Consider yourself warned. . .

I consider myself safe for the most part. I practice safety precautions when necessary. I wash my hands, wear my seat belt, and never ever swim in the ocean at night. I realized today, however, that I am putting myself in great danger of spontaneous combustion roughly twice a week. Each time I pump gas, chances are I will ignite into flames upon pressing the nozzle. Maybe God is watching out for me, maybe its just luck. For whatever reason, I'm glad to say I am walking and talking with no evidence of severe burns to be found on my being, except for the scar on my arm where some drunk jack a$$ carelessly let his cigarette rest on my arm in line at the fair, searing the skin before either one of us realized it.

While pumping gas, I began reading the warnings I always read. "We prosecute drive offs", "Turn cell phone and electronic devices off before pumping", "Apply for credit today and receive free gas for a year", etc., etc. Then, I stumbled upon a warning I have never noticed before. But there it was, written as plain as day. And having read it, I will now be the freak obsessively fondling metal prior to filling 'er up at the local Jet Pep. And you may no longer blame me if you spontaneously combust while pumping gas. Consider yourself warned. . .and chill out with the fabric softener.

Heaven's to Etsy, I like it!

So is born a new segment to the variety show blog, "Heaven's to Etsy, I like it!" There are sooo many amazingly talented artists on Etsy. But every once in a while, you stumble upon a product so incredible and different from the hand made clothing and accessories, art pieces, and one of kind gadgets and gizmos. And sometimes, when you find such an item, instead of exclaiming "What the etsy?!", you say, "Heavens to Etsy, I LIKE it!" Well, you may not say that, but for some reason I do. And I realize its a little odd. But these words rolled off my tongue like spanish from the mouth of Dora (Took me waay too long to come up with that analogy).

Now, I enjoy a good craft show, hence my fondnes of Etsy. There are certain boothes that I pass by, knowing that I will never purchase a painted gourd, a stone with a quote about sisters (ok, I did that one time, but it was back in the 80's and my sis still has it), or a teddy bear decked out in lace! That's why, when I clicked on the thumbnail for an image of a gourd, thinking it would be good for What the Etsy, I was shocked and amazed at the beautiful hand crafted lampshade made from a gourd! Check out Studio Tempera to see what I'm talking about. You'll covet one for your decor as well. . .Heaven's to Etsy, I just know it!

Blogger Brain

I've had pregnancy brain. I've had 'one too many' brain (not at the same time as pregnancy brain mind you). I've had mind numbing 4 hour exam brain. And I've had apathetic, lazy, I'm just gonna lie here and watch 8 hours of lifetime, soap operas and game show brain. And now, I apparently have 'blogger brain'. As I've mentioned before, I have been writing a daily blog for sometime now-the cleverest of clever posts have been created in my mind. Now that I've finally created a blog through which I plan to share my cleverness with the world, I can't come up with a clever, enjoyable post to save my life. I have coined this condition "blogger brain". I think it stems from trying too hard. Whereas before, I was internally blogging about everyday occurrences, I now find myself seeking out these occurrences and overly analyzing each and every interaction I have on a daily basis. Therefore, I feel my blog is going nowhere fast. And sense I'm not one to accept failure or defeat without one hell of a fight, I beg of you, my 3 loyal followers and anyone else who may stumble upon this site o' mine, stay tuned! It will fall into place. I just know it will. I mean, I am dedicated if nothing else. I found myself taking pictures of things such as a deer carcass on the side of the road, thinking, "this will make for a great blog entry--all about the time I was driving down a country road and came upon a deer carcass". Then, I took a picture of the minuscule amount of apple a coworker of mine left behind after devouring an entire apple in about 30 seconds flat (look for a future post regarding '4S' as to why this pained me in so many ways). I mean, my cores are usually about 2 inches long and the size of a nickel, if not a quarter, around. But his, his was about a half inch long and the size of a pen around. How do you eat an apple down to that? In my mind, this made for an excellent blog entry, but do you, the reader, honestly care about my coworker's apple core? or much less, the deer carcass I found on the side of a country road in Woodstock, AL? I think not. So, I will spare you any further details and tell you a little story about my visit to Woodstock, AL. . .post carcass discovery.

As many of you know, I am a single mom. Its not something I'm ashamed of. Its not something I seek out pity for. Its merely the place I've found myself in life. Is it ideal? No. Am I a "victim"? Not at all. Did many a mistake lead me to where I am? Most definitely? But, could Liliana's biological father have made better choices when all is said and done? Yes. 100 times yes! I refuse to walk around ashamed of my situation, though. I refuse to allow it to bring me down. I can't. I have a 3 year old life depending on me to show her the world, teach her right from wrong, encourage her amazing imagination, keep her safe to the best of my ability and meet her needs with every ounce of my being. . .period. And I'm not too humble to say, I do a damn good job. Motherhood is something I can do, something I can do well, gosh darn it.

So, why then, did the following conversation take place?

Patient Caregiver (pcg): (after I shared an experience I had with my daughter). So, what's your husband's name?

Me: (without missing a beat) Bill.

pcg: Oh, so its not Jack (hahahahaha).

Me: No, but we get teased just the same for our rhyming names.

pcg: What does he do for a living?

Me: He works for AT&T. . .in sales actually.

pcg: that's a hit or miss profession.

Me: don't I know it! He happens to be doing very well at the moment though, so no complaints here.

WHAT THE WHAT??? Why did I make up a completely fictitious husband and proceed to share details of his fictitious occupation and success at said occupation??

And how did I rattle off this false information so quickly without hesitation or skipping a beat? I mean, I have dated a "Bill". That much is true. But were I to recall all of my past relationships and fantasize about being married to one, it soooo wouldn't be him! He never could have swung a job at AT&T. None of my past beaus could have held down a job in sales for a reputable company such as AT&T. They couldn't have held down a job anywhere that required drug testing and consistent attendance. Hell, they couldn't hold down a job period. Especially not Bill!

So, I leave my experience today confused. Am I as strong and accepting of my situation as I claim to be? Or am I secretly ashamed and therefore, when put on the spot, feel the need to twist it into something society deems "acceptable"? I am an advocate for many things society tends to shun. If anything, I'm ashamed of lying about my situation as I did today. Its more than a feeling of being "ashamed" though. I can't quite pin point it. I'm suddenly questioning myself in so many ways.