Why I'm on my twevlth remote control...

When my husband and I married 17 years ago, we were the first to marry out of our group of friends.
Within a few years, we were attending weddings almost every month, and by the end of the decade, most of our friends were all married.

I knew then, like I know now, not all our friend's marriages were going to last. I mean really, when your soon to be husband is arrested two towns over a month before the wedding for soliciting a prostitute...well, you get the picture.

Now almost 17 years later, Hubby and I are still married but most of our friends are now divorced, separated or living in horribly dysfunctional marriages.

Last year one of the few childhood friends I still keep in touch with was arrested for spousal abuse. Although she was the one arrested for the abuse, her husband is no saint, and most of the abuse in the marriage is perpetrated by him (physical, psychological, and verbal etc...).

Seriously, who hasn't thought about stabbing their spouse with a screw driver?
Whatever is handy, I guess. And even though I joke, it was no joke when the cops showed up and arrested her on her front lawn in front of her kids.

I've been tempted to throw a punch or two but usually I just end up throwing the remote across the room. Like I said, whatever is handy and near by.

She called last week to say she had completed her one year of probation and anger management class.

Honestly, what do you say? What's the protocol here, people? Do I send her a Hallmark card congratulating her on her twelve months of abuse free living? Do I send her one of those pretty handpainted screwdrivers I see at Ace Hardware or Season 1 of Cops?

Any suggestions?

Maybe next time I feel like smothering the Hubby in his sleep because he's snoring too loud, I'll take a moment to be grateful the remote control isn't sharp and pointy.

Never having to say you're sorry...

Has anyone else noticed that we seem to be raising a generation of children (or two) who feel they never have to say they're sorry?

After reading Bill Maher's latest post, it got me thinking of that phrase I so dearly hate...

"It's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission."

I see this ideology being used on a daily basis, and it nauseates me to my core.

Just a few weeks ago, a developer who's building three houses in our neighborhood, filled in overnight a protected wetland that was located just in front of his houses. When I noticed it, it really didn't surprise me. It seems quite common place that people break the law in order to make a buck.

But once again, it reminded me of that ideology which is so seriously flawed, and yet it seems to be an accepted method of getting what you want without paying the consequences.

Is that what we're teaching our children?
That as long as they say sorry afterwards, all is absolved?

We live in an era, where everyone from an adulterous Senator, to the neighbor down the street uses that word, "Sorry" so flippantly that it no longer holds any value or even truth.

It's challenging to teach children that being honest with yourself and the world brings a type of inner peace that is so powerful.

I remind them that...

Karma always wins out in the end, even if we're not there to see it.

Reflections of peace...

The year was 1987 and I was a freshman at a relatively small private liberal university(approx. 1200) in California.

I was finally out of the house and beyond my mother's overbearing, psychotic bi-polar, manic/depressive control.

It was one of the happiest times in my life where I felt the most free.


I returned early from winter break in order to go skiing in Bear Valley with two friends. They picked me up at school in their 1970 VW Camper and we headed out on Highway 4 listening to Cat Stevens, Yes, Fleetwood Mac and the Grateful Dead. It was total bliss laying in the back of the camper as I watched the clouds drift by while listening to some of my favorite music.

We were staying in one of our parents ski cabin a few miles outside of Calaveras Big Trees State Park, redwood trees everywhere.

For the next 5 days we skied. Glorious sunny days skiing in fresh powder that had fallen from the night before, beautiful.

Since we were there during the week and there was a recession tapering down in California, the ski resort was virtually empty.
On some runs I was the only person on the lift, which is something I've never experienced then and since. My friends were much more experienced skiers than I and were skiing black diamond runs for most of the trip.

I remember so vividly riding up the mountain. It was so quiet. Imagine for a moment, there is no traffic, no people, no voices... no one in sight. Snow covered trees, no clouds in the sky, deep pine smells that fill your nose. Heaven.

It was literally the most peaceful moment I've ever experienced and I remember thinking there will never be a more beautiful moment than this moment now, right here...as I glided up the mountain all alone.

Post Secret...

My brother and I used to play pranks on each other, this kind of sick humour would have been priceless.

I wish I'd thought of this.

Where is his hope?

As a child, I always had hope.

Hope that some day someone would love me, unconditionally.

Hope that some day a mother and a father would adopt me.

Hope for a love without abuse.



My ability to hope has been a great gift.
The gift to dream of a better life.
And although there were times of deep despair...I never lost the gift to dream of a better life.

Now, as an adult, I realize this gift of always having hope, does not live inside everyone. And as strange as it might be, I married a man who views the glass as half empty.
Obviously, opposites really do attract.

To say that he views the glass as half empty is an understatement.
He honestly views the glass as half empty, and probably filled with parasites, poised on the edge of a table, which is about to lose a leg. Literally.

Once, years ago, he told me he always felt when we were starting our married life that we were, "one paycheck away from living under a freeway overpass".

I can't express what an OVER exaggeration that statement is...however, whenever we've struggled financially, this has been his mindset.

And for all you other wives out there, I've got to tell you, living with someone who thinks this way is fucking exhausting. Mentally and physically exhausting. He just wears me out.

These last few months, his business has been down, and I can see and feel the stress that is emanating from his pores. His stress is powerful and can suck you in.

And no matter how many times I tell him, we should be grateful that he has a job, we have a roof over our head, our children are fed and clothed, etc....it just doesn't sink in.


Where is his hope?

Welcome to the neighborhood...

What is hilarious about this photo is that the wiener dog poo(s) on a tissue...


My closest and dearest girlfriend moved into my neighborhood this week.

For the last 4 years she's heard me complain about the 'neighbor' who lets her dog roam and shit all over the neighborhood. But Thursday morning she got to see it first hand when she stepped out on the back patio and spied some 'fresh' shit on her clean lawn that clearly wasn't from her dog.

Isn't that nice?

Welcome to the neighborhood Honey!

Nothing makes you feel more at home than:

• Fresh shit on your beautiful lawn.
• The neighbor's Harley revving at 6am.
• Neighbors that are already complaining about the moving van parked in front of your house.
• Oh, did I forget to mention you can hear the seals (and roosters, too) at dawn? Sorry.

The good part was, the complete dinner...including brownies that one of the neighbors brought her, to welcome her to the neighborhood. Isn't that sweet?

The good neighbors outweigh the bad.




...and now I've got my partner in crime living 3 doors down.


My husband is going to have his hands full.

Too much stress for one little girl...

Slowly, with the help of a family therapist, my youngest is trying to learn coping skills to deal with her OCD issues and stress.

My little baby carries so much stress and anguish around inside her. I guess I always knew it. But I didn't realize how bad it has been for her on a daily basis.

No eleven year old should worry that much.

We pass on so much to our children without realizing it.

Our fears.
Our hopes.
Our genetics.

She worries that our house might burn down.
She worries that our animals might die.
It doesn't stop there though, even the littlest things can cause her stress.

Her mind seems to have control over her. Even as a young child she used to tell us that her mind told her things. She'd have these 'bad' thoughts, as she called them.

I knew immediately what she was talking about.

Because as a child myself, I remember desperately struggling to keep bad images or bad thoughts out of my head while I was trying to fall asleep. The difference is, my childhood, was well, pretty bad...to put it mildly.

My brother and I had been in and out of many foster homes and group homes by the time I was 6 years old.
We suffered from abandonment, neglect, abuse, isolation, instability...

The difference is, my mind has protected me all these years.
I know hidden away in the depths of my psyche are memories of abuse that run deep.

I knew I'd be a different mother.
I knew I'd break the cycle of abuse.

What I didn't know was, without even trying, without any intent, I'd still pass on my stresses and fears to my children.

Yes, every child is born with certain pre-dispositions, but as much as we might try, our children are still our children.

Our children are ourselves.

And every morning, I see her eyes, her nose, her hair, her smile, and she reminds me of me.