My brother and I were dropping off mom and dad at the airport, appreciating our last moments together after a wonderful week celebrating our cousin's wedding with a lot of other family members.

It was while I was hugging my parents, saying my goodbyes, that I felt a sudden, powerful twinge of sadness. And I realized I didn't want to let go.

Family, and parents in particular, can drive you crazy, but it is also so easy to take for granted all the amazing things they offer - the support, the advice, the unconditional love. Just because we're now adults doesn't mean the world always makes sense, and it is during those times when it doesn't, when you feel alone, confused, even lost, that having family to lean on becomes such an amazing gift.

I hate hearing stories about family members who no longer speak to one another. They seem so tragic to me.

I understand that there are cases where so much damage has been done, where terrible things may have happened, that it becomes impossible to mend relationships, that family becomes an empty word, that the very idea of staying in touch with someone because there is some shared DNA sounds downright ludicrous.

But usually, the source of family strife is at its core a rather simple matter or misunderstanding that grew over time into a knotty, complicated beast, either because of tensions that had long been building or because of a lack of honest and open communication (and often because of both reasons).

I wish it could be easy for quarreling family members to look past ego or pride or principle and do what it takes to resolve their problems, but the tight binds of family, and the intense passions they can arouse, often makes it impossible for one to keep a clear perspective.

But I know what families can be at their best. I've been fortunate enough to have one that qualifies. And they're worth the effort of fixing them when they go wrong ...

And of not letting go of them when they're right.

My brother got a perfect score bowling last night on the Wii.  I have to give him credit EVEN THOUGH I'M CHOKING ON IT !!!!  Way to go Darryl.

Anyway, Drayton Manor. Good fun which lasted the whole day. There was a little asian baby that took a liking to me which resulted in him pulling me with his little tiny hands.. Fran took a liking to a different white baby who was quite small and fat.. Umm, the Pirate Ride.. We went on it 8 or 9 times. Nothing happened people.. Just forget about those rumors..

School has resumed and I'm gutted about being forced to take GCSE R.E, because it is my worst subject..

Last night Phil and Beach came over. We played Wii Fit but Phil refused to weigh himself. Dan's weight is,'ideal'. We went downstairs and watched a bit of Punjab FM for a joke and then watched a weird program called, 'Most Haunted'. Big Brother came on so we watched the final of that. When it went past 3am, I was falling asleep whilst Dan and Phil watched Jackass: The Movie. At 5am, I woke up to find that Phil and Dan had disappeared. The lights where out, the TV was off and the house was silent. I felt a bit creeped out after just watching Most Haunted, so I just ran upstairs and went to bed in my clothes lol.

11am on the same day was the time that I was woken up by a vacuum cleaner.. Later at about 3pm we went to Redditch and bought some stuff. We saw Katie Poole with another girl called Chloe Fusco. Went to Mc.Donalds and sorted something out with Tom Wads. Later we saw Miheal and some other people.

After town, I had to go swimming so we dropped Beach and Phil home. I was knackered.

Right now I think its about 1:30am so I'm just dead tired.

Urmm, closing thoughts, 'Still can't believe Mikey lost BB..'

Laterz =]

When I was a little girl, my brother molested me on our living room couch. I used to pretend I was the wall. I would look away, and I was the wall, and this wasn't happening. He wasn't touching me there or licking me there. And I wasn't there either, because I was the wall.

Sex eludes me. As I understand it, some survivors turn nun-like, like I did, and some survivors fuck everything. Some survivors fuck everyone, because fucking strangers feels easier than being made to fuck your brother or step-father or whoever fucked you before you were old enough to consent to it. This is why you shouldn't fuck kids; it fucks with our sexuality, and fucks us for the rest of our life. No matter how old I am, I will always be the little girl who didn't want her brother touching her there.

This weekend we had my parents over.. Nice to have them here again. The kids got birthday presents from my brother and sister (and their families). =)

So now starts a new week for us. You know here in Israel Sunday is like a Monday.. which means weekend is over.. back to work - back to school etc. Tomorrow morning we are going to take the kids to the dentist for the first time.. just a general checkup.
Tomorrow evening I have to hand in a paper for the University.. I should get started.. didn't start to write it yet.. though I know more or less what to write.

This coming week I'll have to be more organized. I have a lot to do now since school started again. But I also think this week will be easier. Last week the kids were at kindergarten only for a couple of hours the first days. This week they will be there more.

I was simply amazed when I looked at these pictures. They made me smile and made me realized how creatively crazy my youngest brother, Khem, could get.

So HELP? I need advice!

...was served by my dad -- and received first, by me somewhere on the back of my right thigh, and after approximately 3 seconds, by my brother at more or less the same spot on his :D !

It was some time in April 1993, during our summer holidays! We used to live in this awesome house set in the midst of 1.5 acres of white sand and lush greens...in the then little town of Guruvayur! I was 8 then (my brother, 11) -- a naughty, impish girl who used to create havoc within the house all the time, and when thrown out, amidst my brother's friends! :D .

We considered ourselves the luckiest among my cousins (who all lived either in crammed apartments in huge cities or in little rooms put together in 2 cents of land and called a 'house'!) :P and I used to walk around singing praise of this beautiful house and the space around it.

All sorts of pranks, mischiefs and tomfoolery were allowed for by dad and mom. "Ee praayathil nalla akramam venam pillerkk", they used to say (It's the age when kids should be naughty). ;) We used to dress up the poor cow in its own dung; we used to hide behind bushes and throw huge, but dead, Eveready batteries at poor Raman Nair, the old-man-with-bracket-legs, who used to look after the trees and the soil spread over 1.5 acres; we used to steal mom's starched sarees from her cupboards and make tents with it (we thought she never knew!); we used to pack pepper leaves in small packets and throw it on the road, catching some poor betel chewer unawares! We used to go to the temple every morning just to get the yummy prasadam; we used to make mud-pies (i actually tasted one!) and serve our friends; we used to play lagorie/seven-stones (i used to get badly hit by the guys!); we used to catch thumbis and then guilt-ridden, let them go; we used to build tents and make dad inaugurate them, urge him to step in (every time, it would be too low for his height, too fragile and would collapse over his head) and blame him for the destruction; we used to frolic all the time in the wide, deep pond without the slightest fear -- until I drowned once! But that was never an issue. I decided never to drown again...and we continued our swimming adventures :D

The only thing NOT allowed: we were warned never to scream while dad was asleep. And that's just what I did that day in April 1993. :D

We were playing police and thief. When it was my turn to be thief, the 'police' came chasing and I ran for my life (and loot)! Went rushing into the kitchen from where mom shooed us out. The only place left for me to run into was my parent's bedroom...and, forgetting the fact that dad was enjoying his after-lunch nap, I let out a blood-curdling scream and ran into his room. By the time I'd half-circled across his bed and reached the other side, he was up! The first thing he got in his hand was my grandfather's walking stick.

I ran, he swung. The timings clicked. That aristocratic-looking smooth, 1-inch diametre stick kissed me -- violently on the backside of my right thigh.

Silent. Breathless. Motionless.

Too late to realise, my brother pushed me ahead. Dad swung it high again. My brother found himself in exactly the same spot I had been approximately 3 seconds ago. The timings clicked again. Apparently, the stick was highly confused in matters of sexual interests! It kissed him too! :D

Silent. Breathless. Motionless.

We both strode across the huge hall, entered our room, locked the door, went to our respective beds, pressed our face down into our pillows -- and screamed in pain!

Some slam it was! Oh my god! I felt like I was a sheet of crumpled paper that had been floating around and suddenly settled down in a fire, flames licking at me with their rough tongues!

My dad never hit us ever again. In return for that favour, we never screamed while he slept. :D

Now, tell me this -- do you have a 'hit' story that can beat this one (no pun intended) ?

P.S.: In 1993, the Grand Slam was Steffi Graf's too! The US Open, Wimbledon and French Open :D

My family is moving to Alberta tomorrow and I'm so fucking excited.  It's somewhat upsetting that I won't see them for another few months, but they're getting tiring.  Mums always bitching about this or that; she's had so much work to do around the house that she just... went fucking crazy over it.  I'll miss my siblings though.  Just recently I've began to get really close to them.  I smoked my brother up the other day... The look on his face when I went into his room and asked him to come smoke a bowl... wow priceless.  It could be on a god damn Mastercard commercial. I drove his girlfriend home tonight. They sat in the back seat and made out the whole way... I had to turn the music up so I didn't have to hear them.

What else is new?

Well I just figured out one of my good friends went on a 3 week coke binge. Somewhat disturbing... but I guess it's not really. Everyone makes drugs out to be such bad things. They're really not... just recreation. Like going kayaking, or mountain climbing. It's the dependency that's the problem... friends and family worry.  Oh well.. I'm sure she'll be fine.  Same old girl :D

Anyways.
I'm.
Fucking.
Tired.
2.53AM.
Time.
For.
Bed.

Your handsome face,
that's what I see.
Your perfect little body,
so beautiful to me.

I remember holding you close,
all wrapped in your blanket.
I didn't want to put you down,
I couldn't even think it.

You seemed so very fragile,
my tiny little man.
I was so afraid to kiss you
or hold your precious hand.

Lovingly I unwrapped you,
I counted your fingers and toes.
Just like I said before,
perfect....down to your nose.

So I lovingly covered you,
all snuggled and warm.
I hugged you to my heart
to keep you from harm.

But it was way too late
for all my loving care.
God had you in heaven
and all I had were tears.

I remember all the love I felt.
I remember just holding you there.
I remember feeling so numb
and thinking that life was so unfair.

Your handsome face
that's what I see.
Your perfect little body
so beautiful to me.

written by Terri Stanifer
in memory of Franklin Thomas Stanifer

Psalm 139:13-16:

¹³For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb.  ¹⁴I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.  ¹⁵My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.  ¹⁶Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them

My brother planted the  idea about coming back earlier to spend some extra time in Washington.  My workload was extremely light at my job and so I secretly planned to come to Washington five days earlier than planned.  My brother was the only one who knew of my plan, since he was going to pick me up from the airport.  My brother will often times go into work over the weekend, so he could say he had to go to work to finish a project. I wanted desperately to keep this a surprise from my wife.  I knew I need an excuse to ignore all phone calls for two hours during my flight, so I told my wife I was going to see Clone Wars that Saturday.  On a side note,  I still haven't seen Clone Wars yet.

After arriving in Washington, I was not sure how I was going to surprise my wife.  My brother called my wife and mom to see what the plan was for dinner that night.  My wife needed to go to Target to pick up some diapers for our daughter prior to dinner.  My brother and I arrived at Target before my wife.  I spent a few minutes wandering the back aisle of the store.  I wanted to find the right opportunity to surprise my wife.  I was concerned that my bright Lithuania Basketball shirt would give me away but I made every effort to keep out of my wife's and kids' line of sight in the store.  When they finally arrived I saw both my mom and sister at the front of the store. (My sister and niece were visiting from Eastern Washington that weekend as well.)

It took them awhile to reach the back of the store but I knew eventually my kids would want to check out the toy section.  If the kids went to the toy section then my wife would be there as well.  It is funny as I was standing in one of the aisle, I saw my sister and niece pass by and they did not even notice me.  My mom also walked by and she did not notice me.  This was quite fun but the ultimate question would someone notice me first or would I totally surprise my wife?

As I heard my wife and kids approach ( both my kids are loud), I took precautions to hide between the aisle to conceal my whereabouts.  I waited patiently for the right opportunity and it came.  My wife went to take a look at some toys in a different aisle without the kids.  The rest of my family were scoping out the toy cars.  (My kids can spend hours looking at toy cars. )  With my wife's back to me, I quickly swooped in behind her.  I think at that moment my mom and sister noticed me but my brother kept them quiet, and they were a little shocked and surprised.  I was behind my wife and then I tapped her on her shoulder.  The shock and surprise on her face was worth it all.  It had only been about two weeks but I truly missed my wife and i was very happy to hold my wife in my arms again, even in a Target store.  My kids were like there is dadda and then the went back to checking out the toys.

My wife, mom and sister were very happy to see me.  I had not seen my sister and niece for over two years so it was a great weekend to get together.  This was a great vacation and i am so happy that i went up early to spend some extra time in Washington with my family.  I even got some time to play basketball on the X-Box 360 with my brother.

I hate being judges or labeled or assessed or diagnosed..

there is NO medication to take away the pain inside me..

I am addicted to self harm & I DO NOT WANT ATTENTION!... anything but..

I have a brother & a dad - they are all that matters now..

There is no make up that could make me remotely beautiful.. because I don't love myself..

I hate who I am, who I'm becoming & who others think i am..

I am as fake as barbie.. but couldn't be further from perfect...

I love photography & have a huge passion for it.. BUT since I began fading away this year.. the passion has faded away too.. 

I love writing quotes... & I drown out the world with music that reminds me how fucked up I am..

I am often emotionally unstable & sometimes think it would be better if i was just locked up in a mental ward...

In the past 5 months I have had a serious breakdown 10 times..

I am not a poser just because I take a lot of photos of myself.. I just need them so If i die.. people remember me.. & so I can remember how to smile when I just don't have the energy anymore.. I don't want to forget the person I'm acting to be... Because no matter what she will always be apart of me.. 

In the past 8 weeks.. I've lost between 10-15 kg (20-35 pounds) 

I am planning to get away mid June next year.. Leaving everything & everyone behind me.. for good..

I love my muffin man.. he is the bestest ever.. he makes me smile & laugh.. at the randomest things he tells me.. 

Signing Off.. In tears..

A.

So, one day less than a month into all of this mess, my bro approaches me asking for advice. He said that him and SIL were fated, that it was truly love at first sight, blah, blah, blah... I told him that if this was indeed the case then they should wait until he had a chance to explain everything to his current livein and at the very least, allow her to exit the situation with her dignity and self-respect intact. SIL approached Jim with the same question and concerns, and he essentialy answered almost exactly what I had. Now of course neither one of them decided to follow any of our advise and, in fact, ended up resenting us emmensely in the future for not being there with our support when they wanted and needed it.

Goodness gracious. Whatever. What ended up resulting was one disasterously messy breakup for my bro and his current. For almost a solid month, Jim, Sara and I were subjected to all kinds of drama directly above our heads as various pairs continually did some sort of battle. Finally one day, all returned to relative quiet. Out with the old and in with the new.

Now SIL had quite a few issues that were not first apparent but quickly revealed themselves. For starters, she had my bro paint each and every room new colours because she wanted to erase any memories of his past living situation. Any furniture that he bought with the other one, had to be removed and replaced. Actually, not just inanimate objects, but essentially, she wanted his entire past eradicated so any friends that he had associated with regularly while with her had to go as wel. Unfortunately, Jim and I ended up falling into this catergory also so it wasn't very long until we were both chucked off to the side. 

I mean, it was slow and insideous initially but the end result was the same. It's now been over a decade and this aspect of our relationships have never been repaired. Now, obviously I'd been his sister for three and a half decades and it was hard for me, but for Jim it was particularly crushing. At this point the two of them had been best friends for twenty years. Rarely had you ever not seen one of them without the other. All of their previous girlfriends knew and respected this and learned to adapt. This was the first time ever that something had pulled them apart. To this day, Jim still has a difficult time accepting what happened and what has allowed to continue.

I play the flute and piccolo in our school band. Yes, I am, in fact, a band geek. Our band director told us to show up to the "big" football game at 6:45, for the game was due to begin at seven o'clock. I got home from cross country practice and lounged around for a little while, glancing nervously at the clock every now and then. I began to get ready when the time was right, and put on a white tank top (black tank top underneath), blue jeans and flip flops. I had no idea that I would be freezing my tush off for the rest of the night.

I played my piccolo along with the band every time the ref blew the whistle, and stopped when they began playing again. Pretty soon, tiny raindrops began to fall. My friend who sat beside me was chanting "It's not going to rain! It's not going to rain!" Let me just say that her little chant did not work.

It started pouring. I hurriedly stuffed my piccolo into its case, and ran off to join my brother and one of my very good friends. We walked around the facility and soon enough I was so soaked that I did not even care that my feet were splashing around in the puddles. I talked with friends, got told that I made a "wise" choice for wearing a white tank top, and soon my teeth were chattering so fiercely that I could not even make them stop.

All I craved was a hot shower. A nice long, hot shower to wash away all of the rain water. Right when I got home, I put my wet clothes in the washer, and enjoyed a shower. After being showered on by raindrops, it was everything I needed.

P.S. The team ended up winning. Woohoo. (Again, sarcasm.)

BHUBANESWAR, India, September 4 (Compass Direct News) – Christian victims of Hindu extremist violence who have fled to the capital of the eastern state of Orissa said state police have been mere spectators as mayhem continued a 12th consecutive day.

Attacks on Christians and their property and institutions began in Orissa’s Kandhamal district following the killing of a Vishwa Hindu Parishad (World Hindu Council or VHP) leader, Laxmanananda Saraswati, and four of his disciples on August 23. Maoists claimed responsibility for the murders on Monday (Sept. 1), though the statement did nothing to slow Hindu extremist violence that Christian leaders say has claimed more than 100 lives.

Among those who have fled to Bhubaneswar was Father Prabodha Kumar, a Catholic priest who reached the Catholic Archbishop’s House in the capital after a seven-day journey from Onjamundi village in Kandhamal. He was among other fearful sojourners at the house whose mobile phones constantly rang with news of more attacks from their relatives, friends and church members in interior villages of Kandhamal.

Fr. Kumar looked deeply troubled after one such phone call yesterday.

“My brother has been forced to ‘reconvert’ to Hinduism, as he was told that if he did not do so, his house would be destroyed,” he said.

Asked why he did not report the abuse to the police, the priest told Compass that if police officers could “witness Christians being brutally attacked,” why would they do anything to save his brother?

A few minutes later, Fr. Kumar’s phone rang once again. This time, it was about Christians in Kanpada village in Balliguda Block (Kandhamal district) being told to “reconvert” if they did not want their houses to be burned.

Shortly thereafter, another victim at the Archbishop’s House received a phone call reporting that at least 19 houses and churches were burned down that morning in Lujurmunda village, under Tikabali police station jurisdiction in Kandhamal.

State Inaction

That police did nothing to protect Christians is the assertion of most of the victims of Orissa violence.

Ravindranath Pradhan, a 45-year-old former soldier for the Indian Army, told Compass that two policemen came to him in his village, Gadragaon – also under the jurisdiction of Tikabali police station in Kandhamal – on August 24 and asked if he had heard the news about Saraswati’s killing. The officers told him to be “cautious,” but when he said police should protect him and his family, they said they didn’t have enough force to do so and left the village.

A little while later, he said, a mob of around 50 Hindu extremists stormed into the village and burned 31 houses belonging to Christians. The mob burned and killed his brother, Rasanand Pradhan, who suffers from paralysis, as he lay on his bed in a room that was set on fire.

“There is a police post in Pasora village, around five kilometers [three miles] from Gadragaon, but there was not even a single policeman in the village at the time of the attack,” the former soldier told Compass.

Ravindranath Pradhan, along with more than 100 Christians – including women, children and babies from his village, walked to reach Bhubaneswar, covering more than 300 kilometers (186 miles). He walked and used various means of transport, halting in numerous forests, before he was able to reach the state capital on Tuesday (Sept. 2).

“It took us four long days to reach Bhubaneswar,” Pradhan said. “We did not eat anything. We survived on water from rivers along the route. We also encountered wild animals in some forests.”

Pradhan had severe swelling of his left foot. One of his brothers was recovering in a hospital.

Many Christians from Gadragaon village reached Bhubaneswar on August 28. They were taken by local Christians to a YMCA center, where several other victims also are temporarily residing.

Christian leaders estimate at least 40,000 people have taken refuge in forests, and some 20,000 persons have fled to 10 government relief camps.

Police Afraid of VHP

Father Mathew Puthyadam of Christ the King Catholic Church in Phulbani town in Kandhamal also blames police for inaction.

At around 8:30 p.m. on August 24, he heard a mob shouting anti-Christian slogans, he said.

“I knew the church was going to be attacked,” Fr. Puthyadam said, his voice still trembling with fear. “I escaped to a nearby house when I saw a crowd of around 4,000 people carrying the body of Saraswati coming towards the church. The district collector [administrative head], the Deputy Inspector General [DIG] of Police, and several police personnel were also there.”

The Saraswati funeral procession stopped outside the church building, with the Hindu extremists carrying the body of Saraswati before its gate. The mob then broke the boundary wall and damaged statues and a cross.

“The collector, the DIG and other policemen witnessed it without doing anything,” Puthyadam recalled. “The DIG merely told the crowd, ‘Enough, enough, now move on.’ It is only when the crowd pelted stones on the police, and some of them got hurt, that the DIG asked his force to use batons to disperse the crowd.”

A federal security force also blamed Orissa state police for failing to prevent attacks on Christians.

On Friday (Aug. 29), the commandant of the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF), Darshan Lal Gola, told The Indian Express newspaper that there was “complete breakdown of the state’s law and order machinery.” He pointed out that the CRPF rounded up 75 rioters in Deegei village under the Raikia police station, but local police refused to put them behind the bars.

A local human rights activist, Dhirendra Panda, said the state administration and police were afraid of VHP extremists.

“The state government did not conduct an autopsy on Saraswati’s body,” Panda said. “The body was not even taken to a hospital. Why didn’t the government follow the required procedure of law?”

Panda also pointed out that while the Orissa government put a restriction on all political party members and rights activists to visit Kandhamal, it gave police protection to VHP General Secretary Praveen Togadia to visit Saraswati’s Ashram (religious center) on August 25.

“Togadia was escorted by the police,” he said.

India’s Supreme Court reacted angrily to the Orissa administration’s denials yesterday of ongoing attacks, as justices ordered a commitment under oath for Orissa to provide protection to its people and their property.

Acting on Christian leaders’ charges that police were colluding with perpetrators and that the state government was a mute spectator, the court asked the Orissa chief secretary to file an affidavit today stating that the administration “will take all steps to protect life and property.”

Chief Justice K.G. Balakrishnan and Justices P. Sathasivam and J.M. Panchal had been enraged by a denial from state counsel Jana Ranjan Das that “allegations about continuing communal violence are false.”

Thus the Supreme Court on Wednesday ordered Orissa state to report on steps taken to stop the wave of anti-Christian violence. The court order came after Prime Minister Manmohan Singh ordered the state to punish those responsible for murder and arson.

In calling for the resignation of the entire state government of Orissa, on Monday (Sept. 1), Dr. Sajan K. George, national president of the Global Council of Indian Christians, said that the death toll from the violence had reached 100 “and more butchered bodies and burnt corpses are being found.”

“In Bakingia, two families of seven Christians – Daniel Naik and Michael Naik and their families – were tortured and killed,” George said. “Their bodies were found with their heads pulped and smashed, they were recognized by their clothes. Bakingia is about eight kilometers [five miles] from Raikia police station.”

Another Inflammatory Procession

The Orissa government today put a ban on another rally planned by the VHP to take the ashes of Saraswati in public procession from one village to another in Orissa beginning on Sunday (September 7), reported the Press Trust of India news agency.

The ban was announced by the state government in hearing of a petition filed by Archbishop Raphael Cheenath from Orissa in the Supreme Court of India.

The VHP and the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), a partner of the ruling government led by the Biju Janata Dal party, continue to blame Christians for the killing of Saraswati and four others in spite of the Maoist claim of responsibility for the assassination.

When Compass spoke to VHP Orissa State President Gauri Prasad Rath, he said the state government was wrongly linking Saraswati’s killing to Maoists.

“We know and believe that Christians killed him,” he said.

When Compass asked how he could say Christians killed him, he replied, “Christians attacked him on December 24, 2007.”

Saraswati allegedly incited the attacks on Christians and their property in Kandhamal during last Christmas season. The violence lasted for more than a week beginning December 24, and killed at least four Christians and burned 730 houses and 95 churches.

The 2007 attacks were allegedly carried out mainly by VHP extremists under the pretext of avenging an alleged attack on Saraswati by local Christians. Hundreds of Christians were displaced by the violence in Kandhamal, and many are still in various relief camps set up by the state government.

Christians make up 2.4 percent of Orissa’s population, or 897,861 of the total 3.7 million people.  

Report from Compass Direct News

I am a stay at home mom with two small children, 2 and 4.  I cannot fathom how we will make this work.  I feel like a scrooge saying no to her, but I can't figure out how we will be able to afford to pay for her car & insurance, her phone bills, the added food bills, and for her dog and the related expenses.  Then I get resentful that I feel like I need to go back to work outside the home to support her bad decisions.  To help you see her irresponsibility, she called my husband to ask for money one day to pay her bills, and she was out shoe shopping!  I go to the Thrift Store to buy my kids clothes and toys, so I can't understand that.  

We have one working bathroom at the moment (We are renovating our other one) and she is good with construction, so maybe she can help out that way, but the truth is, I just don't know that I would want another person in my house all the time.  My husbands and my bedroom does not have a door, so there goes any privacy, and I have nothing, nothing in common with her other than our ages.  We will have to put in a fence in the back to accommodate her dog, and we are going on vacation in 3 weeks so she gets to come along for free.  

This guy she is moving away from is evidently really bad news, so she does need to get away, but how can I get myself to feel ok with this?  I really wish my brother in law (husband's brother) were the one bearing this burden.
  Answer: Laura,
I don't believe that you have any long-term obligation to your SIL. Your focus and your husbands should be on your family. What I teach my children and encourage others to teach theirs is that CHOICES have CONSEQUENCES. Your SIL's lifestyle is the consequences of her past choices. Bailing her out now doesn't teach her anything. It only makes her think that she can continue on in her poor choices. You husband is the one you need to be concerned with. If he is willing to sabotage your living situation to help is bad decision making sister I would be scared. You need to have a sit down with him and get a time frame on how long she will be living there. At 34 she has more than enough energy to get a FULL-TIME job and find a studio apt to live in. If she is to live in your home as a guest she better pull more than her weight in the upkeep of the home. You could also charge her rent. Talk to your husband. She shouldn't just be allowed to simply live there. ]]> http://perfectlycursedlife.wordpress.com/?p=98 Fri, 05 Sep 2008 17:04:09 +0000 kmcsaks http://perfectlycursedlife.wordpress.com/?p=98

I haven't updated my blogs recently.  My chronic health blog has taken a turn for the worse simply because I haven't had the time, patience or motivation to do anything about it.  It's no one's fault but my own, but I can't bring myself to make it better.

The past two weeks have been hectic at best, crazy most of the time, and downright insane at worst.  We've had family drama, moving into the new house, busy work schedules and The Mister's birthday.  If ever there were a perfect storm of activity, it is now.

I've noticed some weird things about life/me/etc. recently.  They're like floating ideas that don't deserve their own post, but just enough to men

tion here.  So here are the things that have been ru

nning on the ticker-tape in my head as of late:

1.    People advertise movers that pack your stuff, but no one advertises movers who unpack your stuff.  Furthermore, movers are great, but they are constantly asking you were stuff goes.  Like I know!  I kept saying "just put it in the Red Room for now" or the like.  Eventually The Mister took over as one room was being barraged with boxes and the others were empty.

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2.     I've had a Friennassance with coffee.  I used to drink about a cup or two a day.  For the past week, I've been drinking coffee non-stop at work.  (In fact, I just took a sip.)  I know I've been sleep deprived and tired, but I don't think that's it as much as it is the taste.  When I was little, I used to want to drink coffee with my Grandma.  She'd give me a cup that was about 2/3 milk and sweet n' low and 1/3 coffee.  How I loved that taste!  I still take my coffee with milk and sweet n' low (splenda at work because they're sweetner nazis here).  Maybe it's a memory thing.  Maybe it's a taste thing.  But lately, coffee has been my new BFF.

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3.   Things could be a lot worse.  Without going into details, The Mister has had a family situation over the past week involving a lot of drama and he's had to take the brunt of it because, well, his family is just like that.  It's made his birthday week a bit sour and I resent his family for that alone, but more importantly I resent them for making him the pillar of responsibility.  Seeing this reminds me that my family, while crazy, could be a lot worse.  My ever-commenting Mom can be a pain, but she's genuinely one of the nicest people anyone could meet.  My Dad can be stubborn, but he's also one of the strongest people I know.  My Brother is idiotic and comical, but he's got a good head on his shoulders.  The Mister's family isn't composed of bad people--they're just misguided.  And this week I feel blessed that it's not my family drama at the center of our lives.

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4.  I love giving gifts more than getting them. I've always assumed this to be true, but now more than ever I'm convinced of it.  I was so excited to get wicked awesome seats at the Tiger's game for the Mister on Wednesday and reservations at the Tiger's Club.  I also had his name put on the scoreboard.  At first he was actually mad at me for spending the money.  But I told him to cut the games and, eventually he did.  See he grew up with his birthday being less than stellar.  I refuse to play that game.  Especially now that he's turned 30.  I have one more gift to give today and I'm ecstatic to give it to him.

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There's probably a lot more, but those are the main throughts that have been streaming through my brain.  I need to get back to work, but I had to get this out there.  I feel like I'm having a backlog.  I need some sort of brain/creativity laxitive.

For more exciting Kimisms check out my Kimisms Google Page. I'm always saying something witty.

My Brother is on recurrence number five of the brain cancer. Each new regrowth of the cancer has happened faster than the last.  Aggressive treatment is required each time.

At each recurrence, the doctors pull another weapon out of the arsenal to fight it.  This time it was to be some nasty ass chemotherapy---basically poisoning the system in hopes of killing off the cancer cells.  I say 'nasty ass' because the side effects of any chemotherapy are bad... nausea, fatigue, etc.  But, for this round, they were proposing something that would really make him sick, so would have to hospitalize him to ensure he didn't dehydrate or have other bad side effects without being at reach of a doctor.

Backtracking a bit, my brother has taken up a hobby to help him through all of this.  He's putting together a 1/32nd scale village, using bits and pieces of different toy sets. He sets up scenes (like, recently, a homecoming parade) with buildings, vehicles, and people.  Some of the people and scenery he paints himself.

Brother was in the midst of painting some people when the calls came from the docs to discuss options for this latest round of treatment.  One point came out that caused my Brother to pause.  The chemo proposed had a chance of inhibiting some of my Brother's fine motor skills (as well as some other potentially nasty side effects)... fine motor skills like, oh, painting 1/32nd scale figures.

That news had a profound impact on my Brother. After discussion with his wife, my Brother has decided to defer any more treatment.  He came to the conclusion that he wanted to live the rest of his life like he wanted, not like how the doctor's wanted.  He wanted to paint, play with his grandchild, and do what he could to live his life.

When he called to tell me his decision, he joked that he would have to add a new tombstone to his toy village cemetery with a special epitaph - - -

GnuKid's Brother

Town Founder

"...in the end, he decided to paint..."

Who knows how much time we'll have left with him.  I'm off to visit just to be with him and share some more time.

Spooky Addendum:  I called my sister-in-law to make sure it was okay to visit.  My Brother was in the background, talking as well.  Right in the middle of our conversation, my sis-in-law stopped and repeated something my brother said:  "Hijack?".  I thought that rather a strange wish for my flight the next day.  Then Brother said something I couldn't hear and my sis-in-law said, "Oh!  You said, 'Hi, Jack'!"  Seems my Brother 'saw' my other brother, named Jack, and was just calling a welcome to him.  Jack died in 1963.

...I'm very glad I decided to go now...

The concern regarding my lack of tears has turned into an unexpected and even less desirable ability to cry at the most inopportune moments, over seemingly unrelated yet inane comments or thoughts.  My daughter watches me like I'm the star primate in a zoo exhibit, followed by this exchange: "Are you crying?"  "No."  "Yes, you are."  "No, I'm not."  "Yes, you are."  "No, I'm not."

I look to my husband for solace & suddenly realize he's just wondering when we'll ever have sex again.  I am exhausted by even the idea.  His hang dog look, as he waits for me to throw him a bone, makes it that much less likely to happen before his birthday in November.  I realize this does not fit in with my purported geisha mentality.  Think of me as schizophrenic & it will all be much simpler.

After driving 800 miles on Monday, approximately 18 hours on the road, I got up Tuesday morning and moved my son into NYC, his first apartment and his first real job.  Suddenly every New York news story seems personal & important.  Bags & bags of food & a futon were transported to the 11th floor.  It only felt slightly different than leaving a toddler to live in a tent at the mall.

At 12:01 a.m. Wednesday my daughter began dancing and screaming, "I'm 11!  I'm 11!  Yea!"  My head is still spinning.  Funeral on Saturday, Chuck E. Cheese on Wednesday.  (No, my daughter is not a total dork.  She shared her party with a 5-year old boy who was willing to give me the sweetest hug in exchange for a harmonica bought on the road at the fine dining establishment known as Cracker Barrel.)

Then there was the issue of the flaming e-mails I sent my mother after  . . .  I'll save that for a later date.

As Karmental said: "On the bright side, you likely have gathered enough fodder from spending time with your relatives to fuel your blog for another year or two….?" 

Never were truer words spoken. 

However, I have to begin with a little story related to comments from one of my favorite blogger chicks, Amanda, who happens to be in the midst of cancer treament.  She originally said this: "Oh FUCK. I’m so sorry."   Then today she proceeded to add: ". . . my first comment was literally the first thing out of my mouth out loud and I’m sorry it was so crude . . ." 

The second comment made me laugh out loud because the idea of ANYTHING seeming crude after this recent fiasco is ludicrous and so fundamentally laughable.  Thank you, Amanda, for being so amazingly wacked out as to worry about such a thing in between bouts of chemo.

So without further ado I will hereby relate Funeral Anecdote #1:

As is usually the case, I saw people at this surreal function who I would never run into otherwise.  I was lucky enough to see my step-brother, Scott, who I hadn't seen since maybe 1986 (22 years), and my step-sister Jodi, who I hadn't seen since 1976 (32 years).  They were the saving grace of the entire production, probably because they do not share even a smidgen of my family's DNA.

When I was 7 my mother married their father and they came to live with us, a reality show that would be titled "The Brady Bunch on Crack."  So I slept in the same bed with Jodi for 8 years and lived in the same house with Scott for 10.  (I'm pretty sure I even held his little balls in my pre-teen hands at one point.)  Jodi moved to live with her mother when she became pregnant at 16 & I just never, ever saw her again.  It was handled so incredibly well, don't you think?

I had been in relatively constant contact with Scott for the last couple of years, but because of conflicts with Jodi when we were growing up I never made the attempt to communicate with her.  One of the lessons learned at this family get together was that none of the problems we had as children ever really had anything to do with the two of us, they were all related to the non-handling of issues that need to be dealt with when you blend two families.  Since there was no adult intervention, we instead fought it out like wild animals. 

As for present day, Jodi has recently had treatment for breast cancer.  Her beautiful long hair fell out & she's had a mastectomy and partial restorative surgery on her right breast.  She is handling the entire situation with amazing aplomb.  Her hair is now perhaps half an inch long across her entire head.  Otherwise, she looks almost exactly the same. 

When we shared a hotel room I was incredibly jealous that she did not have to deal with Illinois humidity, a blow dryer and a curling iron, the torture implements necessary for all girls with limp, lifeless, flat hair.  As children Jodi & I were extremely competitive and it's amazing that I could carry the jealousy issues to such an extreme situation in an entirely new century.

Anyway, back to the definition of "crude."

You may remember that my sister Penny has a boyfriend whom I've previously compared to Charles Manson, along with insinuating my belief that he may be a participant in a vague & secret governmental project.  Go to Will We Survive or Witness Protection Program for those details.

The boyfriend, named Mike, was at the visitation & funeral, constantly under foot.  He's a jealous guy & wanted to make sure his girl wasn't taking the opportunity of her brother's funeral to get naked with a random dude.  Oddly, I liked him much better this time around.  The mullet was gone & he now sports a tattoo of my sister's name on his left wrist, although he was disturbed that I could barely read it.  He provided some necessary goofiness to the entire situation.  There is, however, a fine line involved when straddling the goofy precipice.

Mike approached Jodi, the cancer survivor, and said this: "So, what's the deal?  Does everyone in your family cut their hair that short or what?"  (Imagine these words said with a southern accent in the cartoon voice of the beloved dog Goofy.) 

The fact that he told me about it at all was amazing, since he included this thought: "You know, I knew she had cancer!"  I have to give the guy at least a minor break due to the fact that making small talk in a room full of strangers plus one dead body is just about the most uncomfortable situation possible.

* * * * *

Thanks to all of you who left the most wonderful, kind, sincere messages on this blog.  It was like you were all right there with me.  I will remember and appreciate it always.

I was totally floored.  I could not believe it was my bro!  Now to put in persepctive for those of you who are wondering why I was shocked.  My brother and I have different Mom's and grew up apart more than together and we rarely talk. So, it was a shock and an exciting one at that! 

Well he called me at 12:30 and we just got off the phone at 3:15!  And I could have kept on talking!  We talked about EVERYTHING.  About life in the big city compared to life here in the little mountains. It was amazing!!!  He was encouraging and inspiring!  It was great to hear my little brother's, brotherly instincts kick in with my marriage.  He also really pushed me to follow my dreams and get out of this town and you know what...I am.

I know I will pray and not rush and I know God has a plan. For a long time I have felt like His plan for me is not staying stuck in this town.  So I am really praying and seeking God on it.  I have dreams and I want to pursue them and I am praying that I will and I'm working to get there!

I am also extra excitied because he wants me to call him! YEAH!  It is great to know I am his sister and he loves me.  I guess I never was sure if I should call or not and now see I should have.  So, it is exciting and I will keep this up!  I am also excitied because I am going to visit......and YES I WILL BE COMING! :)  I can not wait to see where he lives, goes to school, his favorite hang outs, etc.  He has been here to visit and see my life and now I get to see his!  I am waiting on the dates-- sometime after Decemebr 1st I will be visiting him in NYC!!!  I can not wait!!!!

I love my little bro and have always loved him so much!  I wish all the best in the world for him.  And he doesn't realize how God used him tonight to just encourage me.  I am so grateful for the blessings of God!  He works in amazing and simple ways.

Well, I guess I must go and get some sleep but I had to write about my brother who I love and miss dearly!  I can not wait to see you little bro!  Thanks for calling and for loving me!  I'm proud of you and so excited for us to get closer!  Thanks for making that call tonight!  I love you!

PS We really will sit around and make fun of my hick accent!! :D

Piper’s personality sends out a vibe of honesty and purity. This chick has already figured out who she is and what she wants. Do I hear Piper for President?!? She’s comfortable in her skin and is smart enough to know how to get what she wants.

How does a girl get that ok with herself? She has people who believe in her, accept her as she is, and love her unconditionally. Piper’s a reflection of her Mom’s abilities, her Dad’s too. She hasn’t reached that age where parents are just someone to be rebelled against. Her hormones haven’t kicked in yet. And she is accustomed to being one of five so she’s not self-focused or self-absorbed. She’s a poster child for large families.

Piper’s proud of her Mom, she listened and clapped at the right times, even though it was after her bedtime. Piper’s loves her family. She held her brother with confidence and assurance. As the youngest daughter, not surprisingly, she looked to be in charge.

Piper is adorable! While on stage, she worked the crowd and wasn’t intimidated by a seasoned politician. When introduced, she had the social graces to know she was to stand and wave. I think Piper’s ready to be an aunt… and a VP! She's got my vote!

Please observe the following conversation about this picture:

AshleyNicole: that lol does not even make sense to me
Jenna: ok...the rabbit and the cat were looking at the fire and the cat told the rabbit to smell the fire. the rabbit's nose got burned, now the rabbit is mad
AshleyNicole: ooohh! i thought it just had a black nose
Jenna: well, it does...but it looks like it got burned
AshleyNicole: oh. *sigh*

Poor, poor Sister.  But Brother and I shall not give up on our brainwashing efforts yet.  We'll give it a few more weeks.

kthxbai

[gallery]

When I listen to the recording of the race, I can’t stop laughing. I sound like an idiot, quite frankly, an annoying one at that. But I don’t care. It still makes me grin. I hear jokes about us in the stands wanting to pee our pants. I laugh when I hear my own voice (is it really that high and annoying? And if so, apologies to anyone who has had to listen to it for extended periods).

And yet, there are small little gems on that tape. There are the final metres of the race when you can’t hear a thing because the screaming is so loud. And then there are the moments of confusion as we try to figure out – first, did they medal? Next, what was it? It is utter bewilderment. It is chaos.

I feel like my heart could drop out of my body at any moment.

As the results roll in, I scan with my binoculars the boat. I look at their faces. They are ecstatic. I am ecstatic now as well. I’m also starting to cry – it’s strange, this happy crying thing. I haven’t ever done it – I’m not a wedding crier, no siree, but hells bells, I’m an Olympic crier.

My other brother and I give each other a huge hug and we laugh at my tears. But then I look down a few rows and see a sister of one of the fellows in my brothers boat as red-eyed as I am, bawling her eyes out. We lock eyes and laugh. And continue to cry.

Beside us, separated by only a small plastic line, are other Olympic athletes. I recognize one of the Canadian women rowers – the spare, and she is teary too. I want to run down and take photos but after watching my mother get kicked out of the area by the Chinese volunteers, I am hesitant.

“Go for it,” she says, grinning, also teary, as she holds up the plastic tape up so I can squeeze under.

I run.

I find myself in the corner of the stands – as close to the podium as I could be. Lindsay, one of the rower’s fiancee’s is beside me snapping photos. She’s teary as well. Marnie McBean, a former Olympian rower is on my right and is actually wonderfully kind and funny in that moment where I am feeling shaky and teary. The boys look confused when they get their flowers – none have ever won a medal at the Olympics before. Maybe they don’t know what to do. Maybe they’re too tired to care.

“Raise them up!” shouts McBean as she pretends to have flowers in her hand. The three of us giggle at the same time as the fellows raise the flowers over their heads in the traditional pose.

Later that night, my brother and his teammate Iain come out to a house party, then later to the bar for beers with a big group of us. Beer negotiation is a skill – it’s a must where we are – and having an Olympic medal around your neck makes it all that much easier. Our server takes a dozen photos with his camera phone with the guys. We laugh. I’m happy and high in a way I haven’t been in years. We stay out until 3 in the morning drinking beer – something my the boys haven’t done for months. We then go to McDonalds then and eat greasy burgers.

Four years of training.

Almost seven minutes.

2000 metres.

Success is lovely. Lovely and sweet.