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See that picture up there. Yeah, take a good look. See those black statues around the base. Well the other day I was walking out of work and I thought, for a nanosecond, that they were giant flying monkeys. I’m dead serious.

I know, I know. That’s the kind of crazy that is only reserved for…well, the crazy. But, in my defense, I had worked really hard that day and was kind of tired. Still, flying monkeys is nuts. My heart actually skipped a beat in fear. Yes, but only for a nanosecond.

Well, my younger sister (the one who just had a baby) almost lost her baby because her mother called child protective services. Her mother, the prostitute and drug addict and my abusive ex-stepmother, tried to get her daughter’s child taken away because her daughter is addicted to drugs. We find out that my sister, her daughter, is addicted to drugs because her mother is a sick bitch who pressures her own children to take drugs or else she does things like try to get their kids taken away.

Seriously, the reason for her calling to have the baby taken was because my sister moved in with my dad to get away from her. Thank goodness my dad is a cop. He was able to talk to the case manager and now has temporary custody of the baby until my sister gets out of rehab. She’s going away for 6 months to a facility that she can’t sign herself out of. Only my dad can sign her out per a court order the case manager obtained. Best news ever. The baby is still in the hospital and is coming home next week sometime.

Oh, and my sister is also getting a restraining order on her mother.

Ugh.

One of my babies was sick yesterday. Little Nina was vomiting and squirting the whole day. Baby girl was so upset. Thankfully, I don’t get grossed out easily. I made her drink lots of water and after a few hours of wondering what the hell was going on, it dawned on me that the kittens were eating Stella’s Fancy Feast (Stella won’t eat any other food…I’ve tried). I think the food was too rich for her belly. I got her eating kitten food and she’s been right as rain since.

But, I was scared for a few hours. She’s tiny and only 8 weeks old.

Even more scared than when I saw the giant flying monkeys.

And finally, hold onto your asses…because this is fucking cute. Roslin thinks she thinks she’s the mommy. And Nina and Hayden are going right along with it. Stella Marie is still pissed.*

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*My friend Jason has sympathized with Stella Marie and asked me, “What if one day Stella Marie came home with 3 Debbies? How would you feel?” Point taken. Poor Stella Marie. But she’ll eventually get over it.

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Listen to me tell you all about my mom’s graduation party last Saturday.

Enjoy here.


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That title is really really really long, huh?

I have a lot to say, so I’m going to list it to make it easier on me poor addled sleep-deprived brain.  And it ain’t going to be in the order of the title either. 

  1. Why did I get two kittens?  What are their stories?  Why was I even considering getting 1 kitten when I had two fiercely gorgeous bitches at home?  Because I’m a sucker for a sad story and cuteness, that’s why.  The woman, Bobbie, who had given me Roslin, called me 3 weeks ago in a tizzy, telling me that Roslin’s mother had given birth to a litter in her (Bobbie) neighbor’s lawn mower bag.  Bobbie and the neighbor got the kittens and mommy cat situated in a box on Bobbie’s porch.  All seemed well, until that afternoon.  Her town was having a block party and the motorcycles spooked the mommy cat.  She took one of her babies with her and left the other 3.  If you recall, Roslin and her litter mates were abandoned by the same mommy.  Apparently, she’s extremely skittish.*  Hayden was one of the three abandoned by mommy, Nina was the one kitten that the mommy took.  So, Hayden has been hand-fed since day 1.  Bobbie found Nina walking around the backyard last week and brought her in the house.  When I got there, I was coming for only Hayden.  I wanted a boy cat and Bobbie was holding him for me.  But, then I saw him cuddling with Nina.  She looked up at me and I gasped.  Bobbie told me that she had homes for all of the other kittens, but not for Nina.  I just didn’t think and said, “I’ll take both of the babies.”  And that’s how I became a crazy fucking cat lady.  If someone told me a few years ago that I would have this many animals, I would have laughed in their face.  Damn.
  2. And why aren’t people who have multiple dogs mocked and labeled?  I know a lady with 6 dogs and nobody calls her crazy.  Just sayin.
  3. I have to clean my office.  Bad.  You can’t see the top of my desk because of all of the junk in there.  I’m sure nobody cares that I need to clean my office, but writing it hear seems like a promise to myself.  It’s written down, so now I must do it.  Or something like that.  I’m sure I’ll put it off another week or two.
  4. I think I’m going to start recording podcasts again.  They were fun and maybe I can talk some of my friends and family members to be guests.  I’ll talk my sister into it tonight.  Now, if only I could remember how to post the podcasts…
  5. Oh, and I found a webcam in my desk drawer.  How long have I had it…who the hell knows?  I’m not even sure if it’s a good one.  It’s probably one of those webcams that has a delay by a second or ten and the playback is like watching a record skip.  And the audio is out of time with the visual.  I’ll have to check it out.  Maybe I can show you how big of a bitch Stella Marie is.
  6. Oh, Stella Marie.  She is pissed.  I mean, PISSED!!!!!!!!!!  She is all like, “What the fuck is in that bathroom moving around? Why must you do this to me?  I am a spoiled brat and don’t want to share you with anyone?  It’s bad enough you brought that pain in the ass Roslin home…two more?  Bitch, I will claw you until you scream.”  Roslin is so scared of Stella that I had to accompany her to use the litter box.  Yes, I had to stand there while she pooped and Stella hissed like a fucking mental case.  And let’s not even talk about my lack of sleep because of Stella Marie’s hissing, spitting, yowling, growling, and screaming.  Such. A. Drama. Queen.  I told her yesterday that she might as well get all of that foolishness out of her system right now, because the kitties are staying.  She turned her back to me and walked away growling.  She had dingle-berries on her butt, so that kind of diminished her haughtiness.  Of course, I had to cut them out.  So, I guess in some strange way she won that argument.  She certainly wasn’t wiping my ass.
  7. I have to cook cook cook for my mother’s party tomorrow.  She graduated from college, yay, and we’re throwing a gigantic party.  I hate the prep, but it’s so worth it in the end.  It should be a great time.  I’ll try to take some pictures.  All of my stinkies (Morgan, Connor, Rylee, and Colin) will be there. 
  8. Morgan wants a kitten and is coming to visit me today to see my babies.  My sister-in-law promised that if Morgan made the principle’s list she would be able to get a kitten.  She already told me that she’d name that kitten Keira or Zoe.  I asked her, “What if it’s a boy?”  She cocked her head and gave me a raised brow, “Aunt Debbie, I don’t want a boy cat.  How can I have a secret club for girls and have a boy cat?”  Makes perfect sense.
  9. Blog Drama.  Or better yet, Blogworld Drama or whatever you want to call it.  I’ve read about 5 posts in the past day dealing with it and I’m like, what the hell, and creeped out.  Does anyone take this blog shit (or life!) that seriously?  I mean, come on people.  It’s the one way you can be sure I will lose my interest in your blog, write about blog drama or posts dedicated to haters or whatever.  I used to do that and then I realized that it was retarded.  So retarded.  I have haters and I don’t give a shit if they come to my blog 100 times a day.  Happy reading to all, even the people who hate me.  Maybe that’s why my blog isn’t as popular as it used to be.  I don’t care about the blogdrama crap and I’m certainly not signing up for that club.  It’s so tedious and middle school and I have better things to do, like clean my office or learn ninja moves or poopy-scoop 4 litter boxes or masturbate or clean my bellybutton.  When I read a blog, I want to hear about a person’s days or thoughts on politics or how good he/she were fucked the night before or some creative stories or something that challenges my believe system and makes me go and learn something new…that type of shit.  Who buys into this form of Blogs of Our Lives bullshit?  It’s kind of disturbing.  Stop it.  Stop writing about it.  You’ll be happier.
  10. I just realized that my whole family will be at my mom’s tomorrow for the party.  Oy vey. 

*Mommy cat was fixed last week, thankfully.

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This weekend was one of the busiest and stressful I’ve had in a long time.  My sister and little Colin stayed with me Friday and Saturday nights.  We had my aunt’s memorial yesterday.  I did the eulogy.  It was so emotional, my knees were knocking.

After, my grandmother had people at her house and that’s where the crazies started their shit.  My family is nuts.  I don’t feel like getting into it, because this post would be as long as a book, but let’s just say that it was a contest between my fucked up aunt and grandmother over who could act like the bigger ass.  Instead of the day being about my aunt, it was about them.  How rude!!!  And the worst part was that my fucked up aunt acted like she was so very close to her sister, when the real story was that she never even called my aunt in years.

Today, I got some interesting news about my younger sisters.  Let’s see…remember when my sister had open heart surgery to repair her mitral valve after it was eaten away from a staph infection caused by using dirty needles.  Remember that?  Well, after everything she went through she’s back to doing heroine and crack.  It’s fucking amazing, isn’t it?

And it gets better…

My other sister, the crackhead’s twin, is also doing drugs.  She’s the one who just had the baby.  You know, the baby born with a methadone addiction.  The baby is still in the hospital and my dad has told me that my sister, the mother, has hardly been up at the hospital to take care of the baby.  That’s right, she goes up every other day for about a half hour.  Or she doesn’t go at all for a whole week.  The nurses are taking care of the baby.  The father hasn’t seen the baby since she was born, even though he and my sister are still together and live with each other.  Oh, and child protective services was called by the hospital because of all of this.  The father has also been arrested twice in the past month and he smokes crack.  My dad is filing papers this week to gain temporary custody of the baby so that when she gets out of the hospital she will be taken care of.

This is where it gets sticky.  My dad works two jobs and can’t really take care of a baby.  So, the only other option is that I take the baby.  This is a bit scary.  But, if my sister can’t get her shit together in the next two months it might be the only thing to do.  I hope it doesn’t come down to this, I really want my sister to shape up but I live in reality.  My sisters has been drug addicts for years and I’ve starting to seriously give up hope.

I’ve tried to visit the baby 8 times, but no one can be in her room when her parents aren’t there.  It’s beyond frustrating.  The baby is an innocent and should be loved, not abandoned.

I have a headache.  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.  It’s exhausting and I wish I didn’t care as much as I do.

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My aunt died tonight

It’s weird that I’ve been thinking of bees so much tonight. Tonight. Sophia has taken my aunt to a better place, where the honey drips from every flower petal and there is no pain…just happiness and love and colors and contentment and ancestors and her dogs.

I don’t know what else to write just yet. I’m so sad and my heart is broken. The thing I keep thinking and I’m finding it hard to get past is that I won’t ever hear her voice again. I love her voice, her accent.

You all have been so sweet and kind to me with your words that I just felt like sharing this news.

HONEY ON MY GRAVE

When I am long gone
And I’m cold beneath the clay
Won’t you think of this old song
And put honey on my grave

If I’m covered in sweetness
I surely will be saved
I will live in the golden sun
With honey on my grave

Don’t need no flowers
I don’t need no stone
You can burn me up or bury me whole
I worked this bitter ground all of my days
I believe I’ve earned some honey on my grave

Sister, don’t you mourn me
From heaven I will wave
I don’t need no wailing wall
With honey on my grave

MEDITATION XVII

No man is an island, entire of itself
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were any man’s death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls
it tolls for thee.

I love you Aunt Barb. I’ll see you someday.

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Oh balls.

It’s only Tuesday and I’m beat. Actually, I’m not physically beat but emotionally so.

Let’s get the bad news out of the way first…

My mom was called to TN to be with my aunt. It’s getting close to the end. I spoke with my aunt today and although I’m mourning already I found a bit of peace talking to her and having her tell me that even though that this moment has come so quickly, she’s ready. I told her I loved her and then we hung up because she was exhausted. I spoke with my mom this afternoon and she said that my aunt looks very frail.

My new niece is in the special care unit of the hospital because she’s going through withdrawal from methadone. I knew that my sister was still on methadone therapy resulting from her past heroine addiction. She was about to go off of the methadone right before she found out she was pregnant, but once her doctor found out about the baby he said it would be really dangerous for my sister to stop taking methadone. Now, the baby is going through withdrawal. Lesson to all…don’t take fucking drugs. I’m proud of how far my sister has come, so very very proud, but now we have the baby’s health to worry about. Fingers crossed.

Now, some regular Fresh Air Lover programming…

Remember my telling you all about how my heel has been killing me hardcore for 4 months? No? Then you should pay attention more closely. Anyhow, I ran yesterday and after mile 3 my heel was burning. I finished my last mile and came home to check it out. Looked fine, although who the hell knows what I was looking for. Maybe I thought a small heel-elf was going to pop out of my heel and tell me what was up.

So, fast forward to today and me buying new running sneakers because mine are shot…I was telling the guy at the store about my feet. It’s a store that only sells running gear and everyone who works there is a runner. Okay, back to my feet. I’m telling him about how I have really arches and that I’m a under pronator and explain to him about my heel when he tells me that he had the same problem for about 8 months. I told him that my doctor told me it was plantar fascitis and that I needed better shoes. So, I bought some Brooks running sneakers. Check these beauties out.






Nice, huh? Well, the nice guy also recommended inserts for people with fucked up feet like mine and let me tell you…they are expensive but soooooo worth it. They make my feet feel great. I took a picture of them too.

I’ll see how good my feet feel tomorrow.

I saw Mr. Wood yesterday and today, and…whatever. I still want him, badly, but I’m pissy about it now. I’m not sure what his deal is…stare stare stare at me and yet nothing. I feel like this, and maybe this is why I’m single…if a guy wants to talk to me he’s going to no matter what. Am I nuts to think this way? I need some advice from you beatiful people who read this retarded blog. Should I stop my stubbornness and just say hi to the guy or what? I’m getting cranky about it.

And finally, here’s a picture of my kitties looking out the window of my office. If you don’t like pictures of kitties, come back later. If you like kitties, here are my bad girls.


One more thing, I want to thank DD for sending me some love today.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had some sugar, especially some dark sugar (hmm love that molasses), thrown my way and I really appreciate it.  Even if it was just a text and not the real thing (cue sexy eyes). 

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I’m an auntie again!!!!!!

I want you all to meet Adrianna Rose, born today at 9:48 AM. She weighed in at 8 lbs 4 oz and is 20 inches. Healthy beautiful baby.


Mommy and daddy are doing well and are overflowing with happiness and joy, as is the rest of the family.

At last, some good news.

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There is a tale in Buddhism where a woman’s son has died.  She is filled with grief and goes to her neighbors begging them for medicine that will save her son, bring him back.  One of the neighbors refers her to Buddha.  She goes to him and begs him to save her son.  Buddha instructs her to bring him some mustard seed, but there’s a catch to this.  She must get her mustard seed only from a family where no son, daughter, father, or mother has died.  The woman goes from house to house and they all had mustard seed, but she found no family that had not lost a loved one.  Learning the grief of death is experienced by all, she takes her son into the forest and buries him.  She then goes back to Buddha and he offers her some of his wisdom.

My aunt is in the hospital.  I found out last night that she will not be coming to visit this week because she’s in so much pain.  Now, the hospital.  They admitted her today.  She was in so much pain that there was no way they could give her morphine and send her home.  It seems like her kidneys are shutting down too.  She’s having trouble urinating and this has resulted in an infection.  It’s only a matter of time before she gets called to be with her father and her beloved dog and many of the others who have passed before her.  I don’t want her to suffer anymore.  I want her to be in peace.

I wish they could take parts from me to use on her to make her better.  I’m strong.  I’m healthy.  I can handle it.  Take anything you want from me.

My aunt is my godmother.  She is my other mother.  She is a beautiful soul.  She has a heart made of gold, sweetness, love, comfort, and generosity.  She is not supposed to be taken from us…not just now…not this way.  My children were supposed to know her.

I’ll find a way to keep her legend alive.  I’ll find a way to keep her spirit alive for the future generations.

Right now, I’m the woman in the story with my mustard seed.

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I had one of the most mundane wonderful weekends ever. I love the low excitement, regular life stuff.

I took Friday off to do spring cleaning. I cleaned my whole place and my porch. I bought a new shower curtain and rugs for the bathroom. I bought a new springtime flag and a pretty sign to hang on my door that say “Love to all who enter here”. Yes, I’m corny like that. Here are some pictures.


Yesterday, I bought some birdseed and wild animal feed.  I spread it around the front and side yard and have enjoyed watching the squirrels and birds go crazy.  I like feeding the wildlife.  Some people get pissed off about it, but I say screw them.  It makes me happy to hear the birds chirping and the squirrels fed.

I did laundry this morning and I have to say, probably for the 1000’th time, that I hate the laundry mat.  Hate hate hate it..  I do my laundry every two weeks.  This includes clothing, towels, and sheets.  I usually take up about 6 washers.  I get there today and it’s crazy busy.  I load up the washers and sit down to wait.  A younger man and his mother are loading up dryers near me and he starts yelling at her.  Calling her a fucking liar and how if she died he wouldn’t fucking care.  He kept repeating, “I wouldn’t even fucking care.”  I shot him a dirty look which he caught.  After a while, I loaded the dryers and sat back down.  A young Mexican woman sat down next to me with a baby.  I smiled at her and she smiled at me.  I happy to inform you, my wonderful readers, that she had her canine teeth capped with vampire fangs that had gold stripes going down them.  Fucking classy, right?

My aunt got some bad news recently.  I seems that some of her tumors have grown.  She’s been in a lot of pain and they put her on morphine.  I’ve been around cancer to know what this means.  She’s coming to NJ to visit in two weeks and I have to make the most of the visit.  I have to be honest with myself and admit that it might be the last time I see her.

I’m watching No Country for Old Men and it’s good, except I’ve come to realize that the older I get the more I can’t deal with these violent movies.  I don’t want to watch them, it makes me sick and disturbs me.  And I can’t take all of the animals being killed.  I know they really weren’t killed, but I don’t want to think about it.

I suppose my sister is doing okay.  I haven’t heard anything.  My dad hasn’t called me since she got out of the hospital.  I guess he doesn’t need me.  I asked him to give me her address and a telephone number where I could reach her.  And I’m still waiting.  Nice, huh?

And lastly, I hate cell phones.  I hate when people call me on my cell to tell me stupid shit or to just talk.  I have a home line and when I’m not home, leave me a fucking message.  Unless it’s an emergency or if you need me to pick something up for you or something like that, there is no reason to disturb me while I’m shopping or driving.  I have no desire to talk on the phone in front of strangers.  Again, leave a message on my home answering machine and I’ll call you back.  I know it’s old school, but I like it that way.

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My sister had surgery this morning. They were about to repair her mitral valve, so that’s a great thing. I’ve spoken to my sister and dad, and they say that the doctors are optimistic about her recovery. Let’s just hope that Jennifer is able to find the strength to love herself and change her life.

I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept very well since last week. I feel a bit better now that my sister is stable and at a good place. I’m going to see her later. Hopefully, I’ll sleep good tonight.

I wanted to thank everyone who left comments and sent me emails with well wishes. I appreciate it more than I can say.

In other news, I saw a dead kitty on the side of the road on the way home today and started crying like nut. Stressed out much? I need Calgon.

Today’s exhalation: Life is too short for work drama. Leave me be.

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