Lessons from Ferguson

Listen.  I’m not going to get into a political debate, or race debate, or right or wrong debate.  I think enough time has now passed to post this blog, which I started as soon as I heard the decision, which started a whole shit storm reaction.

But let me just say this.  If a cop tells me to do something, I’m going to do it.  If he tells me to jump, I’ll say how high.  If he tell me to put my hands up, they are going up.  If he tells me to get down, I’m getting down.  In fact I might do that all that, without even being told.


I don’t care if you are white, black, purple, red or yellow.  You respect the badge.  In fact, you should fear the badge.  I am a white woman who has never been arrested.  Yet I would never jeopardize myself in ways that disrespect others.

A cop (or a soldier, for that matter) has only an instant in time to decide whether you are a good guy or a bad guy.  If you make ANY KIND OF DUMB ASS MOVE, it’s your own damn fault if you pay for it with your life.  If you chose to play around with a toy gun, that has its safety marking removed, you will pay for that mistake too.  If you start shooting off your mouth, or make threatening moves, once again, you are responsible for your mistake, and may pay for it with your life.

A cop leaves for work every day wondering if it will be his last.  A routine traffic stop.  A defiant kid.  A car chase.  Any kind of altercation, can end in tragedy.

Is it the cop’s fault?  Unless you can put yourself into his shoes, at that exact moment, you will never know.  Hesitate, and it might be your last moment on earth.  You face life and death every day.  That’s why they go through extensive training.

Yes, there are cases of abuse from cops.  It is caught on the dash cams frequently enough.  Not every cop is posing for holy pictures.  But who knows what that cop has seen, what he has been through.  That’s why I say, don’t give anyone reason to harm you.  Don’t talk back, keep your mouth shut, let it get sorted out.

Every white cop that shoots a black kid is going to be under scrutiny.  Unfortunately, many cops are white, and in many criminals areas, the perps/criminals/unsubs/ are black.  It’s a fact of life people.

Truthfully, I have no idea why anybody would want to be a cop anymore, especially in racially tense areas.  Sometimes, no matter they do, it is wrong.  If they shoot someone, they are wrong.  If they don’t and they get shot, they are dead.  So tell me the truth right now….would YOU want to be a cop in Ferguson right now?  Or any myriad of cities around the country?

Policeman, firemen, soldiers.  All put their lives on the line, for their city, for their state, for their country.  They have very dangerous occupations.  They are there to help make our lives safer.

When you have to send in police wearing military gear to quell riots, you are putting everyone at risk.  Violence begets violence.  The cycle has to be broken.  I don’t know how.  I don’t have the answers.  But I do know that the way to respect a dead child is NOT to loot stores and come home with new electronics, and then burn your neighborhood down!  Many of the stores were owned by local black people who worked all their lives to have something of their own, and now it is gone.

Everybody has an opinion.  Everybody is entitled to one.  But sort the facts out first.  Don’t jump to conclusions.  Examine your own motives.  Search your own soul.  If we all did that, maybe another Ferguson won’t happen.


I want to be a man on the holidays!

Another holiday is upon us, Happy Thanksgiving!  Which reminds me, I have a bone to pick with half the population.


In this day and age of sexual equality, and two-income households, how come the MEN aren’t expected to go to work, clean the house, prepare the feast, and then do all the clean-up?

Hell no they don’t, they eat, drink beer, and then lay on the couch and watch football.


And how come single woman are expected to do all of the above, but single men just show up somewhere empty-handed?  Ok maybe they bring a 12 pack of their favorite beer.


This just frosts my ass.  But women perpetuate it, by letting men get away with it.


I used to go ballistic inside at company Christmas parties, where the woman all were expected to bring in all kinds of food, and the men brought nothing, or were assigned to buy paper plates.  Talk about unfair.

Now, before you get your undies in a bunch and cry foul, not ALL men are like this.  I have seen a few that do cook, and chip in with prep and clean-up.  They are worth their weight in gold.  Although, beware of the man who cooks and then leaves the kitchen looking like a nightmare!


Also, since when are children exempt from helping out?  When I was growing up, my sister and I did most of the cleaning, the dishes etc.  But it seems our generation didn’t want to treat their kids the same (like slaves, lol), and so they continue to do it all themselves, and don’t ask their kids to do much at all.  Maybe take the garbage out.  And before you get your undies in a bunch again, I’m not talking about little kids, I’m talking about maybe 10 and up.  Old enough to help out.


Even the dang animals are lazy!


So I guess I have a bone to pick with MORE than half the population.  Men and children, lol.  And cats.  Now, I’m not trying to be picky and bitching on Thanksgiving.  I just want EVERYONE to help out, and give your women folk a break!

But if you look like THIS….forget everything I just said!


Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

P.S.  Please take this blog in the irreverent spirit in which it was intended!

It’s all about that work, no turkey!


I was pondering about Thanksgivings past.  I am SO grateful they are gone, and I can enjoy the holiday tomorrow ALL DAY AND NIGHT!

Back in the day when I worked for a very large pharmaceutical company which shall remain nameless, I worked a lot of hours.  I mean, a LOT, especially around year-end closing time, as I worked in Accounting.  We had 52 international affiliates to close at the end of November, and then the Parent Company at the end of December.  We started doing prep work in October, and finally would finish up with everything end of January.  During that time, we would work 80-90 hours a week.  Seriously.  I hear that company has changed their ways since then, but back in the cave men day when I worked there, we used a stone tablet to mark our numbers down.  I remember the day we upgraded to an abacus, how exciting!  Then we were granted ONE computer, to do all 52 affiliates.  Can you kids just imagine?  I kid you not.  We did a lot of manual calculating, on calculators with tapes, so we could double check our numbers when things didn’t add up.

Anyway, moving on.  I was newly married and moved into our home.  My father had just died, and my mom didn’t feel too festive.  So I was happy to take over the Thanksgiving holiday, and invite ALL the relatives!

What was I thinking?  I barely had time to sleep, and here I was hosting a holiday that was VERY labor intensive.  My husband at the time traveled a lot, so he was no help.

I remember that first year.  What a nightmare.  I worked until 9 pm the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and then hit the grocery store on the way home.  All the turkeys were frozen!  When I got home I put the turkey in the sink with cold water like they said to defrost it.  I had bought the biggest turkey they had.  I didn’t realize how long it would take to thaw out.  So I started cleaning the house, polishing the silver, ironing tablecloths, setting the big table, setting up extra tables.

I was up all night.  When you work 90 hours a week, your housekeeping goes to shit.  I put the turkey in the oven in the morning.  Everybody came over, we were having a good time, until it was time to take the turkey out of the oven.  My mom was going to do the gravy, so she was helping me take the stuffing out of the bird.  I said, for such a big turkey I couldn’t fit much stuffing in!  My mom then gasped in horror and pulled out the bag of guts, or giblets or whatever you call them.  I had no idea I was supposed to remove it, it was my first turkey rodeo, lol.  Anyway, she said, shhhhh, don’t tell anyone, it’s ok.  And we served a delicious feast!  Everyone stayed really late, eating and drinking.

Unfortunately, I had to be back at work at 6 a.m. the next morning, and we worked until 2 a.m., which was usual.  And yes, Saturdays and Sundays too.

Now, you would think I’d get smart and tell people that while it was fun, I just couldn’t do Thanksgiving anymore.  Or Christmas, because it was even busier then.  Or New Years.  And by the time Easter rolled around, I was half dead.  Oh, and then I enrolled in grad school.  2 classes a semester, which meant 8 hours a week of class time, plus about 10 hours of week of group meetings, plus homework.

However, I was a gluten for punishment, and continued to host Thanksgiving every year.  But I finally got smart and prepared way ahead of time, and did my Christmas shopping etc. in the summer.  When I finally graduated, and got a different job internally that didn’t require as many hours, I wondered what to do with my time!  I think I work better under pressure.  If I have nothing to do, I get lazy.  No more nightmares of holidays past.

But this year?  I am glad to be a lazy slug.  I think I deserve it, after all the health issues I have had the past couple of years.  I make the desserts now, and go across the street to my sister’s house for dinner, with other neighbor families.  And at Christmas I go to my brother’s house, next door, and bring appetizers or veggies or something.  My SIL is a great cook and baker, so we eat like kings and queens.

One more reason to be grateful this holiday season!

Count your blessings. Seriously.

thankfulI’ve been in kind of a funk lately, thanks to my hip.  It is SO hard to stay positive all the time, when you keep getting knocked down.  But that old adage?  That there is someone who is worse off than you?  It’s so true.

I know someone who had cancer, and went through a very rough year of treatment.  But she got through it.  She was so brave, so strong.  A real trooper.  We all breathed such a sigh of relief that she was on her way out the other side.  Her cancer was controlled.

But.  Always seems to be a but with cancer, right?  It came back.  With a vengeance.  In an even more difficult area to treat.  Hit her with a knock out punch, right out of the blue.  She had to make some very difficult treatment decisions, very fast.

But she did.  And if I know this woman, she will make it.  She has a long hard road in front of her, but she will persevere.

She made me feel ashamed of myself for my own self pity.  My problems pale in comparison to hers.  Yes, mine are bad.  But it’s not cancer.  It’s not life threatening.  At least not right now.  It can be eventually, but that would be my choice.

I’m not gonna lie, I did have a very bad year, actually year and a half, with this damn hip.  I have had 7 surgeries, 6 hospital stays, 2 ER visits, 3 nursing home stays that totaled 3 months.  Add in the hospital stays, and I’ve spent 4-5 months away from my home.  The worst was my 2 month stay, where I felt like I was in prison.  My free will was taken away from me.  I felt so helpless.  I could not leave, even if I wanted to.  I had all my choices taken away from me.  Even food, lol.  I had massive surgeries, horrible pain.

Luckily I came out the other side.  I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief, and was SO THANKFUL, GRATEFUL, that it was done.  I could walk.  I was attached to a bed, a wheelchair, a walker, a cane.  I was FREE.  I thanked God every day, and all the prayer warriors who prayed for me.

But.  Always a but with these things, right?  It came back.  Just like before.  Almost right away.  And just like before, I am going to have to walk the same path, again.  Against my will.  I SWORE after the last time I would NEVER do this again.  Of course at the time I never expected to have to face this again.

Monday I go back to the hospital, for yet another procedure, to find out what is growing in my hip this time.  If all the planets align right and God is with me, maybe it is just inflammation from something else, maybe the blood tests are wrong.  If God is with me maybe it will be a simple fix.  I do know something is wrong.  It has felt wrong since the beginning.  Although I will say that it seems to have gotten a bit better, but more likely, I have just adjusted to this new level of pain.  I have not been pain free for a year and a half.

Most likely I will have to start from scratch again.  I know the path ahead of me.  I do not want to walk that path again.  Neither does my friend.  Sometimes, we just gotta do it, no matter what.  Or I could choose to do nothing, and let nature take its course.  I only hope I have the courage to choose the right path.  I only hope I can be as strong as her.  I only hope I can be positive.  I only hope it will get better.  And STAY better.

Thank you, my friend, for having the courage to fight your battle, and giving me the incentive to fight my mine.  My prayers are with you.

Happy Anniversary my love

Today would have been my 38th wedding anniversary to my first husband.  That’s right I said first.  He should have been my first, and last.

He was my first true love.  I had many firsts with him, the most important being my virginity.  I think that’s how I knew he was the man for me.  I had held out for sooo long, and yet didn’t give it a second thought after I met him.

We got married after only 6 months.  We lived far apart, but both worked in Chicago.  We had lunch together, and walked to the train station together, every day.  We couldn’t bear to be apart.  So we got married.

We were so in love.  How did it go so wrong?  Not going to point fingers, too late for that.  About 30 years too late.  I blame both our jobs, mostly.  Too much time apart.  That’s about all I’ll say about it.  It all still hurts inside and makes me cry, even today.  Especially today.

I have not spoken to him, or seen him, in 30 years.  I know where he lives, but that’s about it.  But I never forget this day.  It was truly one of the happiest days of my life.  So wherever you are, I just want to say…

Happy Anniversary to my first love.

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas


This is a story about the Boss  Grinch Who Stole Christmas, literally right out from underneath all his employees.  You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.

He was my LAST. BOSS. EVER.  He is the reason why I am self-employed now, and will never ever be subjected to abuse again.

He started out so nice.  My first Christmas there, we had a beautiful Christmas tree, fires in the fireplace, Christmas carols on the radio, Christmas presents, Christmas lunch, Christmas bonus, and a nice Honey Baked Ham to take home.  Plus two paid weeks off, for which we were very grateful, as the vacation and holiday allowance was sparse.

By the time the second Christmas came around, the blush had faded from the rose a bit.  I was starting to see his true personality come out.  Good people fired for no good reason except they weren’t his yes men.  Disrespect to the hourly employees.  Ranting and raving in the office.  Out of control political views.  No Christmas tree.  No Christmas lunch.  No Christmas bonus.  The managers bought the boss a very nice expensive.  No gifts in return.  We did receive the leftover Christmas wreaths, and got the paid two weeks off.  The managers, including myself, still came in over the break to work as it was a very busy snow season.

The third Christmas was the final one.  He was quickly spiraling out of control.  The ranting and raving got the best of me, every day.  There was total silence in the office, except for his screaming at me, a customer, the dog, whatever.  Once again, No Christmas tree.  I brought a small artificial tree in and plugged it in on the counter with an extension cord.  Every day when I came into work, the extension cord would be gone.  I would find another.  Pretty soon I figured out that there was to be NO Christmas spirit and gave up and took the tree home.  No Christmas songs on the radio. (I tried playing Christmas CD’s on my computer, but suddenly my CD drive was broken).  No fires.  No Christmas lunch.  No Christmas bonus.  No Christmas presents whatsoever.  By this time the managers wised up and didn’t bother to buy him one.  He begrudgingly gave us the two weeks off, only because he was going on vacation, but made it unpaid.  The last day before break, he never even said Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, have a nice holiday, go fuck yourselves.  Nothing.  Nada.  I did not go out of my way to go in over break to work, only when absolutely necessary.

That boss ruined my Christmas spirit for quite awhile.  But with time I realized that HE was the problem, not me, and I shouldn’t let someone else force their negativity on me.  He used to make fun of me for going to church, being Catholic and believing in the real reason for Christmas.

I only feel sorry for him now.  Besides his girlfriend, who is just as delusional as him, he is basically alone in this world.  His drove his family away years ago.

When I go to church this Christmas, I will pray for him.

Did he or didn’t he?

bill cosbyNow Bill Cosby is in the hot seat.  Several women have accused him of sexual abuse.  Actually, it is a lot more than several women.  Back in 2005, 14 women accused him of a variety of sexual assaults, and he settled out of court with them in 2006.

Allegedly he likes to drug his victims, and then fondle/assault/rape them, according to his accusers.  The accusations go back as far as the 1970’s, from what I can tell.

Janice Dickinson is the latest woman to tell her story.  She may not seem like the most reliable accuser, but why else would she put herself out there?  Not something I would think a woman would do just to be in the spotlight.

He is guilty of these allegations?  I don’t know.  It’s hard to say for sure.

In the case of someone famous, I think there are several things at play:

When a person becomes famous, they become powerful, and sometimes take advantage of that power.

But, a famous person may be falsely accused of things for money.

However, when it seems to happen more than once or twice, it appears to be more than coincidence.  Usually there is some truth to the matter.  Perhaps it is embellished a bit.  Hopefully people aren’t just jumping on the band wagon.  But where there’s smoke, there’s fire…

Personally, I do think he could be guilty.  It’s the drugging part that leaves me to believe this.  Otherwise, it would be his word against hers, he would say it was “mutual”.  Once you start handing out pills, as Janice Dickerson contends,  it is no longer a fair game.  It seems most of his accusers wake up knowing they were abused but not remembering much.  When you wake up naked next to a man, usually something sexual has happened, with or without your consent.

Bill Cosby has remained silent so far.  His lawyers have posted the usual standby statement he  “won’t dignify these allegations with any response.”

It will be interesting to see how this all plays out.  What do you think?  I’d love to hear your opinion on this matter.



Top Ten Reasons to be Self-Employed

10. You don’t have set your alarm

9.  You can go to swim class 3 mornings a week

8.  You can work in your pajamas

7.  Your cat can be your assistant

6.  You don’t have to drive in snowstorms

5.  You can work when you have insomnia

4.  You don’t have to get involved in company politics/gossip

3.  You are your own best friend and advocate

2.  You don’t have to cry on your way home from work every day

And the NUMBER ONE reason to be self-employed:

1.  You don’t have to work for an egotistical, narcissistic boss who is a liar/cheater/scammer/thief

Counting my lucky stars today!  So blessed to be FREE!

Zoosk me not

zoosk1There is an online dating service that keeps appearing on my Facebook and sending me messages for matches.  Zoosk.  I’m always up for a good laugh so sometimes I peruse the website and look at the “matches” they have selected for me.  I’m not sure what criteria they are using, but we are NOT of the same mind.

Men with beards down to their waist, men with ponytails, men holding their phones up to a mirror, men with HUGE glasses, men with old dirty T shirts on, men with flannel shirts on, men holding toy poodles, men with SQUIRRELS on their shoulders, I kid you not!

Not ONE PICTURE have I seen that is 1)clear and in focus 2) the man has bathed and at a minimum combed his hair 3) the man has shaved in the last 5 or 10 ten years, 4) the man has updated his wardrobe in the last 20 years 5) the man has made ANY attempt to look attractive to a woman. 6) the man doesn’t look half drunk.

I almost want to pay the subscription fees so I can email these men and tell them how to shape up so that they might get a little action going on.  But I recently broke up with a guy who made very little attempt to make himself more attractive to me, even after we had several talks about it.  Some men just can’t be changed, and that’s fine.  Just not for me, no thank you.

Now, I am no lovey duck myself, but I do try to bath every day and put on some makeup and do up my hair and put on clean unwrinkled clothes.  I try to put my best foot forward, as much as possible.  These guys put zero effort into posting a decent picture on a website to try and get a date.

Well, I guess it’s good for a laugh.  And I’m really trying hard not to be mean and make fun of people.  I just don’t understand it.  Many people meet online and get married and live happily ever after.  I think you get what you pay for, and Zoosk may fall at the bottom of the sites as far as I’m concerned.  But, I’m not looking, and I’m not paying, so I guess I don’t care!


phobiaWhen I was younger, I didn’t understand “phobias”.  I wasn’t reckless, but I did many things without fear.

I skied the highest mountains, I rode up chairlifts 10,000 ft., I drove my Mustang GT fast, I rode snowmobiles, I drove on expressways.  I crossed high bridges

Not anymore.  Now, I am scared.  Frightened out of my mind.

It started slowly.  I remember being in Europe in my early 30’s, and was too scared to cross over the mountain pass on Mount Blanc, the highest peak in Europe.  Too much space around me, too narrow a path.  Certain death awaited me.

Next I was too scared to sit in the upper deck at baseball games. When walking to my row it felt like I would just pitch forward into the infield.  Gravity would not hold me at that angle.  I wanted to fall to my knees and crawl to my seat, and would have if it wasn’t concrete.

Then it was the driving.  Too scared to drive fast.  By this time I had traded the Mustage for an SUV.  I drove like an old lady.  I drove like my mother, always looking for a child or animal to dart into the street.  People make fun of me, but what’s the point of passing someone on a winding two lane road when there is a line of traffic.  You’re going to risk your life to get there 2 seconds sooner?  And I am a horrible passenger, I hate driving with people who tail gate and accelerate fast and brake hard.  Why not just glide, and save some gas while you are at it?

Next came high bridges.  This one almost cost me my life, and my date’s too.  We were driving to a PGA tourney in Kohler Wisconsin on the expressway, and before I knew it we were on this curving high bridge, way over the city.  My hands froze on the wheel, my heart started palpitating, sweat was running down my face, and I thought I was going to die.  My date was still chattering to me, and I could not even find my voice to tell him to STFU.  Well, obviously I made it across, but I told my date then that he would have to drive home because I was too scared.  He proceeded to get stinking drunk at the golf tourney, and I was forced to drive home too, the same way, because I didn’t know how else to get home.  This is how my date almost lost his life, because I would have gladly killed him.  In fact, when we got back to my house,  I none too gently shoved him into his car and told him to get lost.  I never spoke to him again.

Too scared to drive on expressways, because it seemed like truckers would try to prevent me from merging into traffic, or changing lanes.  Twice in a row, I was trying to merge onto the expressway after work, and a truck wouldn’t not let me merge in.  I’m on a ramp, with space running out before I hit the guardrail going over a hill, and if I sped he, he sped up, if I slowed down, he slowed down.  It basically became a game of chicken, because I couldn’t stop, there were cars behind me.  So I floored the old 8 cylinder and hoped I could make it in front of the truck, who very kindly blew his air horn at me, scaring the BEEJESUS out of me and almost causing me to fly over the overpass.  I was doing 90 when I cut in front of him, barely missing the guardrail, and that asshole was still speeding up.  I literally saw my life flash before my eyes.  I got off at the next exit, and just sat there, shaking.  I would say never again, but I have driven on the expressway to go O’Hare, but not using that on ramp.  Never again for that one.

Basically I think I have a fear of height, and speed.  Maybe it’s just old age, lol.

What are YOUR phobias?

P.S.  I won’t even mention spiders.  Ain’t nobody got time for that!