Joe Montegna.  He was viscous and we were always uncertain if he meant to kill us or not and I was so scared for the kids and we were given plenty of chances to run because the group was a large one but everyone was scared to do anything and I just wanted the kids to be safe and I kept telling them to call 911 when he was planning to take a few of the adults away, including me, but either they didn't have a phone or they just were too scared to.  It was one of those dreams where I couldn't make myself fall asleep afterwards to find out what happens.  I woke up finally after he slit a woman's throat who walked into the encampment as an example of what he would do to the rest of us.  The dream is still so vivid in my mind I feel I've left the kids behind because I won't go back to sleep to rescue them.
Am I losing my mind?  I know my anxiety attacks are back.

Days Like These

It's days like these that I realize out of the 222 friends on Facebook, I have no true, real friend.  I used to have friends that I partied with, then we grew up and apart.  I used to have friends that I worked with, then I moved to an office that doesn't foster friendships and I am alone.  I have a long-term boyfriend, but his views oppose mine and therefore I cannot even cry in front of him because of this.  What should be the happiest time of my life, is becoming a sorrow that I just can't deal with.
My daughter is in jail.  She goes for sentencing soon and is planning on leaving her husband when she is released.  I'm thrilled that she is trying to put her life together - he is the reason she has been in trouble in the last five years.  He is controlling and abusive and if he dropped dead it wouldn't hurt my feelings, in fact I would go to his funeral.  No, the part of all this is losing the kids.  By law, because my daughter is not their natural mother, and because he is a giant douche bag, we will not get visitation.  I want to see the kids and remind them that we love them, but they are being punished, by us, for stealing and are not allowed at the house right now.  My bf won't back down and I haven't asked him to.  It's important for us to follow through.  But their father has them call and ask us if they can come over and when we say no, but let's get together Sunday afternoon, he has them hang up.  The girl is eleven.  She knows what's up and how to survive.  The boy, my heart, my little soul mate, is struggling so hard.  He's trying to please a crooked father by stealing, and yet he knows it's wrong.  Before he hangs up I tell him I love him.  He doesn't answer.  I know he heard me.  I know I'm on speaker phone.  I don't know if his father will let me take them Sunday.  I don't know anything.  All I know is I miss them.  I miss the hugs, the I love you's, the holding my hand, the constant "mema this, mema that, mema can we...".
I don't know what to do.  I can't call my mom because my daughter doesn't want her to know her plans.  I don't want her to tell me what I've done wrong and what she is going to do to fix it.  I just miss those kids and the fun we had and because one asshole doesn't want to deal with them, or wants me to take them so he can party, I will lose any time I can reinforce my love for them.
God this hurts.  I don't know how much more I can take.  I don't understand why God would put these children in my life and me in theirs and then take them away from me and me from them.  I don't get it!  And the worst part is I know they don't understand why I'm not there and I will not have a chance to explain it.
I wish I had someone to talk with about it.  I can't afford counseling and I don't have any friends, not real friends, that want to deal with me and my problems.  I never thought I needed anyone and after getting burned by a couple friends I figured I was better off on my own, but I really need one right now.

Homeless in Hawaii

In a land of beauty, Hawaii is sure looking ugly these days.

Yes, her homeless are defecating in public places.  It’s too bad there are so many that they can’t use a public rest room.  Perhaps Hawaii should address the homeless issue with a little compassion and interest in WHY the high rate, instead of sending its homeless to a dirty deserted island that used to be used as a landfill. 

All of a sudden, at least to me, Hawaii isn’t so pretty anymore.  In fact, it seems downright ugly, unforgiving and unapologetic.  I don’t have all the answers, but it seems to me that as the richest country in the world there should not be homeless people.  And for those people who say that it is a choice I say that it is a choice for the very few.  Most people who are homeless do not choose to live on the street and eat what they find and put their lives in danger.

 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/10/hawaii-homeless-relocation_n_5798714.html