Working for the weekend

Well, we are on the leading edge of the weekend. My stress level is nearing critical maximum.

My firm finally crept up out of the Dark Ages and decided to pay us by Direct Deposit. Well, wouldn't you know it, they deposited my paycheck in THE WRONG ACCOUNT! I just got off the phone with HR and they assured me they'd have a wire transfer to me within the half hour. We'll see.

This is NOT a good thing to hear when in just a few hours my husband and I will be hauling four boys 300 miles away for a weekend at my mother's house. We are going to be so busy tomorrow, it ain't even funny. We have a Civil War reenactment, a town's centennial celebration (including a carnival), and a minor league baseball game to attend (and I've already bought and paid for the tickets). All this AND a birthday to worry about (Joshua, Mr. Brady's youngest, turns 11 tomorrow).

It's a good thing I colored my hair last night (actually, Mr. Brady colored it for me - ain't he sweet?), or I'd be completely gray right now. I'm only 32 years old!

Actually, having just typed all that, I feel a lot better now. Isn't it something how just letting it all out can help you see things a little clearer? Recently Jeff blogged about his own battle with complaining. Sometimes, and this is just my own opinion, complaining a little isn't so bad... just as long as it isn't excessive. A bit of a grumble here or there can actually be theraputic, just to let the bad feelings out. The important thing is to let it out, then let it go.

Have a great weekend. Happy Father's Day, if it applies to you.

Setting fire to the sh*t list

Have you ever hated anything or anyone? I mean, really hated - deep down in your gut? I don't mean something you merely dislike. I don't mean someone who annoys you. I don't mean someone who grates on your nerves. I don't mean somebody who pisses you off.

I'm talking about hate.

From en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hate:
Hate [or hatred] is an emotion of intense revulsion,
distaste, enmity, or antipathy for a person, thing, or phenomenon; a desire to avoid, restrict, remove, or destroy its object. (Emphasis mine)

Well, stand by. I am about to scare you.

I hate. My hate is so intense that every time I think about this person, my skin crawls. I feel physically ill and want to throw up. My jaw tightens. My eye twitches. My pulse quickens. My head throbs.

From "Walt Disney's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea"
Captain Nemo: Do you know the meaning of love, professor?
Professor Aronnax: I believe I do.
Nemo: What you fail to understand is the power of hate. It can
fill the heart as surely as love can.
Aronnax: I'm sorry for you. That's a bitter substitute.

Bitter, indeed.

I know that it's not very Zen-like of me to hate, but I do. I have tried for seven long years to let go of this hate, but I have not yet been successful. This hate is directed toward my ex-husband.

These seven years we have been divorced, all because of the evil he unleashed. He does not make waves very often, but when he does, my little illusion of sanity goes out the window.

"Let it go," I've been told. Easier said than done. If I had my wish, he'd disappear from my life and my children's lives forever. He only makes token attempts at visitation. Do you know how many times he visited the children last year? He visited twice. TWICE.

He is only allowed four hours of visitation at a time, so that's a total of EIGHT HOURS over a span of 365 days.

He averages visiting them 2 to 3 times a year. At four hours a pop, one can hardly call that "attempting to forge a relationship with his children."

In my eyes, they're not even his children. To them, he is nothing more than a sperm donor. We separated (by order of the court, mind you) when the kids were still infants. He was physically abusive, if you haven't guessed by now.

The only father my boys have ever truly known is my husband, Mike. Mike knows more about these kids than my ex will ever know.

But back to the original topic. I hate the ex. I hate him for a lot of reasons. The main reason, at least for now, is that he won't let us try to move forward with our lives. He keeps stirring things up, and it's over stupid shit. He asked me to send him a Father's Day card! Yeah, so he can wave it around to his buddies and act like he's Father of the Year or something.

Sure, I'll send him a Father's Day card... right after I've wiped the dog's ASS with it! Heh, maybe I should send him a big ol' dog turd as a bonus gift.

Ah, I feel a little better after that thought. I'd love to see him chow down on a shit sandwich three times a day for the rest of his life, though.

And after that, I want world peace.

I am working harder on healing this very black and ugly scar on my heart. I thought at first that I could treat it like a cancer and simply cut it out, but that didn't work. It has to heal. There will always be some sort of reminder scar there, but I need to heal the wound.

One part of Zen for which I am grateful is that feelings in and of themselves are not bad. They're neither good nor bad... they just are. We experience them but we must let them go as quickly as they come over us. It's like waves upon a beach. The wave crashes on the sand. The wave totally consumes the sand - tearing down whatever castles or designs were there. But the wave leaves quickly. The sand assumes a new shape... but its nature has not changed. The sand is still sand. The waves are never the same, but the sand remains constant.

Shit happens. No matter how rigid you've made your schedule, no matter how strong you've built your house, shit's gonna happen sooner or later. It's a fact of life. When the shit happens, we're not going to be happy about it. That's just our nature. We're bound to feel anger, sadness, confusion, disappoinment, grief, rage, hate... whatever. We're humans, not stone statues.

When those feelings flow through us, it's important for us to recognize the feelings. Experience them fully. But then we've got to let them go. We can't be perpetual mourners. We can't stay pissed off at the world. We can't wallow in an eternal pity party. We - I - can't hate forever.

I know this.

I'm working on it... in more ways than one.

Zhi gave me some powerful advice. He said, "Let this person go ... his nature isn't ultimately to harm people - he is, after all, a Buddha - but he lives in delusion. He doesn't know himself and it causes great pain ... pain that he takes out on others. Don't let yourself be pulled into his samsaric world any longer."

I talked to an attorney yesterday. Somehow or another, I am going to turn the last page on this chapter and be done with it.

Oh, happy day.

News Flash

This is Eyewitness News. I'm Galen Brannagh and you're not.

Here's our second edition of News Flash, as inspired by Jeff.

News: Two Tennesseans are creeping up in the presidential race.

Fred Thompson – lawyer, actor, politician – is msking a strong showing on the Republican side. Not only does he ooze Southern gentility and charm, he also has enough Hollywood charisma and Reagan-ish horse sense and appeal to be a serious contender. I remember him from his lawyer days as the man who defended Marie Ragghianti against the State of Tennessee in her groundbreaking whistleblower case. For that and other things, he has my admiration. I’m not exactly in love with his personal life, but I guess I’m one of the few people who don’t vote for candidates based on their personal lives. I’m also not a Republican.

Nor am I a Democrat, but another Tennessean has been putting a dent in the Democratic presidential numbers: Al Gore. Now that he’s given everyone a serious wake-up call with “An Inconvenient Truth,” the Live Earth concert and his newest book, “An Assault on Reason,” people are taking him much more seriously than they did in 2000. He’s not necessarily the boring lecturer everyone thought he was. AND, he’s gaining interest from independents and even people from the Green party. Even more people support him because they dislike Hillary Clinton and are leery of Barack Obama. All this - and Gore isn’t even officially a presidential candidate (yet).

It will be interesting to see how well these two fare. Wouldn’t it be neat to see one Tennessean versus another in the final race?

Entertainment: Watched “Instinct” starring Anthony Hopkins and Cuba Gooding, Jr. last night. It was the first time I’d ever seen it. I had a Zen moment when Hopkins’ character said that we humans needed to give up dominion over the earth. I realized that we never really had it. We take something that isn’t ours to take in the first place.

Work: Everything is the same, work wise. I log in, I review my list of cases, I research, I draw up necessary documents, I submit my work to the attorney. It could be a lot worse.

Spirit: My teacher Zhi has been very helpful and very patient to listen to my concerns and fears. He continues to help me see things in ways that I had not considered. He also gave me an assignment: to start a dream journal. I now keep a journal beside my bed and when I awake, I write down any dreams that I remember. This is in an effort to gain insight and dump the baggage that’s accumulated over the years.

Thought for today: “When the window was dirty, the man couldn’t see through it; when the window was clean, he couldn’t see the window. The beauty of the window was that he couldn’t see it. The beauty of the Zen mind is that it causes no interference.”

Family: Next weekend in Mr. Brady’s youngest son’s 11th birthday. We will all be going to my mother’s house in Middle Tennessee. That weekend, my hometown will also be having its centennial celebration. Among the various festivities, the Sons of the Confederacy, along with a group of Civil War re-enactors will be having a military funeral for my great-grandfather. Yes, you read that right – there’s only one “great.” My grandfather’s father fought in the Civil War! How is that possible? My grandfather turns 97 next month. His father was 70 YEARS OLD when my granddaddy was born. You do the math. The Sons of the Confederacy are going to be giving some sort of special recognition to my granddaddy, since he is a direct descendant of a Civil War veteran. He’s a rare bird, indeed.

Love: Mr. Brady was absolutely precious to me this weekend. Of course, he always is. He brushed my hair and braided it for me Friday night (I LOVE when he brushes my hair). Last night for supper I fixed tomatoes and okra, among other things, and he absolutely loves tomatoes and okra. He told me that I had the way to a man’s heart down-pat. Tater told me I was “the bestest cooker in the whole world” and that he and I should open a restaurant. Awww! I have been bad and haven’t gotten anything for Mr. Brady for Father’s Day yet, but I have made a card for him.

Anxiety: My ex-husband. Indications are that he’s up to something. I am working on my own plan to head him off at the pass. I have an appointment with an attorney this afternoon. I would do this pro se (represent myself), but he has more money than I do and I don’t feel comfortable enough to go on my own against a lawyer in court. If I’ve read Tennessee Code Annotated correctly, however, the laws are in my favor. Statutorily, I’ve already won the case.

Sports: Rags to Riches won the Belmont Stakes yesterday in horse racing. She’s the first filly to win at Belmont since 1905. She’s also the first filly to have raced at Belmont in 8 years. You GO, Girl! Todd Pletcher, her trainer, said, "It's a special feeling to do it with a filly." I’m sure it is. Ahem.

Home: Not much work done to the house this week. Mr. Brady’s been working on his workshop out back – building up the foundation.

That’s all the news that’s fit to print this week. Thanks for joining us.

In love with green glass

Overheard on a Salmarsh
by Harold Monro

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?

Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?

Give them me.

No.

Give them me. Give them me.

No.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.

Give me your beads, I want them.

No.

I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give them me. Give them.

No.

You might be wondering what is the green thing in the background of my "KudZen" image at the top of this blog. You might also be wondering what is the green thing in my "About Me" avatar.

Well, they have to do with a passion of mine - collecting glass.

Some people collect certain patterns of depression glass - so called because it was manufactured during the years of the Great Depression. Some of this glass is worth a lot of money. A LOT of money. I've seen a picture of a cream pitcher that is valued in the thousands. Wow.

I'm not one of those collectors. The glass I'm after isn't depression. It isn't carnival glass or elegant glass or any sort of antique. Mine will probably never ever be valued in the thousands. None of my individual pieces will likely ever be valued even in the hundreds.

I collect two patterns of glass from the 50s and 60s. I love it for two reasons:

1. My grandmother had some tumblers in the first pattern I collect and I have fond memories of my grandmother and those halcyon days of my youth.

2. The second pattern is of the same glass colors and I (and my husband) just think it looks cool.

So, what types of glass do I collect?

The first pattern is called El Dorado. (Kinda cool, isn't it? In Search of El Dorado) It was part of the Hazelware collection, manufactured by the Continental Can Co. glass plant in Clarksburg, West Virginia (which was bought by the Brockway Co. in the early 1970s). The El Dorado pattern consists of dots raised on the inside of the glass. The outside is smooth. It was produced in two colors - Avocado (green) and Granada Gold (amber). I collect the Avocado glass, but I have a few pieces of the Granada Gold, too.

Here's what it looks like:

In this pattern, I have the dessert set (large 9 inch bowl and 6 smaller "berry" bowls), the chip & dip set, 2 large pitchers, 1 small juice pitcher, console bowl and 2 candleholders, candy dish and lid, juice tumblers, old-fashioned tumblers, water tumblers, and highball tumblers. I have found one of the large "iced tea" tumblers (pictured above), but it's the only one I've found. Those glasses are the most elusive. I just can't seem to find them anywhere. (If you have any of these you don't mind getting rid of or would be interested in selling, PLEASE let me know!)

The second glass was made by Libbey and it was discontinued in 1957. It's called "Ripple," and it consists of raised ripples on the inside of the glass. Again, the outside is smooth. It was made in a variety of colors. I only have a couple of pieces in amber which they called "Golden Smoke."

I recently discovered that Continental Can Co - Hazelware - also made tumblers very similar to this pattern. I can't find out what it was called. Here's what they look like in green:

I don't know what it is about all this glass, but it is very soothing to me, especially the green glass. Perhaps it brings back the wonderful presence of my grandmother - the way she used to hug me and how she'd sit on the front porch and watch me play in the the front yard. I'd often tie one of her aprons around me and play in her flower beds.

I love the way this glass catches the light. I love looking into it and seeing the depth. It's almost like looking into water. It's beautiful. Mesmerizing.

So, am I the nymph or am I the goblin? I think it's a little of both.

Homemade Ice Cream, or How to Win Friends and Influence Children

Sum-sum-summertime. Swimming. Catching lightning bugs. Running barefoot through the sprinkler. Growing tomatoes. Eating homemade ice cream. These are the summertime experiences I cherish from my youth. I want my own children to share those same experiences.

If you have children, I encourage you to get an ice cream maker. A REAL one - not one of those kinds that has the bowls that you chill in the freezer and then add ingredients and spin. No, I'm talking about the kind where you have to use ice and rock salt. A REAL ice cream maker. They aren't expensive. You can get a one-gallon ice cream maker at Wal-Mart for under $20. I promise you'll get your investment back, and then some.

So many people are afraid to use these things and they really have nothing to fear. All it takes is a few simple ingredients, a big bag of ice, a box of rock salt, and in twenty minutes you can experience the magic of thermodynamics for yourself. Your kids will worship you because You Can Make Ice Cream!

HOW TO MAKE ICE CREAM
1. Get an ice cream maker. As I mentioned above, Wal-Mart - under 20 bucks
2. Get the ingredients. See below

Aunt Galen's Homemade Ice Cream
2 cans sweetened condensed milk (like Eagle Brand)
4 eggs
1 cup sugar
2 tsp. vanilla extract or vanilla flavoring
1 small box Jello Sugar Free Instant Pudding, your choice of flavor (this is my SECRET ingredient! I used Cheesecake flavor in the batch I made last night and OH MY GAWD, it is soooooooooooooooooooo good. Orgasmically good. Trust me on this.)
1 quart Half and Half (this is important to make your ice cream "creamy")
1 gallon whole milk (not skim, not 2%. WHOLE milk)
1 16-lb. bag of ice
1 box rock salt (also sold as "ice cream salt")

Mix sweetened condensed milk, eggs, sugar, vanilla and pudding mix in a large bowl until well blended. Pour into ice cream freezer can. Pour in the entire quart of Half and Half. Add enough whole milk to reach the "fill" line of the freezer can.

Insert the dasher (the mixing paddle) into the freezer can and put the lid on. Set the freezer can into the large bucket.

Put a good 2 inches of ice in the large bucket, around the freezer can. Top with a thin layer of rock salt - enough to cover the ice. STOP! Do not add any more ice!

Attach the motor to the top of the freezer can and latch to the large bucket. (Your ice cream maker will come with an instruction booklet that explains how to do this.) Plug in the motor to start the freezer can rotation.

Now you can add more ice. Add another layer of ice, then another layer of rock salt. Keep adding the layers until the large bucket is completely full - covering the top of the freezer can.

As the ice cream churns, the ice will begin to melt. Keep adding ice and salt so that the top of the freezer can remains covered. When the motor quits running, the ice cream is finished churning. It should take about 20 minutes. When it's finished, it should look like this:You could eat this right now, but it will be quite runny. It's better to "ripen" the ice cream. Here's how:

Remove the dasher from the freezer can. Go ahead and give it to the kids so they can lick it off, or else they will pester you to death. Or, you can do what I do - give it to your husband and let HIM fight the kids for it.

Next, remove the freezer can from the bucket of ice. Drain off the water from the bucket and dump the ice.

Put the freezer can back in the bucket and replace its lid. PLUG THE HOLE IN THE LID WITH THE CORK THAT CAME WITH THE ICE CREAM MAKER! If you don't, then you'll get salt in your ice cream and it will be ruined.

Repack ice around the freezer can in the large bucket with ice and rock salt at about 3 parts ice to 1 part salt. Fill the bucket completely, covering the top of the freezer can. Cover the top of the bucket with a towel for insulation.

Allow the ice cream to "ripen" for AT LEAST 30 minutes. An hour is even better, but I know it's tough to keep anxious kids and a husband settled for that long, but do try.

NOW, you can enjoy real homemade ice cream.

You don't do heavy metal in Dubly, you know...

It happens to us all at some time or another. You know, when you know what you wanted to say but you either can't think of the correct word or you just slip up and say something else instead... or you just don't know what in the hell you're talking about but still want to sound like you do. Jeanine did it in "This is Spinal Tap," saying "Dubly" instead of Dolby in reference to how Tap's "Smell the Glove" album sounded.

Well, it's happened twice in as many days at my house and, of course, it's been hilarious.

Two evenings ago at supper, Tater (my youngest son and resident chatterbox) was talking about something that had absolutely nothing to do with anything anybody else was saying, as usual. He looked at me and asked if I could sing "that slipper song."

"What 'slipper' song do you mean, son?" I inquired.

"You know the one, Mom. About the SLIPPERS!" His frustration grew and he gave me that exasperated 'how could you be so DUMB, Mom' look and rolled his eyes at me.

I racked my brain, trying to recall perhaps a children's song about Cinderella or something. No luck.

"I still don't know the one you're talking about, Tater."

We went back and forth at this a few more times, until he finally gave me a better clue.

"You know, Mom. 'Don't step on the blue slippers.'" He matter-of-factly replied.

"OH! Do you mean 'Blue Suede Shoes?' 'Don't step on my blue suede shoes?'" I did my best to hold back the chuckles. My husband was already on the verge of tears.

Well, you can burn my house
Steal my car
Drink my liquor from an old fruit jar
You can do anything that you wanna do
But, uh-uh, Honey, lay off of them shoes
Now, don't you step on my blue suede slippers...

I wouldn't mind a pair of those, myself.

Last night at supper (is this a pattern we see developing?), we were having lasagna and garlic bread. Mr. Brady's oldest son, 12-year-old Jon, kept asking for "vinegar."

"Can I have another piece of vinegar?"

Vinegar? A piece of vinegar?

"Do you mean a piece of garlic bread, Jon?" I inquired.

"Yes. Garlic bread. Can I have some?"

How in the world he got "vinegar" from garlic bread, I'm sure I'll never know.

Hey, it was funny at the time! I guess it would have sounded better in Dubly.

News Flash - First Edition

Okay, I got this idea from Jeff over at Psychosomatic Wit, a popular blog I've recently discovered. Here is how it works:

"NEWS FLASH is basically news or thoughts that may be changing over time - an update or an evolution of thought that covers a multiple of topics. It is what makes a blogger tick and it is the reason why we read. So, with that in mind, I came up with NEWS FLASH as an acronym that stands for what is going on in life:

• News (or current events)


• Entertainment (movies, TV, celebrity, etc.)


• Work (thoughts on the job or employer)


• Spirit (thoughts on God and/or the supernatural)


• Family (or friends)


• Love


• Anxiety (a rant or a trouble)


• Sports (those who have no interest in sports can be creative such as contests, reality tv, recreation, cards, games), and


• Home (house, yard, or even another family type of thought."

I thought, "Hey, I could do that!" It might actually be easier than memes like the Thursday Thirteen, where you have to pull a top 13 list of some sort out of thin air or some other lists where you end up having to search for people to tag. Sure, those things are fun but after a while you end up answering some of the same questions over again. No, this one is down and dirty. Just the facts, ma'am.

So here goes. This is Eyewitness News. I'm Galen Brannagh and you're not.

NEWS: The big news around here is the Tennessee State Trooper who pulled over a speeding motorist near Lebanon, TN. Turns out that the speeder was a porn actress. The trooper spied some booze and painkillers in her car. She turned on the tears and told him about her career. Even showed him her porn blog on his in-car computer. Well, Mr. Trooper got randy and he and the "actress" got busy out in the woods. He even got it on video! He threw away her pills and said he wouldn't say anything about them... but he STILL GAVE HER A SPEEDING TICKET! She put the video of their sexcapade on her blog. He, dumbass that he is, started bragging to his buddies about it and showed them the video! One of his "buddies" blew the whistle. Mr. Trooper is now on suspension, pending investigation. The "actress," the creatively named Barbie Cummings, is enjoying the increased traffic on her website (pun intended).

ENTERTAINMENT: I would say "see above," but that's pretty obvious. Last night, my husband, our four boys and I played "Win, Lose, or Draw." The teams were: him and his boys vs. me and my boys. They beat us, 57-43. It was a lot of fun! My youngest son, "Tater," had to draw a shell. He drew a sort of curly line and I had no idea what it was. He then looked at me in a complete deadpan and said, "Meow." I said, "Gary!" (You know, Spongebob's pet sea snail.) I then said, "Snail!" "Sea Snail!" "Seashell!" "Shell!" Just his "meow" was precious and hilarious. I guess you had to be there.

WORK: Still working from home, still glad for the opportunity. My kids are out of school for summer break and I get to be home with them instead of packing them off to a daycare center to let somebody else raise my children.

SPIRIT: I am progressing in my own journey. I formally took refuge this year. Teaching for today: "A wise man once said that the whole of life comes from closing down all accounts and not opening up any new ones. Desire nothing. Collect no treasures that you wouldn't give away in a moment, and peace will fill you."

FAMILY: All the kids are here this week - my two boys and my husband's two boys and youngest daughter. The boys are having a fantastic time, especially in the swimming pool. We have one of those soft-sided pools that rises as you fill it up with water. His oldest boy, age 12, is attending a science day-camp at his school all week and I have to pick him up every afternoon at 3:00.

LOVE: Our one-year wedding anniversary is this month. I saved our cake topper in the freezer. I don't know if it will taste any good, but we'll find out on the 24th. Still can't believe we've been married a year. Mr. Brady and I are still very much in love. He looks at me with those loving eyes, even when I look like a haint. He still gets a laugh out of my "Southernisms."

ANXIETY: Mr. Brady's kids. In the interest of upholding the Third Step of the Eightfold Path, I won't go into a lot of detail here. I'm working on letting go of the anxiety. Om shanti shanti shanti.

SPORTS: It isn't football season yet. My beloved Tide have a new coach - Nick Saban, former head coach for the Miami Dolphins. Let's hope he can keep his job for a while.

HOME: We are still in the process of completing the addition to our house. We've finished the new laundry room (YAY!) and the new hallway is almost done. Next up: my new office. THAT will be sweet. I have a container garden of tomatoes, cucumbers and zucchini. I can hardly wait for those 'maters to come in!

That's it for this week's News Flash. Good night and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Resurrection

Once upon a time, I had a blog. It was a friendly enough place, easy to read. Bits of humor here and there, commentaries on life as a new stepmom and play-by-plays on How (not) to Blend a Family. I even made some friends.

Then, I deleted the blog, abandoned the friends. Sh*t happened and, boy, did I get a big, nasty dose of it. I found out that, indeed, the Brady Bunch are just a fantasy. Thanks a lot, Sherwood Schwarz. I have earned my ugly stepmother wart. No matter how hard I tried to be nice, caring, loving, and so-sweet-even-Miss-Melly-would-be-jealous, sh*t happened. And happened. And happened. Of course, I took it all personally. It was my fault that the kids didn't get along with me. It was my fault that some of them refused to accept the marriage. It was my fault that the teenagers were rebelling.

BUT...

Through the miracle of the Soundless Sound, I am bouncing back. I have taken refuge in my faith and am beginning to realize that the sh*t isn't my fault! I can't take responsibility for other people's problems anymore.

Slowly, I'm letting all the sh*t go. Why, I hear you ask, did I want to hold on to it in the first place? Wouldn't we all like to know! Nevertheless, I did hold on to it. Heck, I wallowed in it. But no more.

Now I am back, or at least I'm making the effort. A friend gave me a huge shot in the arm and I am eternally grateful to know that SOMEBODY CARED! Thank you, my friend.

So, here we go with Phase II of The Brady Project. Galen's back... and this time, it's for real.