Blog challenge · Mi Vida Loca · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · postaday

The End Is Upon Us!

Hello people! Yes, the end is upon us!

Whoa, settle down, I’m just talking about the end of November and Nano Poblano/NaBloPoMo. It’s been a wild ride hasn’t it? Wild and fun and unexpected sometimes!


We had several blog hops going at the same time. Gratitude, names and a great Nano story! Thank you Nerd, Mark and Fishy! You guys all rock! I also want to thank Mark for being the great Captain Poblano! Didn’t he do an awesome job?

As for me personally, I thought the month just flew by. Here on this blog, I went in many different directions. Where the brain went, I just followed and took notes. I did silly things and serious things. I also asked for help. Believe me that one was a tough one for me, but I am so grateful that I did that post. So many of you emailed or commented and gave great advice. You showed me that I wasn’t alone in trying times and I feel so blessed to have blogging buddies like you! So thank you from the bottom of my heart. ❤

I also did The Great Christmas Card Exchange, which for me is becoming an annual event here! Thank you to all of my readers that have joined. As I said many times before, you guys are the best of the best! I will have those lists for those doing the group card mailing out by the end of today! Plenty of time to get them out for Christmas.

So what’s next for me? What’s going to happen in December? If all goes well, I am going to try to do posts every other day at the least. I so enjoyed myself this month. I’m going to try to do more fiction short stories, maybe even expand on some I’ve all ready started. I have lots of ideas for those!

I’ll be myself, a bit silly and a bit serious. I will update on my personal home life a bit more. You were all so helpful and super understanding that I no longer feel so isolated. I know you will offer good advice or just be a shoulder to lean on when I need it.

We will have lists, and crazy gadgets and all sorts of fun. So stay tuned! I’m also thinking of doing more picture prompt stories, so if anyone has a picture you want to see a story attached to, send it my way via my contact page! I’m always on the lookout for good pictures for story telling.

Everyone who was involved in Nano Poblano/NaBloPoMo should pat themselves on the back! You were all outstanding and should be proud! You all made me laugh, think, ponder, smile and sometimes laugh. Isn’t that what it’s all about at the end of the day?

So let’s continue this crazy, loving journey. Onward!!!



Blog challenge · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction · postaday · Uncategorized

The Lowly Safety Pin and Its Many Uses

Hello People!

I do hope your weekend is going great!

It’s almost the end of November and Nano Poblano/NaBloPoMo. So yeah, I’m almost out of writing ideas. I say almost, as I still have a few tricks up my sleeves. I have actually enjoyed doing a post a day this month. Made me use my gray matter a bit more than usual. That’s got to be a good thing, right?

Like today’s post. All about the lowly safety pin. We take it for granted! It can be used for lots of things, besides just holding a bra strap together.

Did you know?

The safety pin was invented by American mechanic Walter Hunt in 1849. It was first called a “dress pin”, made to help prevent hurt fingers and bent pins from using straight pins. Over the years, people have found other uses for the safety pin.

  • It can even be used to prevent pickpockets! Just simply pin your zippers in your purse with a safety pin to the fabric of the liner of your purse, they can’t unzip your purse easily this way, it can be done with your backpacks too!
  • Ladies do you suffer from static cling with your dresses or skirts? Just pin a small safety pin to the inside lining or slip. The metal in the pin conducts the electricity and diverts the static.
  • I’m sure we all know that if you have a broken zipper you can use a safety pin for replacement zipper tab.
  • How about using it as a fish hook? Yup, you sure can!
  • They also can be used as clothes pins for hanging up clothes on a clothes line.
  • Now I’ve used them in emergency sewing, you can hem your pants with them. I’ve done it once or twice.
  • How about for ‘plumbers crack’? You know what I’m talking about. Those low riding jeans or shorts that when you bend over shows the crack of your butt. Just use a safety pin to pin your shirt to your pants!
  • In the 80’s safety pins were used as a fashion statement by punk rock groups. They even used them as body piercings! Ouch!
  • You can use them as a push pin on a cork board. I’ve done that.
  • They make a great device for keeping papers together if you run out of paper clips and can’t find the pesky stapler.
  • Can’t find enough hooks to put those Christmas decorations up with? Use a safety pin!
  • Crafters use them in jewelry making.

How about in fashion?


Anyone else with any ideas for the use of safety pins? Let me know in the comments! 


Blogging · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction · postaday

The Great Christmas Card Exchange Update and Some Other Cool Stuff

Hello People! Hope those that celebrated Thanksgiving yesterday had a great one! Now, it’s time for those leftovers. Personally, I love a good turkey sandwich. Any pie left? 😉

Now, down to business.

Everyone still has a few days left to join me and many others in The Great Christmas Card Exchange. If you click on the Christmas card in my sidebar, it will take you to the post that explains it all and where you can email me your name and address.

In a nutshell; Last year me and a few other bloggers decided to exchange real paper Christmas cards. I enjoyed it so much I decided to do it again this year and all of you are invited! Please read the post where I explain it all and join us! It’s a cheap way to brighten someone’s Christmas this year. Plus, you get a Christmas card from your’s truly! ( I know not such a great incentive, but I try)

I will be sending out the lists for every participant (if you joined in the ‘group’ plan) this afternoon or tomorrow morning. So be on the lookout for an email from me soon!


Something else has happened that I would like to tell you about. Don’t worry, this is a good one! On Nov. 23rd, I did a post all about coffee. Now you all know how I love a good cup of coffee.

One of the things I mentioned was the most expensive coffee beans out there. Entrepreneur Blake Dinkin (a Canadian) is the founder and the brains behind Black Ivory Coffee, which can now boast about being the most expensive coffee beans produced. If you remember, the beans are fed to the elephants who then poop them out and the beans are picked out of the waste.

I had a  pleasant surprise this morning when I heard from Mr. Dinkin himself on my blog post! He was very kind and explained some more about the bean process, well here, I’ll include his comment from the post. (You can read it yourself right in the post and my reply if you wish)

Hi. Thanks for your comments on Black Ivory Coffee. I would like to clarify that my coffee is actually not similar to Kopi Luwak in terms of production quantity, choice of bean, biology of the animal or in terms of ethics.

If you believe the story (which you should not) that civets go out at night and eat only the best cherries they also happen to eat garbage or rotting insects. Further I highly doubt they travel hundreds of km’s annually visiting different coffee farms looking for the best Arabica beans.

Black Ivory Coffee production was 200 kg for 2014 making it one of the world’s rarest coffees. Kopi Luwak if it is real can be found on sites like for USD6/kg with quantities of 10,000 kg.

In terms of taste elephants are herbivores. Civets are omnivores. Herbivores utilize fermentation to break down the green leafy matter they consume. As a result the elephant’s stomach replicates what grapes go through in a vat to make wine. This does not happen to near the same degree with civets.

Finally, wild civets are taken from the wild and put into cages. This is unethical. The elephants I work with at GTAEF ( were rescued off the streets of Thailand and the sanctuary is a Thai registered charity with a full time elephant veterinarian.

Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.

Best Regards,

I also checked out his website and it’s beautiful! It’s full of good information on the process and about the well-being of the rescued elephants. If I had the money and was able to I would buy me some of that coffee! It’s a good thing Mr. Dinkin is doing. It also is good business sense. So go take a look and if you are so inclined, drop him a note (under contact) and tell him thanks!

As for you Mr. Blake Dinkin, thank you for responding directly and I wish you all the best in your endeavor!
Blog challenge · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · poetry · postaday

Frost ~~~ A Poem




Frost sparkles on the grass
Silvery, glittery beautiful mass
Mother Nature’s shiny jewels
Who would think it’s just water molecules?

Frost, a beauty to behold
Why oh why are you so cold?
I watch as ghostly grass sway in the wind
Shards of ice swirl like dancers, so disciplined.

Frost slowly disappears
As a weak sun shine and perseveres
Misty ghosts of natures making fade away
Glittery dresses gone till another day.


Blogging · Mi Vida Loca · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction · postaday · Stories of my life

Something I’ve Never Talked About

Hello people! Hope your day is going great. Ready for Thanksgiving? Those that are celebrating it tomorrow, I hope it’s stress free and fun-filled!

Today, I’m going in a different direction with my blog. First, let me state, I am NOT looking for sympathy. I talk about my past sometimes, about abuse, about my ex the narc, about family and some issues I have with them. I very rarely talk about my life in the here and now.

I do talk about ME, but not about my life here, or my husband or anything that is going on at home. Some know my story, most don’t. I’m actually a pretty private person. So why have I decided to let some of my story known? Because I need help. I need to hear from some other people who might be going through some of what I am going through and how to cope during the hard times.

Let me explain.

caregiver stress

I’m from the states. I came to Canada close to 14 years ago when I struck up a friendship with my now husband online at a gaming site. We talked for hours on the phone and online. So I decided to take holidays from my job for a couple of weeks and go to Canada to meet him in person. To make that long story short, I came, I met, things happened, I stayed, we got married.

My husband’s health had always been good, except for his back. At odd times and it seemed for no good reason his back would go out and he’d be in terrible pain and could hardly stand up straight. He’d take a few days off work and lay on the couch and his back would get better. Till one time it didn’t get better.

That was a little more than 2 years ago. He bent over to lift an empty bucket and his back went out. We thought it would be like the last number of times, he would rest on the couch for a few days and his back would be better. Didn’t happen. It ended up he was off work for 8 months while the doctors tried to figure out what was wrong. Good thing we had insurance from his work place to help us make it through.

After months and months of doctors visits and tests and x-rays, they came back with his prognosis. Spurs at several places on the spine and arthritis of the spine. Inoperable because of the spurs being so many along the spine, of course, for the arthritis there is no cure. Double whammy.

So we talked things through and he decided he would try to go back to work as he had 5 more years before he could retire with full benefits. He tried to go back to work, but between fighting the insurance company and his workplace for the right to go back to work he developed anxiety attacks that would land him in the emergency room.

Finally, he was able to go back to work full-time doing the job he had been doing for 35 years. He lasted 3 months. His back and the pain that came with it just wouldn’t let him do it. So he opted to take early retirement, even though we couldn’t afford it. We had no choice. There was no way he could work. So I became his caretaker.

Our marriage was rocky years before he had to quit his job. In fact, it was so rocky I had thought seriously of leaving and going back to the states. Again, let me stress I am not saying this for sympathy, it’s just bare, cold facts. Period.

Suddenly our roles were reversed. I was his caretaker, I became the leaning post. Things financially became difficult. More than difficult. He lost the house we were living in, his house for the past 20 years. He loved that house. The mortgage was something we just couldn’t handle anymore. We were behind in everything, barely hanging on. We lost it all. The house, his credit, everything. He had to file bankruptcy as the house and bills were in his name and were his before we got married.

We had barely enough money left to buy a 30-year-old mobile home. He fought me every step of the way too. But he had to face reality. We needed a roof over our heads and this was the only way. We bought the mobile home, at least we had a home that no one could take from us. But it seemed to be the last straw for him so to speak, he pretty much gave up. Also, right after we moved he fell down some steps outside and injured his back even more.

Now, he is on 2 super strong pain medications, plus sleeping pills. He can barely walk or function. He is almost bedridden. In two short years things went from him working every day to him being disabled with no chance of it getting better. In fact, the doctors have told us it will just get worse.

Here is where I need help. It’s humbling to admit to it. I’ve always been strong when I needed it. Now, I’m not so sure.

How does one cope? How does a person find that strength? That patience?

It is down to me doing almost everything now. We have a friend that comes over and helps with things I can’t do, thank goodness for friends. But, I find myself losing patience sometimes with my husband. Maybe it’s because he’s given up. I don’t know. There is no way I would leave him now, he needs me and I just couldn’t leave knowing he is in the shape he is. We have a relationship most wouldn’t understand, but we do, that’s all that counts.

I know a lot of what he does is because of the medications. And that he drinks. He does weird things. I have to watch him all the time. He leaves the water running in the bathroom, he leaves the portable heater going, he does other strange things.

Yesterday I lost my temper. It’s not something I’m proud of. It happened.

So my questions are…...Are there readers who are caregivers? How do you cope? How to you keep your patience with trying days? Is there a trick to this? What am I doing wrong? Am I doing anything right?

I could go on and on, but the bottom line is, my husband is completely disabled, on strong meds, drinks. I’m doing the best I can, I think, with what we have. We are trying to find help, but we fall into that middle ground, too young to qualify for a lot of government help, too old for other things that might help. I can’t go to work, as I can’t leave him alone. Plus, I have a few health issues of my own.

I am not too proud to ask for help, nor too stupid to do so. Anyone with any suggestions? Thanks from the bottom of my heart.

Blog challenge · Cee's Share Your World · Mi Vida Loca · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction · postaday

My Enjoyment List ~~ Share Your World, Week 47, 2014

This week, in honor of Thanksgiving in the USA, Cee, over at Cee’s Photography has asked us to make a list of what we enjoy. Here is my list.

Hope everyone that celebrates Thanksgiving this week has a wonderful, stress free, enjoyable week!


My List of Enjoyment

1. My dog Sam
2. coffee
3. waking up in the mornings
4. blogging friends who turn into great best friends
5. sunshine
6. thunderstorms
7. rainbows
8. rain
9. music
10. my computer
11. being able to write stories
12. my friend Bill, who comes over and does things around the house that I can’t do, like mowing my lawn all summer
13. WordPress, because I have gotten to know some awesome people on here (see #4)
14. wolves, they are SO misunderstood
15. Tammy, Sam’s groomer, she comes to the house to groom Sam and saves us from a whole lot of stress
16. calendars with lots of room to write on, between all the drs appointments with me and hubby I appreciate it!
17. Books, they have been my best friends all my life.
18. Mother nature, she is awe-inspiring, even at her worst
19. smiles
20. hugs
21. art supplies
22. Extra Strength Tylenol
23. Coke Zero
24. laughter
25. a forest, no matter where, there is peace in them
26. oceans
27. tears, because it tells me I can still feel
28. soft toilet paper, believe me, as you age you will appreciate this more!
29. My sense of humor, goodness knows it has saved my butt many times
30. a good pair of glasses, just got my new ones, purple frames!
31. Watching people, they are an endless source of amusement
32. lasagna
33. sugar free candy
34. kind people
35. notebooks
36. art
37. a good joke
38. my mom
39. memories, good or bad,
40. great writers
41. good Chinese food
42. black jelly beans
43. my hearing, after losing it once, I never take it for granted
44. honesty
45. online games
46. heat, because dammit it’s cold!
47. Sharp knives, if you cook you know what I mean
48. herbs and spices
49. slippers
50. electric blankets
51. imagination
52. knowing someone loves you



Blogging · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · postaday · writing

The Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story Round 2

Thanks (I think) to Fishy over at FishofGold for once more tagging me in this awesome epic story! You guys are the best! You have made a few simple sentences that Fishy and I started in the beginning of the month to this fantastical, awesome, slightly weird story.

I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of bloggers to participate in this!

We have one more week to finish this story, so let’s get it done folks and be proud of our collaboration!

Since this thing is growing so huge, I’ve added my newest part on the bottom in blue.

Oh, and thanks Fishy for cleaning the links up! You are the greatest!

Here we go folks!


The Blog Hop Rules:

  1. Add a new post on your blog with these rules, the story so far, and who’s been tagged.
  2. Title and tag the post as Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story.
  3. Add at least two sentences to the story.
  4. Pick another Pepper to tag. (Preferably one who hasn’t already been tagged).
  5. Add a link to your chosen Pepper’s About page to the Tagged list below.

The Story:

Edward walked into the hotel lobby just as the sun began to light up the city. He dragged a large, heavy trunk to the reception desk and rang the bell.

As he waited for someone to answer the bell, he tried to calm his breathing and wiped his sweaty brow with his coat sleeve. He heard a soft thud fromy the trunk and jerked his head towards it. His eyes had just a touch of fear in them as he listened for any other sounds. He never meant for things to go this far.

When the concierge emerged for the door behind the registration desk Edward stood up straight and tug on the lapel of his coat and says, “Er.” The concierge huffs and says, “Yes, may I help you?” Edward clears his voice and stutters out, “Mr. Maddox told me to deliver this trunk here for him.” Before the concierge could respond Edward abruptly turns and quickly runs out the door.

“What the,” the concierge half-yelled as Edward cleared the door and ran down the street of still-waking businesses.

The concierge, Randy, was now more than a little put out. First, he had been interrupted while playing Candy Crush at the end of a dull night on the desk. Now, he was having to deal with miscreants leaving junk in the lobby. He hoped his boss didn’t walk in at that moment and chew him out for it.

Well, Randy thought, “I guess I can prop my feet up on this at the desk.” He slowly, but carefully as not to ruin the flooring, started to drag the trunk into the office.

As Randy dragged the Victorian-era trunk with brown leather-bound maple paneling and shiny brass studs nailed into the trim, he noticed that the weight wasn’t distributed evenly. Grunting when he tried to lift the heavy luggage over a snag in the office carpet, he finally maneuvered the large object into position. This would be perfect for resting his tired feet, so he plopped his posterior into the cushy high-backed chair and threw his feet up into the light side of the trunk.

Still bitter about his Candy Crush high score getting interrupted, he decided to pull up Plants vs. Zombies instead. Circulation returning to his legs, he vowed silently that no zombies would eat his brains tonight. He’s seen “Walking Dead.” They weren’t getting him or his sunflowers. Maybe it was thinking about zombies, perhaps it was thinking about how immobile he was if the zombie apocalypse hit, it could have even been the soup he made for dinner, but something didn’t sit well with him.

And then he heard and felt a thud coming from inside the trunk.

He whipped his feet off the trunk so fast, one of this shoes went flying across the room, knocking over a coffee cup. Dregs oozed out from between the cracks of his boss’s favourite mug.

“Damn it,” Randy exclaimed momentarily forgetting the sounds from inside the container. And then the screaming started.

The day clerk, Hank, had just entered the hotel lobby when he heard the screams coming from the office behind the reception desk. He ran fast as he could into the small office and saw Randy slumped in the cushy office chair, wide-eyed and breathing heavily, and wearing only one shoe. Randy’s face was ashen gray and he was literally shaking.

Hank saw the large, antique trunk, its lid open and some sort of thick liquid inside. “What the hell, Randy?” he asked. “What was all that screaming about? And what is that trunk doing here?”

Randy extended a shaky hand toward the open trunk and pointed. All he could say was “something.” He said it several times, his eyes filled with fear.

Hank looked carefully at the trunk and then walked slowly closer to it. That’s when he noticed rancid smell and a trail of dark liquid leading from the old trunk out of the office and into the hotel lobby.

At precisely the moment that Hank’s addled brain (which, franky, was a rather slow-moving machine in the smoothest of situations) caught up to the reality of what he was witnessing, the sounds of pandemonium crashed into the ears of both men. Screams seeped in under the doors. The metallic crunches and thuds of cars unwillingly having their shapes rearranged filtered through the lobby windows. Hank imagined that he heard bones snapping and blood dripping amidst the chaos, but certainly that wasn’t possible. Was it? Hank locked eyes with Randy, both faces reflecting terror to the other. What had been in the box? More importantly, would they be held responsible? Given his usual weasel-like demeanor, Hank made a brave decision: He would go have a peek at the street to get a better idea of what he had gotten himself into. Inhaling deeply for courage and balance, he shifted his foot to begin the short walk back to the lobby doors. And that’s when he noticed it he was standing directly in a puddle of the sticky fluid from the trunk, and it was working its way through every opening of his shoe.

All of a sudden, both of his feet started to burn like he had just finished walking on hot coals. He certainly was getting paid enough to deal with such crazy shenanigans. He should have been a lawyer, just like his mother wanted him to be.

A quick detour to the men’s room appeared to be in order, and whatever lurked outside the lobby doors would just have to wait. Leaving a trail of shoes and socks and rancid ooze behind him, Hank pushed through the washroom door, noticed that the cuffs of his pants were ruined and decided to drop those too.

He hopped up to the counter, turned the taps on full blast and plopped both of his burning feet under the gushing, cooling water. It immediately turned a sickly greenish purple. One of the cubicle doors opened and a stunned person stopped dead to take in the sight of a disheveled boxer-clad day clerk effectively occupying two of the sinks, decided against washing his hands just this once, and hurriedly scuttled sideways to the exit. Hank heard the door open, he heard the door close, and in between over the thudding of his own heart, he heard the muffled sound of chaos from the streets.

Outside the hotel, meanwhile, Detective Dick Richards swore loudly and then crammed into his mouth the last third of that cream-filled donut that had distracted him enough to slam into the school bus stopped in front of him, causing the city bus following too closely behind him to make an unmarked-car sammich.

All the school kiddies looked fine, but they were bellowing on the sidewalk outside the hotel, the same joint that he’d been casing undercover for weeks now, waiting for those clerk clowns Randy and Hank to take the trunk from that middle man Eddie. Cripers. Those clerks watched so much HBO they probably thought that trunk held zombies or vampires or something. Dick Richards wanted to clean up this mess outside so he could get back to his binoculars and watch for the next player in the game to show up.

Detective Richards was squirming out the passenger side window and was hanging upside down as Detective Sargent Beverly Hills approached his accordioned vehicle. Dick would know those gams anywhere. Bev had the best legs in the Department, although Andy Highwater on bicycle patrol came in second with his long, tanned….

“What the hell are you doing Detective Richards? You are required to stay put while the fire fighters use the “jaws of life” to remove you from this mess.”

“I’m fine, Bev.”

Dick lost his purchase on the car and dropped like a stone further out the window, slamming his head on the curb, effectively knocking himself out. Meanwhile, a HAZMAT Team showed up to contend with the dark ooze that trailed from the hotel. An uniformed officer ran over to Beverly and informed her that a dead man had been found in the men’s washroom of the hotel and he appeared to be one of the desk clerks. An EMT was tending to the revived Detective Richards, so the Detective Sargent followed the Officer into the hotel and to the washroom, relieved to leave the pandemonium outside. Beverly stopped in the washroom doorway, stunned by what she saw.

It was not possible, was it? Given her line of work, she had seen many corpses. But this one was different; this corpse was her ex-husband Hank. “Oh, Hank. What did you get yourself into?” she moaned softly to herself. Despite their divorce, she had no hard feelings toward Hank. He had always been a nice man. He was just sodim-witted. Ending up as a murder victim in a hotel bathroom was proof, as far as she was concerned, of his general ineptness.

The hardest part of this job was never knowing when you would meet a corpse you recognised.

Slim chance, but there was Hank, with his pale cheeks pressed up against the mirror. A noticeable crack in the glass, overshadowed only by the putrid stench ofwhat WAS that in the air?

Beverly began to step closer, instead turned away covering her face. A ringtone echoed, and she fumbled for her phone. As she accepted the call, she realised it was not her ringtone but, ‘Everyday I’m Shuffling’, Hank’s favourite song when they were still together.

She hesitated, ‘Hello?’

‘Hello Bevyou never read my poem’ – the call ended and a text came through.

Beverly sank to her knees frantically trying to open the text with her now trembling fingers, the officer wondering what this idiot woman was doing, tapped her shoulder. Beverly glanced at him and gestured to the phone, ‘It’s fromhim’, she mumbled – pointing at the corpse of her ex, ‘I can’t read it, we must read it!’

The officer – being a gentleman – read:

‘You held me with my fears
With a gaze of distant years
Your face reflected in the glass
I breathed in, the scent of arsine
You tried to help me stand,
Then I saw within your hand
Your axe about to thwack
The mirror will expose your crack.’

Heads down, engrossed in the text, they almost didn’t see the dark reflection in the mirror. They looked up just in time to dodge the large axe that seemed to be heading straight towards them. When they turned around, the black cloaked figure was rushing out of the restroom, laughing maniacally saying “objects in the mirror are closer than they appear”. Bev and the officer looked at one another quizzically, was it a clue? What seemed most odd to Bev was the voice of the cloaked man. It sounded just like Hank, but how could that be when she was looking at Hank’s dead body, laid out on the bathroom counter before her? It was becoming clear that this wasn’t a normal murder scene and they were dealing with a lot more than contaminated ooze.

Bev’s face felt cool like a slither of ice had been brushed across it, crimson fingertips rose to wipe away a slick of almost slimy sweat from her brow as the other grasped the mobile. Legs weak, trembled like a baby doe as she attempted to rise not initially noticing the officer’s thick hairy topped hands that went to aid her. His greedy digits apparently needed to slide under one ass cheek, stealing a squeeze before hoisting up as the other paw wrapped around her slender upper arm brushing rather too keenly against freshly starched cotton covered breast.

Though Bev was in shock, she detested this Officer, his actions causing a reaction akin to touching an electric wire as delicate hands rose with purpose, palms flat slamming in to his portly chest, pushing with determination and anger. Neat little heals slipped amongst the acrid slime on the floor as shrill voice shouted “Get your grubby hands OFF me Officer you dirty DOG!” as whhooooooosh, feet went out from underneath the enraged patron of order.

Slender body crumpled and bent like a piece of old parchment as limbs flailed in attempt to block the obvious conclusion of her action. The accused Officer did as instructed, moving away, only to see the saucy morsel crash to the floor, raven locks billowing over slippery floor as a ‘CRACK’ of skulls echoed over the tiled floor.

“OH BOLLOCKS” could be heard loudly from the restroom. “SHE’S DEAD THE SILLY BITCH” followed with a tone of indignance at the inconvenience of it all. He crouched down just to double check, muttering “what a waste.” Thick set knuckles tugged the mobile from her grasp, standing to stretch as leisurely as a rise from a good nights slumber, cracking a few joints before proceeding to leave.

“FORENSICS” he bellowed, doing a quick dart back of body avoiding being face slammed by the opening bathroom door as a group of officials rushed in. “WATCH THE FLOOR” he yelled, tucking the mobile in to his trouser pocket, leaving and murmuring “you know what to do”.

Heavy footsteps slowed a moment as a “buzz buzz” was felt against his hip. The phone gyrated like a limber pilates teacher as sweaty fingers lifted it out, swiping to open the message “I am watching you, you filthy pig faced man, don’t ever touch my ass again!”

The Officers mouth resembled a breath starved goldfish momentarily as he turned, retreating to pop his head back in the restroom.

“She is dead isn’t she?” he asked the gang of forensics.

“Oh yes man, head split open like a melon” one geeky spotty male answered.

A sigh of relief escaped stubble ridden lips as he turned to leave feeling a slither of cold, as cold as ice pass his face.

Blinking repeatedly, a form appeared, floating before his eyes; it was Bev as if made of glass, or water, shimmering almost ethereal like, turning and advancing towards him. He glanced entranced by the pure beauty of what was before him, oblivious as she opened her mouth as if to scream. A sound not heard by others catapulted through his brain, as if splitting it in two, eyes burning and bulging as hands pushed either side of his head as if to hold it together.

Time slowed, everyone slowed, sounds of voices became blurred, movements merged one in to the other as the silhouette of glassy form left.

“This is officially the worst migraine,” thought the officer.

He looked in the mirror in order to fix his hat. It felt tighter than usual. Funny things happened to him whenever the migraines made their presence known.

As he adjusted his hat, he caught a glimpse of Bev’s silouette in the mirror. By the time he saw the hammer in Bev’s hand, it was too late. He was right though. This was the worst migraine the officer would ever have.

Hours later, Detective Dick Richards knelt just outside the restroom door and put a hand over his nose to try to stifle the thick stench of blood emanating from the room. Now there were five bodies in the restroom, and a trail of bloody foot prints leading down the hall, into the lobby, and out to the street.

Richards took out his cell phone and dialed an old, familiar number. It only had three digits. All of them were the same.

“Yesssssss?” a voice hissed on the other end of the line.

“The plan’s been foiled again. The contents of the trunk are… missing. At least five people are dead. Five good people.”

“And you think I care about thisssssss?”

“No, of course not. But it’s my job to keep you informed. What’s my next move, boss?”

“Since the contents of the trunk have been misplaced, His Excellence will not be pleassssssed.”

“Clearly.” Detective Richards fidgeted, wondering what exactly His Excellence would come up with as punishment this time. Another trip into The Pit? Richards shuddered to think of the time he accidentally misplaced the twelve virgins to be ritually sacrificed.

“Don’t worry, Richardsssss. The Great and Powerful Cortoogoo has wonderful plans for you. Now, it is time to move on to the next step. You must acquire The Key.”

Tiffany Van Helsing, Demon Hunter, hated early mornings with all her heart. She especially hated really early mornings. She also hated cold weather and field work a whole lot and when all three combined as they had this morning, it was extra-special annoying.

She supposed it was all part of paying her dues as the youngest member of the infamous clan of Van Helsings, who had been running a wildly successful Supernatural Critter Disposal company for the past 100 plus years, since Old Gramps Van Helsing first took a cross to Count Dracula in the 1890s. It still wasn’t fair, though. Her older sister, Morgana, not only got the the Van Helsing raven curls, height and slender but super-humanly strong build, but she got all the plum assignments too, tracking only the highest-level VIP demons in their swanky jet-set, private club and Monte Carlo yacht environment. Tiffany got five feet of ordinariness, mousy hair, a tendency to put on a few extra that time of the month, and all the crappy jobs. Oh yeah, and she inherited Grandma’s ability to see ghosts. Big whoop.

She had brushed past five spirits already as she gingerly picked her way through the fragile dawn light over the loose branches and slippery leaves of the deserted forest. Damn it, she hated the 5-inch heel over-the-knee platform boots she had to wear on hunting expeditions too. “I mean really,” she bitched to herself for the umpteenth time, “who the hell tracks demons in a boots and a leather mini skirt when it’s 40 degrees outside?” She’d been pushing to update the mandatory uniform for years, but Morgana loved it, and Morgana always got her way. What she would give for some tennies and warm fleecy sweatpants. “Oh well,” she sighed, absent-mindedly tugging the skirt leather over her exposed butt cheek. “Once I corner this evil detective, stop him from opening a portal from the underworld and releasing hellspawn on the unsuspecting populace, I should have time for a Pumpkin Spice Latte from that new Starbucks across from the office.”

She reached the top of the hill, and crouched suddenly, cursing under her breath as her stiletto heel snapped a twig in the chilly silence. She could see her target, Detective Dick Richards, below her in the faint light, all dolled up in the Standard Issue Robe and Pointy Hood, etching a pentagram in the loose dirt of the hollow. He had already set out a bunch of candles and she could smell the stench of burning incense. Looked like a basic Key Invocation to her; shouldn’t take long to wrap this up. Then she could get on to some warm pumpkin-spiked goodness and much more comfy shoes.

Tiffany was so taken by the thought of it, she could almost smell the intoxicating combination of cinnamon, nutmeg, clove and corn syrup in the air. “Soon enough,” she thought.

Upon completion, Detective Richards rose and began to walk the perimeter of the pentagram. Once. He still couldn’t shake the stench of the hotel bathroom. Twice. The blood. The weird black slime in the sink. Beverly. Poor Beverly. He’s always liked her. Why did she have to get all caught up in this? It was almost enough to make him turn in his black robe, for good. “Damn it!” He’d lost count again. It had to be perfect, or it wouldn’t work. He fell to his knees, quickly erasing the pentagram in the dirt with his hands.

Tiffany, seeing her golden opportunity, agilely leapt to her feet. She took a solid step backward for momentum, a little too solid. Her right stiletto pierced the ground, lodging itself firmly in the mud. Tiffany didn’t hear the leaves crunching behind her as she struggled to free her boot. It came loose all at once with a jolt. She spun, struggling to regain her balance, and found herself nose to nose with Edward and the unmistakable smell of cinnamon. “It’s your favorite,” he said coyly.

The psychiatrist looked at the strange child before him. He had been referred by the school guidance counselor. Several dolls lay in disarray with a tiny trunk at the side. Blood, blood, blood he said. Was this possession? That was the last thought before he was thumped on the head by a toy hammer and bludgeoned to death.

“He was odd from the moment he was born,” his tearful mother blurted out. “I knew the whole time I was pregnant that he wasn’t gonna turn out right.”

“I watched for all those warning signs I see on Dr. Phil but nothing ever happened. One night, I woke up to check on him and he was standing over my bed whispering. When I tried ushering him back to his bed, he said he only took orders from the shadows.”

“I slept with my door locked that night.”

My left temple was on fire and I knew I should have turned my phone to silent. This was going to be one long-ass day and the flask in my pocket was bone dry. I put on my badge and checked my holster.

First things first. I refilled my flask using the larger bottle of Jim Beam tucked away in my bottom desk drawer. After stashing the flask deep into the pocket of my coat, I left the office for the parking lot where I climbed into my rusty 1997 Honda Sedan. The short distance was covered quickly and soon I pulled up in front of the small house on Maple Lane where a good man had been brutally murdered. Even from the outside, there was a stillness. A sense of dread. Nothing good could come of this visit. I took a swig from the flask and reluctantly left the car to walk the front steps and ring the doorbell.

Tiffany looked at Edward blankly for a minute as he stood there with her Grande Pumpkin Spice Latte. “What are you doing here Edward?  I’m busy following that warlock you see over there etching his pentagram in the dust and I don’t have time for a latte.”

” Cool!” snorted Edward, ” Can I watch?”

Just then they both heard a rustling sound and looked toward the place where Dick Richards had been busy with his pentagram. But Dick wasn’t there. He was standing right in front of them glaring with glowing red eyes. He made a growling noise. Were those fangs bulging out of his slobbery lips?

This is getting pretty freaky , Edward thought, just before Dick sunk his teeth into his neck.

It was all over in an instant and Edward slumped to the ground in a heap taking Tiffany’s Grande Pumpkin Spice Latte with him.  Dick slowly turned towards Tiffany smiling wickedly as blood dripped down his chin.  Some of the spiced coffee had splashed onto his robe.  The spots smoked as if the spices were burning holes into him.  Dick tried to smooth over the burning holes with his hands.

“Damn it Tiffany,” Dick said.  “Why did you bring that idiot with you?”  “He burned holes in my robe with that spiced coffee.”  “What the hell?”

Tiffany just stood there looking ravishing in her 5-inch heel over-the-knee platform boots staring at Dick like she had never seen him before.

“Dick, why did you have to kill Edward”, she asked.  “I thought you had better ways of taking care of your urges than this,” she said angrily.

Tiffany stood over Edward’s body.  She could see the two perfect holes in his neck where Dick had feasted.  His body was limp and his skin white from the blood letting.

But worse than that, she was out of coffee.  And it was this stupid Dicks fault.  She clenched her fist behind her back and then in one fluid motion decked the unsuspecting Dick Richards with a powerful right hook to his left jaw.  He was down and out long enough for Tiffany to turn on her pointy heels and rummage through her Gucci bag for her phone.  She quickly punched in a search for “Disposing of Warlocks and Vampires”. Then she added “portal keys” to that.  What came up was a confusing list of possibilities.  Green smoke, black magic, curse of doom, gates of hell.   All of it was giving her a colossal headache, but Richards was beginning to stir and she had to do something fast.  She dropped her bag and her Starbucks gift card fluttered to the ground at her feet.  Caffeine!  Yes, that was the solution!  She stooped to pick the card up with a happy smile.  Then her face hit the dirt.

When Tiffany came to, she was impossibly tied to a tree. She was both impressed and annoyed that whoever tied her up did a professional job of it and left no wiggle room. Properly typing people to trees is surprisingly tricky business and you have to give props to anyone who can do it well.

She was confused as to how Dick had gotten to her so quickly, since she was fairly certain that he was still on the ground when she was hit from behind. Either Dick’s wizardry was more powerful than she gave the lackey credit for or he must have a partner. Tiffany guessed the latter.

She looked around, but she could only see Dick some yards away in his Standard Issue Robe and Pointy Hood walking in a large circle around the pentagram. Even if she was not a demon hunter who knew what circles and pointy hats meant, she probably could have figured out that something not good was happening here, since the pentagram was glowing faintly purple. Nothing good has ever come of a glowing purple pentagram.

As carefully as his distracted brain would allow, Dick counted the number of revolutions around the circle. It had to be perfect or the invocation would have unintended consequences. He was coming to the last part of the ritual now–the summoning. He took a deep breath before he spoke the Latin incantation designed to open the gate.

“Hexagramma et Pentagramma, Malos Spiritus Sigillent! Lagena Signatoria!”

Stepping back as the purple pentagram began to turn into purple flames, Dick  watched in fascination as an ominous figure shimmered in front of his eyes. Demonic eyes glowed red through the shadows as a deep voice that hadn’t been heard by human ears in eons spoke.

“About damn time you puny human! I have waited too long for this moment!”

Tiffany mumbled under her breath, “Oh shit!”

Just as the demon made a move to leave the pentagram there was a bright flash of light and before them  a large emerald-green bottle appeared. It rotated slowly in front of the demon. 

“What have you done human?!! Can you do nothing right?”

Before the demon could invoke its powerful anger at Dick, the bottle opened and sucked in the demon! It corked itself and then with a loud pop, disappeared!

Dick stood in frozen amazement. His pointy hat slid off his head to the ground and landed with a soft thud. Dick heard Tiffany laughing behind him and spun around. 

“You idiot! You not only did the invocation for the demon, you did the invocation to summon the demon sealing bottle!”

“Huh?” Dick looked like he was going to cry. He fumbled in his robes for his ever-present flask of whiskey.

“Untie me, you bumbling fool! We need to figure things out, cus there is going to be a  shitload of ‘splaining to do!”

Now to continue this continuation, I am going to volunteer my friend Not A Punk Rocker! I know you can do it kiddo! Please?


Fish of Gold
To Breathe Is To Write
Silently Heard Once
Not A Punk Rocker
Amusing Nonsense
Inspiration In Progress
Mindful Digressions
Nerd in the Brain
Knocked Over By a Feather
Breathing Space
Mark Bialczak
Lucy at the Excessive Gardner
Debra at Booking It
Idiot Writer at Idiot Writing
Storm Chaser At Parenting A Teenage Tornado
Eclectic Odds And Sods
Destino at Chasing Destino
Cheney at Blog Apocolypse
Drunk On Life
Love Marriage Worms
food for fun
Notes Tied On The Sagebrush
Silver Threading
Breathing Space
Fish of Gold

To Breath is to Write

Blogging · Humor · Mi Vida Loca · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction · postaday

My Love of Coffee

Hello people! Hope your weekend was super special. Getting ready for the holiday season? Or are you dreading it?

Regular readers and people who know me, know I love coffee. I do. I have had a love affair with coffee since my late 20’s. I never could stand the taste of coffee till then. Strange as it seems. My mom and dad always had coffee in the morning. I loved the smell of it. Divine! But the taste? Ugh, tasted like I always thought  dirt would taste.

Now? Oh wow, I love the smell, the taste, it’s all good in my book! I sometimes drink coffee all day long. It never makes me jittery like it does some people. It wakes me up in the morning and relaxes me at night. Yeah, I love me some coffee.

Piping hot, steam rising above my favorite cup. Just a dash of milk, no sugar. Total brown heaven. I also like my coffee on the strong side. Don’t give me any of that weak, watery stuff! I want it strong, I want it hot, and I want it every day.

So today I thought I would post all things coffee.  Sit back with a good hot cup of joe and enjoy!


Coffee makers

Now first off we need a good coffee maker. How about one of the most expensive ones for the home? You like bling? I got bling for you!


It’s adorned with 3,100 of Swarovski crystals. For a measly $4000 this could be yours or mine!



How about the world’s most expensive coffee? I’m not saying it’s the best, just the most expensive. I don’t think I have stumbled upon the ‘best’ yet. Also, my best cup of coffee won’t be yours. We all have different tastes and that includes coffee. I will keep seeking for that perfect cup of coffee though. Someone has to do it.

A serving of Black Ivory Coffee at the five-star Anantara Golden Triangle hotel in Chiang Rai, Thailand. Michael Sullivan/NPR
A serving of Black Ivory Coffee at the five-star Anantara Golden Triangle hotel in Chiang Rai, Thailand.
Michael Sullivan/NPR

The world’s most expensive coffee is now being produced in Thailand’s Golden Triangle. I’m not sure I would drink it. But hey, to each their own. Black Ivory Coffee is made by passing coffee beans through the not insubstantial stomachs of elephants and then picking the beans out of, well to put it bluntly, the crap. I laughed too when I read that it was developed by a Canadian. You can read all about it here.

It’s similar to Kopi Luwak, the civet coffee that was all the rage a few years back; Dinkin (the entrepreneur) has just supersized the idea.


Coffee Mugs

Now I like a coffee mug with a sense of humor. But, I also like beautiful coffee mugs. I have a whole shelf of different ones. Just depends on my mood that morning. 😉

Now this one I could use some mornings for sure!

Coffee Ads

chase sanborn ad




Coffee Quotes

I made this one my Facebook Header
I made this one my Facebook Header

love-coffee-quotes-friend-friendship-picture-pic-sayings rottenecards_3640512_kg64cmmn9q i-dont-exercise-it-makes-my-coffee-spill

Blogging · Mi Vida Loca · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction · postaday

Why Do I Blog?



Last night my husband and I had a visit from his brother and his wife. Now I haven’t seen them for about 4 years. We used to see them quite a lot, but then something happened and the SIL (sister-in-law) got miffed and they stopped visiting and calling.

No big deal to me. Now that my husband is disabled and severely limited in what he can do, we’ve noticed an upswing is sibling visits. I guess they figure he might die any day, so they want to be able to say they saw him before he died.

It’s sad to me, that it took a health crisis for his siblings to come see him. Now I know, some of you will say the road goes both ways, and you would be right. It does. My husband was never one for visiting, especially when all his siblings lived out-of-town. The reasons we didn’t visit are varied, so I won’t bore you with that.

The main reason for this post is my SIL and I were talking and she asked me what I was doing with myself these days. I told her, taking care of the husband, and blogging.

Her reaction? “What’s that?”

Now how do you describe blogging to a non-blogger, or one who is only on the internet to play games on Facebook? I don’t know how any of you do it, but I gave her this description.

Blogging is like an online journal. It’s where you write stories, fiction or non-fiction. You write about whatever comes to mind. You write about what you want to write about. Or post photos, or a rant, or just write to write.

Her reaction? “Why?!!”

That gave me pause. Why indeed? Why do I blog? Why do any of us blog? To see our words out there and appreciated is one, I mean, who doesn’t enjoy others reading what they write and hitting that ‘like’ button. I know it still gives me a bit of a thrill, even after more than two years of blogging. I love it when you guys hit ‘like’, or even better leave a comment!

But, how do you get that across to a non-blogging, non-writer?

So many thoughts rushed through my mind. Thankfully, before I could try to explain, she went on to some other subject. That’s one nice thing about having a conversation between an introvert (myself) and an extrovert (SIL), pause a few seconds and she’s talking about something else.

Don’t get me wrong, I like all my in-laws, they are for the most part good people. They have busy lives with kids and grandkids, jobs, etc. We had busy lives too, my husband worked shift work, so every week was different. Now that he is disabled and almost bedridden, the dynamics have changed. Between him and me and between him and his siblings. It happens.

The question of why do I blog still lingered in the back of my mind this morning as I drank my first cup of coffee. I’m still not sure if I could explain to my SIL the pleasure I get from doing it. From writing my blog posts, to visiting, commenting, liking and the interaction between me and my blogging friends.

The short answer I could have given her was, it gives me great satisfaction and pleasure. The long answer would be this rambling post that I just wrote. 🙂


Yes I am!
Yes I am!

Why do YOU blog? How would you have answered my SIL?




Blog challenge · Humor · Mi Vida Loca · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction · postaday

Truth or Fiction ~~~ The Answers

Earlier this week I did a post called Truth or Fiction ~~ Done My Way. I wrote 15 things about myself that could be Truth or Fiction. You, my dear readers, were to answer them with T or F and now today we will see how many you got right!

So let’s go see how many things were true about my life and how many things I just outright lied about.



1. At one time, I raised dogs and I owned 14 dogs all at the same time. Five of these dogs lived in the house with me.

TRUE……. Yes, I used to raise German Shepherds in Texas. At one time I had a female that gave birth to puppies. I had 2 full-grown Shepherds living with me, plus a Springer Spaniel, poodle/spaniel mix, and a Pekingese in the house with me. They were my babies.

2. I met a serial killer face to face and lived to see another day. 

TRUE…...When I lived in Texas I came face to face with a serial killer at his father’s business. His name was Ricky Lee Green. The man wouldn’t stop staring at me the whole time I was there. It gave me the major creeps and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

3. I’ve been married 4 times.

FALSE…...I’ve only been married twice. Two times too many. LOL

4. I have a ghost that lives with me and has for many years.

TRUE…...His name is Abe. I’ve written about him on here a few times.

5. I’m allergic to feathers.

TRUE…… Strangely enough, I am allergic to feathers. I can’t have a down comforter, or wear a winter coat with down feathers in them. It literally stops my breathing. I can’t have pillows stuffed with feathers either. Can you even buy them anymore?

6. I‘m a very tall woman. Six feet in my stocking feet.

FALSE…...I’m actually pretty short. Five feet even.

7. I don’t own a skirt or dress and haven’t for years. I also don’t own any shoes with heels.

TRUE……I have always hated wearing skirts or dresses. I’m a tomboy through and through. So no, I don’t own any skirts or dresses. Haven’t since I quit working outside the home years ago. I also don’t own any shoes with heels. I used to when I was younger, but not any longer as I like being comfy.

8. I love wearing socks.

FALSE…….I hate socks. I should rephrase that, I hate wearing socks. I don’t hate socks themselves, I mean socks never did anything to me. I live in cold Canada, I come from cold Wisconsin and I hate wearing socks. Go figure that one out folks. I actually wore a pair last week, a good friend sent me 3 pairs of bright, neon socks. I wore a pair to the doctor’s office the other day. They made me smile. But…..I took them off again as soon as I got home. LOL

Just cus I thought it was cute! I mean, puppy!
Just cus I thought it was cute! I mean, puppy!

9. I am deaf in one ear.

TRUE…….I am deaf in the right ear. At the age of 16 I was almost deaf in both ears. At the age of 20, I had an operation on one ear and it fixed my hearing. I never got the other ear done as I kept moving so often that I never had insurance to cover the cost of it. People don’t know I am deaf in one ear unless I tell them. I am excellent in reading lips and my good ear more than makes up for the other. Unless you are behind me on my right and try talking to me, then I won’t hear you, usually.

10. I’m color blind.

FALSE…...just an outright lie. LOL

11. I got my first driving license when I was 21 and living in Mississippi.

TRUE…….I took driver’s Ed in high school, just like my sister did. My sister was able to get her license AND a car. I couldn’t get my license because my mom didn’t think I needed it. So, that was the end of that. When I moved away from home to Mississippi when I was 21, I paid for lessons and passed my drivers test and got my first license. I never used it though, as the guy I was living with was a dick and refused to let me drive his car. Needless to say that relationship only lasted 6 months. He was a dick in many other ways.

12. I’m an only child.

FALSE…..I’ve written about my siblings before. Some I like, others not so much. But, I am the second youngest of four.

13. Now for famous number 13, I’m going to ask you to guess my age! Go ahead, you won’t hurt my feelings, I promise! Take a shot. I’ll let you know if what you guessed, is Truth or Fiction.

I had fun with this one! Most didn’t even want to hazard a guess, others, well just lets say their guesses made me smile. I’ll take that I am younger than all of you! Hehehe. Which I’m not of course, unless you count how I feel mentally. That totally counts, right?

14. I used to work with an ex fashion model. 

TRUE……I did indeed work at one time with an ex fashion model. She was tall, blonde and gorgeous. When I lived in Texas I worked with Angie in an Antique Mall. When she was a teenager, she did some modeling. She could have done it when she got older too, but she got bored with it. She was a beautiful woman inside and out. We became best friends and when we would go somewhere she literally made heads turn. I used to laugh, because there she was almost 6 foot tall, beautiful and blonde hair piled high on her head, and me, short and well, plain. But she always made me feel good about myself.

15. I once owned a one-legged parakeet who was an alcoholic.

TRUE!…….well it was the family pet when I was younger. He got so old that he lost a leg, never stopped him though. He lived in a cage in the kitchen. He caught a cold one time and my mother gave him a few drops of whisky in his water. The bird loved that stuff! He drank it, then he would twirl from his perch on his one leg and sing up a storm. We had to give him a few drops of whisky in his water dish every day after that. He also used to spit his seeds at us when we ate chicken for supper. LOL Only with chicken would he do that. He lived to be like 15 years old. I think he was just pickled. LOL


So there you are, people! How many did you get right? That was fun! I might have to do it again one day.

Blog challenge · Mi Vida Loca · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction · postaday · Stories of my life

Road Trip to Hell

This is going to be a story from my past. It’s a true story, about a nightmare trip I took with my ex husband and his parents. Now, for the most part I liked my in-laws. They were good people in many ways. In some ways, not so good. Let me start at the beginning…………


I had been married to my ex for about 6 or 7 years by now. I was truly under his control, all though no one thought so at the time, especially me. Foolish me. Anyway, his parents had heard me talk about Wisconsin and how beautiful it was in the fall, with the leaves changing. My ex and his parents were from Texas. They had never been to Wisconsin before, so they got it in their heads that they wanted to go. They also wanted my ex and I to go with them.

A road trip! With my in-laws and my ex. A 2400 mile, round trip, road trip. In a smallish car. With my ex and his parents. Shudder…...Still gives me nightmares.

Like I said, they wanted to see the colors of upper Wisconsin in September. September is also my birthday month. So they thought they would give me a grand birthday present and we would all go to Wisconsin, rent a cabin in the woods on a lake and enjoy a full week of relaxation and beautiful colors. I hadn’t been home in about 8 years, so I would also get to see my sister and my parents, as the cabin we were renting was not far from where they lived. I was happy!

It started out great. We got an early start and the weather was wonderful. So off we went! The first day was good. We drove with a few bathroom breaks and a lunch break. As soon as it started to get dark my in-laws insisted we find a motel. They hated traveling in the dark. No problem. We found a nice, clean, cheap motel and rented rooms for the night. We had dinner at the attached, fast food joint. It was a Hardee’s, remember that folks, as it comes into play during my story.

The next morning, nice and early, we get gas and are on the road again, after breakfast of course. At Hardee’s. I had a nice strong cup of coffee, I was good to go.

We travel a few hours, all was pleasant. Then my father-in-law (FIL) got into an argument with my ex. My ex was driving. My FIL thought he was driving too fast. They argued. Now let me clarify one thing. My FIL was a very argumentative man. He was a good man in many ways, but he would argue about just about anything.  You could say the sun was yellow and hot, he would argue that it was more beige and that it was not just hot, it was hellish hot. Then he would go off on a tangent.

So for an hour or more they argued, with voices getting louder, language getting saltier. And neither one wanted to back down. The argument went off as they usually did with my FIL to other things. My mother-in-law (MIL) trying to calm the waters, I am just trying to tune it all out. And it’s not working.

Finally, it’s lunch time and my FIL demanded that my ex find someplace to eat. We were on the highway, in the middle of nowhere it seemed. Finally, my FIL spots a sign saying there was a turnoff coming up with restaurants. So he yells at the ex to turn off so he could get fed. My FIL was one that had to be fed 3 times a day. He hated to miss a meal and became quite irritated if he did. He told my ex to stop at Hardee’s.

So this went on for several days. My ex and his dad would take turns driving. Sometimes we would stop off and see the sights, most times we only stopped to eat or go to the bathroom. My FIL believed a holiday was only a good one if you put in as many miles as you could every day.

They drove, argued and we stopped at Hardee’s to eat. Every. Single. Day.

Ugh, Never again!
Ugh, Never again!

Finally we reach our destination of Upper Wisconsin. It’s gorgeous. Wisconsin truly put on her best colors for us that September. It was close to my birthday (the 12th) and the weather, though cool was sunny and beautiful. We empty out the car and explore our cabin. It’s great, has two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen, the bathroom was small but usable. I thought as far as cabins go, it was really nice for the price. It sat close to a beautiful lake and we even had a boat to use if we wanted to.

Now, remember I said we were suppose to stay a week? Yes, we were, and we were suppose to meet my parents so I could introduce them to my in-laws. Now my parents are laid back people who like their beer now and again. Nothing wrong with that. The bars up in Wisconsin are pretty family friendly. I didn’t think nothing of meeting my parents in a bar. I practically grew up in one.

My in-laws were not tea totallers by any means, so again I thought nothing of meeting my parents in the bar. Neutral territory I figured. All good. Right? Um, no, apparently not.

The in-laws knew days before that, that we would be going to a bar to meet my parents, they never said a word. Till the time we drove up to the bar and my in-laws refused to get out of the car. Their reason? They didn’t go to bars. They didn’t think it was ‘respectable’ to meet my parents there. So nope, they weren’t going in. I was dumbfounded! Why didn’t they say something before this? So I was determined to see my parents. I hadn’t seen them in a lot of years. I was looking forward to seeing them again.

So my ex and I went inside, the in-laws went for a drive and said they would be back in an hour to pick us up. I was so upset. An hour? After years of being away??

There  had been enough fighting and screaming and crap during the drive up, I wasn’t going to add to it, so I let it go. I had a great visit with my parents, in the bar. After an hour we hear a car horn outside. Yup, there are my in-laws beeping the horn for us. I tried to explain to my parents the reasoning of my in-laws not coming in to meet them. It didn’t go over very well, all though my parents didn’t say anything directly to me.

We go out and I’m pissed off. Majorly pissed off. I get in the car and hardly say a word. We go for a country drive. Find a place to eat dinner, as my FIL is run by his stomach. At least there was no Hardee’s in sight. To this day I can’t stand to eat at Hardee’s.

I get over my mad, sort of, and we have a nice day driving around and taking tons of pictures of the wonderful fall colors. All is good, or so I thought.

We get to the cabin and settle in for the night. No hurry, I thought, we got all week. The in-laws can meet the parents later that week. I was going to invite them to the cabin, maybe even cook dinner for them. No bars, just a nice evening together. We all go to bed early, as it had been a long day.

The next morning I am woken up by voices in the kitchen. My ex and his parents are all ready up and drinking coffee at the kitchen table. I decide to lay there for a bit, enjoying having the bed to myself, and listen to what they are planning for the day. The next thing I hear is my name. It’s my MIL.

“I know Jackie was planning on staying all week here. She can still stay, we’ll give her bus money to come home.”

What??!!! Bus money?? To go home by myself on the bus???

My ex, of course, wasn’t about to let me stay here by myself. I might decide NOT to go home to Texas again, he couldn’t have that.

“I’m not leaving my wife here by herself. We rented the cabin for a week, why not stay the week? We’ve only been here 2 days.”

My FIL piped in.

“We don’t want to stay all week son, we could be on the road, getting the miles in and seeing the sights!”

My ex:

“Then why did you plan on staying a week if you weren’t going to stay?”

FIL: “We have a right to change our minds! We aren’t going in some damn bar to meet those people!”

MIL: “Just let her stay here son, she can get home on her own.”

The ex: “NO! She is NOT staying here on her own. I’ll stay with her then we’ll catch a plane back home.”

By then I was so angry I was seeing red. How dare they! Wait a minute….they are who they are, of course they would do something crappy like this. I get up, put on my robe, making noise so they hear me and go out to see if they would say something to my face.

Nope, they don’t. They are all ‘good morning’ and smiles. I wait, I get my coffee, sit down and wait. Nothing. Crickets could have been heard.

To make a very long story shorter. They left the cabin, my ex told me what was going on. We fight. I was going to stay there, to hell with them. In the back of my mind, I figured, if they leave me there, I wouldn’t go back. The ex wouldn’t have it. Either we both stayed, or we both left with his parents. The in-laws came back and put their 2 cents in. Between the in-laws and my ex, they beat me down enough emotionally that I just gave up and gave in. We packed the car that day and left. I didn’t even get to explain to my parents why.

One thing they did do, which they did promise to do, is we stopped in Milwaukee so I could visit my favorite Aunt for a few hours. They of course didn’t come in, my ex came with me. We had a great few hours together, then there were my in-laws beeping their damn car horn again.

We went the long way home, unfortunately. My ex and FIL arguing all the way back, me stewing in the back seat, my MIL trying to please everyone. It was the most gruelling, nerve-wracking road trip I ever was on. I never repeated it. And apparently  never got over it.


Blogging · Humor · Mi Vida Loca · NaBloPoMo · Nano Poblano · nonfiction

Truth or Fiction ~~ Done My Way

Hello people! I hope today is going all right for everyone.

Today I’m doing a version of the kind of posts that were going around this past summer. That’s where the blogger posts a bunch of things about themselves and they are true, except one lie that was snuck in there. I know, I’m late in these kind of things, but I always had other things to write about. Now I’m going to do my version of Truth or Fiction.

I will make statements about myself and YOU, as my guests can tell me if these statements are Truth or Fiction. Or T and F for short. In a few days I will do another post and let you know which were T and which statements were F.

So join my silly little game and let’s have some fun!


Truth or Fiction?

1. At one time, I raised dogs and I owned 14 dogs all at the same time. Five of these dogs lived in the house with me.



2. I met a serial killer face to face and lived to see another day.

3. I’ve been married 4 times.

4. I have a ghost that lives with me and has for many years.


5. I’m allergic to feathers.

6. I‘m a very tall woman. Six feet in my stocking feet.

7. I don’t own a skirt or dress and haven’t for years. I also don’t own any shoes with heels.

8. I love wearing socks.


9. I am deaf in one ear.

10. I’m color blind.

11. I got my first driving license when I was 21 and living in Mississippi.

12. I’m an only child.

13. Now for famous number 13, I’m going to ask you to guess my age! Go ahead, you won’t hurt my feelings, I promise! Take a shot. I’ll let you know if what you guessed, is Truth or Fiction.

14. I used to work with an ex fashion model.

15. I once owned a one-legged parakeet who was an alcoholic.

Truth or Fiction?
Truth or Fiction?

There you have it folks. Fifteen things about me that might be true, or they might not be! Take a guess in the comment section! Have fun! Maybe you can even add to the list! What would you say about ME?