Folks who know Scott and me, know that we are reality show junkies. We are addicted and I am not ashamed of that – most of the world loves to watch people making asses of themselves to get some prize money. I don’t watch all reality TV, only a few – The Amazing Race (our favorite), Survivor, Big Brother – those are the CBS shows. We also tune into The Apprentice, American Idol and lately Treasure Hunters. Right now the big one on is Big Brother 7 – and we have watched every year (except the second). This year they have brought back previous players of Big Brother and have put the 14 most popular back into the house! It’s the Big Brother All Stars! They put a few people into the house who make my skin crawl – good TV. These are the people who are willing to lie, cheat and manipulate their way to the end of the show and the prize money. Let me recap for you all what happened this past week on BB7 – the skinny wanna-be cop, James, won Head of Household and decided he wanted to play the “safe card” by putting up Chicken George and Dr. Will for the rest of the house guests to vote off. There is a veto that can be won by one of the two up for eviction to save them from the vote out. Others play the veto game as well – to ensure the two up for eviction stay there. It was a “how far would you go to win” veto competition. The first thing the six gamers had to do was take off their shirts and shorts and throw them into the pit of fire. If a person doesn’t want to do the task, they have failed and are no longer able to compete for the veto. All six gladly took off their clothes and burned them. Next was a bowl of big brother mush (edible oatmeal kind of stuff that tastes really, really bad). They had to clean the bowl without spitting (or vomiting) the mush out. Dr. Will couldn’t handle this task and threw in the white towel. After everyone finished their mush it was on to the blueberry bath. You’d think – aww, blueberry bath – that’s nothing! When they uncovered the bath tub full of mashed blueberries it looked nasty and each gamer dunking in looked grossed out. The five blue veto contestants were ready for the next level of the game. It was time for the other houseguests (the ones not playing the veto game) to write all over the houseguests playing for the veto. All five allowed the other houseguests to write all over them. The next level of the game called for the veto competers to shave their head! Three of the players dropped out leaving Chicken George (one of the two up on the block), and Kaysar who is playing to get George out of the house. They both were shaved and looked fabulous! The tie breaker was how many days they would endure the Big Brother mush – Chicken George won the veto with 60! Good for you Chicken George!

At the veto cermony Chicken George and Dr. Will sat in their “up for eviction” seats. Dr. Will made this giant speech about how much he hated every single person in the house, and if they weren’t smart enough to kick him out he would make their lives in the house hell. He was using the old tell ‘em you hate ‘em so that they’ll keep you around long enough to win the prize money. BTW – Dr. Will was the winner of Big Brother 2. He’s pretty much playing the same game he did then and getting the same response he did then – they all love him (go figure). Chicken George stood up and gave a speech about how being in the house is their second chance and whatnot, how they should be proud and play the game this time around better and smarter. Chicken George brought everyone to the verge of tears! His speech was a good one – but coming in the aftermath of mister “I hate you all”’s speech… well, it sounded lame. Although, George got what he aimed for with his speech and his fight for the veto – respect. The skinny wanna-be cop had to replace Chicken George for possible eviction, and he put up pretty boy Jase. Jase was so pissed off that he went ranting and raving all over the back yard. Dork! Had he not acted like that, he would have had a better chance – but he did and his actions paid off when the vote came in 9 to zero. Jase left the house with his head hung low.

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What I just cannot understand, here you have two guys (Jase and Dr. Will). One of them is more or less a good guy – a liar, yes, but a friendly liar. Then you have the evil Dr. Will (and I know he loves that title) who proclaims to the entire house his hate for them. In the end the house votes out the friendly liar in an unanimous vote… What am I missing? Jase is gone and the houseguests competed for the new head of house with a Q and A quiz. The straw haired boobala vixen won – her Big Brother 6 alliance has been head of house for four weeks straight! We will be tuning in tonight to see who the boobala puts up for eviction – if she doesn’t put up the evil doctor – I don’t know… I just don’t get it.

I’ll keep watching, no matter what. I am a “both” person, I love to hate ‘em and I hate to love ‘em… Yeah, I don’t quite get it either…

Tuesday, July 25th, my mother had to be at the hospital at 5:30 in the morning for surgery on her back – ouchy! What was painful for me was waking up at 3:30 to get myself ready for a very long day and get over to my mother’s house by 5:00. I was having a slow-moving morning at 3:30, my body was protesting this early stimulation of having to move and get going. I did make it to my mother’s place by like 5:05 and then we were off! The hospital is pretty close – in the same town where she lives, so it wasn’t a long drive there. She checked in and we were escorted – along with another couple – by the candy-striper up to the second floor. As we stepped off the elevator the candy-striper stopped the four of us and like the good tour guide that she was said, “This is where we stop and the folks having surgery will go this way,” she pointed to her left (our right). “and the folks not having surgery will have a seat over there.” she pointed to her right (our left). The candy striper then instructed us, who were not having surgery, to take all the belongings from those having surgery. After about two mintues of taking off jewlery and figuring what needed to go and what needed to stay, the surgeriers (made-up word) followed the candy striper into the locked ward of prepness (another made-up word). The guide slash candy striper stopped and looked back to give us one more bit of information, “You could be here anywhere from ten to thirty minutes waiting.” and off they went. I looked over at the husband and he looked over at me and said, “Well, I guess we wait.” I replyed, “I guess so.” We walked over to the deserted waiting area – it is huge! We were the only two there, and most of the lights were off except one lone light over our little sitting area – of course we choose to sit there! Sitting in the dark might not be too much fun… or might put us to sleep. The husband and I chatted a bit, I learned that his wife was having knee replacement surgery and he learned that my mother was having back surgery. It was time to open the People magazine and start reading! The husband got ahold of the morning paper and was enjoying that. A nurse came out and called him back, she looked at me and said, “Are you Norma’s daughter?” I looked around like “duh… yeah.” but felt that was not appropriate and simply smiled and said that I was. The nurse assured me it would be just a few more minutes and they would come get me. Back to the magazine…

Finally I was fetched by a nurse and led into the tiny prep room where they seemed to be holding my mother until the doctor arrived. She was all set to go with her IV in place (successful on the second poke!) and her little blue beanie hat atop her head. They had placed a few of those yummy warm blankets over her body and she looked snug. The wait from that point was long and dull, nothing really to talk about and nothing to look at. I read some of the magazine between long intervals of yawning. I finally had to go to the bathroom – and wouldn’t you know that was the exact time they came to wheel her into the operating room! I was just washing my hands when the nurse banged on the door yelling, “They are taking her now!” The urgent sound in her voice told me they couldn’t wait half a second while I dried my hands. I grabbed a paper towel and pretty much ran out of the bathroom. There everyone was looking at me, waiting for me to say… what? I had no idea what to say. The akwardness of the whole situation was intense, and the only thing I could get out was, “Well, okay. I’ll see you later….okay….bye….alright….” and no one moved. I figured I wasn’t saying the “key” words to get everything rolling down to the operating room. I waited in slience for a second and then they started moving again. I couldn’t help but to think, “They rushed me out of the bathroom for this?” I could have washed my hands a few times and still had time to come out to tell my mother I’d see her later. Finally, a little more than two hours after arriving at the hospital, my mother was off and soon her back will feel a lot better!

It was just about seven hours after arriving to the hospital when my mother was wheeled, sleepy, out of recovery and into her room, where she would spend the next two days in a really doped-up state. Every time I walked in she was either in bed with her head back and mouth open, asleep, or sitting in the chair – head back, mouth open and asleep. Yesterday, July 27th, was her first day of alertness. Although, when I walked into her room she was sitting in the chair, head back, mouth open and asleep! I looked over to Scott (he and Sammy come in with me each morning to say, “hello” and then leave) and said, “Nope, she never changes.” She opened her eyes and seemed to be alert and doing pretty good. She complained of being in the chair all morning, so I called the nurse to come and help her back into bed. As soon as the CNA arrived and called for help my mother changed her mind and wanted to stay in the chair – until lunch was over… We now know what is more important – Pain vs Food… Yeah, food is the winner here. Although, the little IV button connected to the pain medication was pushed so that she could indure the pain and eat lunch. After lunch she wanted back in bed and it was soon thereafter the PT (physical thearapist) walked in and asked her to get up and go for a short walk. The timing was almost comical.

Back in bed and sleepy from the exercise, full belly, and more exercise. Her doctor came in and seemed shocked that all her tubes (IV, catheter, drain) were still in. He said strongly, “They should have been pulled at nine this morning!” The nurses – who hadn’t been in to check on my mother the entire time I had been there – jumped to it and started removing things. The doctor said my mother would be moved to the Rehab Unit for the next week or so. It was interesting to watch the nurses running around getting everything ready for the transfer. I packed my computer away and got myself all ready for the big move and then I waited….and waited…and waited… Finally I realized it wasn’t going to happen any time soon and pulled my computer back out. My Aunt Marian, who had gone through surgery herself not too long ago, came for a visit and enjoyed being the visitor rather than the patient. I went to the bathroom and on my way back down the hall one of her nurses said to me, “Oh, they are moving her right now!” It’s the curse of the bathroom! I got back to her room and everyone was in there getting everything that belonged to her and moving on out! I grabbed my computer, threw it into my bag, and off we went! Things in the hospital either move slower than a snail or faster than lighting!

My mother is now resting in the Rehab Unit and chowing on some gnarly-smelling hospital food (yuck!). She’ll be here for like another week – oh boy! Then it’s home to my house where she’ll stay until she can care for herself without assistance. It will be good for her to stay here a while longer – the people here are trained to help others where I am not. Plus, I am meaner than they are and if my mother is not doing the correct thing I tell her what she is doing wrong and what she needs to be doing right. I have no mercy – probably due to my past experiences with surgeries and getting better with no one holding my hand gently. It was always a “do it or else!” message I was given and now I have the same attitude towards anyone seeking my help. I’m sure she’s going to have a great time with her new friends in the Rehab Unit (that was sarcasm, folks). She has been enjoying her visitors…

I was visiting my mother last weekend and I had been playing a game on her computer when we decided to take Sammy for a drive – with hope he’d fall asleep! I left her computer on, not even thinking twice about it. Scott and I leave our computers on at home all the time – it was the normal thing to do. We drove around for at least an hour and a half – Sammy never fell alseep. We just gave up and returned home, where Scott was waiting for us (asleep on the couch). Sammy was wide awake and ready to go, go, go! Scott took our niece, Keirra, and Sammy out for bike rides around the neighborhood. My mother went around watering her outdoor plants and I was quick to return to my computer game! I am not a gamer and for the most part I think of video games as being a waste of time – although we do play from time to time, late at night when there’s nothing else to do. I was totally bored at my mother’s and sat back down to continue my simple game of “Balls go Boom!” (Sammy named it that.) While deep in concentration the computer desktop flickered blue and then back to the normal picture. It caught my eye, but I did not stop playing – just kinda letting it go without a second thought. Then it happened again, but this time it didn’t flicker back to normal. I thought it was weird, but as long as it wasn’t messing with my game… But then my little cursor jumped off the game site and closed my game – all by itself! I sat in disbelief as I watched the cursor move up and click on Firefox – opening it! I’ve seen the cursor move by itself like this before; Scott has put this program called “VNC” on all the family computers, so he can “hack” into them, take control of the cursor and fix them. But this wasn’t Scott taking control; he was out in the street. Who was this? Once Firefox was open, they went into “tools” and as it moved toward options I started to freak out! I grabbed my mouse and started to jolt it from side to side – showing whomever it was, “Hey! I’m right here!” The Hacker did not seem to care that I was right there and fighting for control of the cursor as they went to click on “privacy” trying to get saved passwords. I saw my site name and went crazy with the mouse thrusting it in violent circles around the mouse pad. I started to scream for Scott, but he was nowhere around and my mother couldn’t hear me. I was frantic and needed help – there was an intruder trying to take personal information with me sitting right there! The Hacker finally gave up the fight and logged off. I went to “Start” and “Shut Down” her computer. I made sure it was off before sprinting outside in desperate search for Scott!

Out of breath and shaking I dashed outside and over to Scott and Sammy coming back onto my mother’s street. I ran to him and said as much as I could – my heart was getting ready to explode! “Someone just hacked into my mother’s computer!” I huffed. “With me right there!!!” I took a deep breath in and repeated myself two more times before Scott was able to get what the heck I was saying. He grabbed Sammy and the three of us went running back into my mother’s house. I told him I had left the computer on for a long time while we were out for the ride. He was calm, like it was no big deal. Though I could see his eyes wide with intrigue and bewilderment. He was asking me questions about what happened and how far the intruder got. I felt like I was being questioned by the police after a robber invaded my home. I showed him everything and he said they probably didn’t get any vital information. He looked at the log files and was able to see that the Hacker was from the UK and had hacked in twice (flashback to the first time the desktop flickered blue!) Then the hacker stayed on for a whole minute and ten seconds the second time. I told Scott it took me about ten seconds to figure out what the hell was happening, and then I fought with the hacker for about a minute! Scott smiled and said, “That’s when you do this.” and he hit the power button shutting the computer down. Oh my god! I didn’t even think about that! I explained I was freaking out and had no idea what to do. Scott knows me and he knows when I panic I cannot think clearly. Once, we were on a Washington State freeway heading home when my tire blew out! I grabbed the wheel and started yelling, “Scott! Scott! Scott!” He clamly said, “Pull off the road.” and that was all I needed – a little direction. There was no one to give me direction with the hacker and so I did what I could – and it turned out to be enough. Though, now I know what to do if it happens again.

Scott strengthened the password on my mother’s VNC and turned on the prompt that will pop up asking her if she wants to allow the remote connection or not. Scott is always using VNC to “hack” into my computer, my mother’s computer and all of his work computers. It is something he does to help out – not to invade. I told my mother that if the prompt comes up to deny it unless she is on the phone with Scott and she knows for sure it is him! Everything calmed down and it was over… or so I thought. The next day I was back on her computer and playing the same game I was the day before when the VNC prompt popped on-screen! I was shocked that the hacker would come back! I quickly clicked the “deny request” and called Scott. I asked if he had just tried to get onto my mother’s computer, but he had not. They cracked the password!!! It was nothing anyone could guess – unless they have a program, and even so, why are they targeting my mother’s computer? The prompt stopped them and they have not been back – that I know of.

When Scott got home he remembered not knowing how trojan horse had gotten on his computer a few days before this whole thing with my mother’s computer. He checked his log files, and saw that he had hackers on his computer too! They broke his password and Scott thinks they planted the trojan. He doesn’t know if they stole any vital information, bank account passwords or any other passwords he had saved. They could get into our bank accounts and other things that Firefox stores a password for – how creepy is that?!?! The only thing bad that has happened – thus far – has been the trojan horse. Scott put up a different password, but I don’t doubt for a second that they will be able to break it. He cannot put the prompt on because he is always hacking into it himself from work – and the same with all his work computers. My advice is never save a password on your computer! When Firefox asks, just click “never for this site” and you should be good.

That was so weird! It totally felt like I was sitting in my mother’s house and some burglar walked calmly in and simply started taking stuff. No matter what I said or did, the intruder just continued walking through her house taking what they wanted. There was no physical threat, but I felt invaded nonetheless! My laptop is pretty safe – as there is no direct way to connect to its VNC. To hack into my laptop you would have to go through a lot and then break the password! You are just never safe – no matter who you are! If you need to know how to activate the prompt in VNC go ask Scott, he’ll send you the directions.

Last Friday (July 14th) my Hard of Hearing student went to the DMV, took his permit test and passed! Yay – good for you! He was so proud of himself and his father standing beside him with a smile saying, “That’s my boy! I am proud of you.” The DMV guy behind the counter scored his test and told him he had passed. He then asked to see the usual birth certificate and social securty card. The DMV guy said he needed to go in the back and check something (taking the birth certificate and social securty card with him), and that he’d be right back. Meanwhile, my student and his father filled out the necessary paperwork. The DMV guy came back and told my student and his father that he needed to keep his birth certificate and his social securty card and get more information from Reno. My student and his father sat there looking confused, “What?!” was the look screaming from their faces. “It’s something we do. Every fifteen customers we do this – it’s routine.” My student and his father didn’t know what to say, but, “Okay…” The DMV man excused himself and returned to the back room. My student’s father turned to him and jokingly said, “Get ready to run!”

My student was sent home empty-handed – not even the permit he was promised for passing the test. The DMV guy told his father that he needed to call Reno and get information, after he gets the information needed the birth cerificate and social security card will be mailed back to him and he’ll be able to come in and get his permit. On Monday when my student told me this I couldn’t believe it! I thought he was telling me an outrageous story and the truth lay in his wallet in the form of a permit. After a few minutes of interrogating him I realized he was telling me the truth. I just could not imagine why they would keep his personal belongings like that – I mean there must be some law against that. I could see if they had taken copies of it, but keeping the real McCoys just seemed wrong. I told him I was going to call the DMV and find out what the heck was going on. I asked him if his parents understood why the DMV kept his personal information – he said they did not. Of course they did not, no one took the time to explain it to them. Nor did they want them to know the reasons – thinking they might just run.

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I stopped to chat with the summer school teacher after school and I asked her if she might know of any reason this might have happened. The first thing she said was, “He’s hispanic, right?” I said he was and she nodded with total understanding. “I had just heard on the news… oh, maybe last week….that there is a huge problem with forged documents in Northern Nevada. People are making and selling fake birth cerificates and social security cards. The DMV probably saw them walk in and figured they needed to be checked out.” The reason they kept the originals was because if they were forged documents they could confiscate them and turn the illegal aliens in to the immigration police. I told her they told my student and his father that they do this to every fifteen customers. She doubted that – so do I. I know the color of their skin is what threw up a red flag. I told the teacher that I had taken my Deaf student in to do the test, and they never questioned him. She said, “Of course not, he was with you.” I realized exactly what she meant right away – I am white. They never questioned him because why would an American bring in an illegal alien to get his permit? I mean, it must be legit – right?

Today my Hard of Hearing student asked if I had called the DMV, he was hungry for the information. I took a deep breath, knowing the problems he has had in the past with American and immirgrant issues, and I said, “I didn’t have to.” I told him what I figured happened and he would just have to wait. He has nothing to worry about, he was born here and it’ll be proven by some computer program somewhere. I told him they type in your social securty number and they match the name with the place of birth – whatever. I really have no clue how they do it, but it was an answer and he just needed an answer. I told him I thought it was wrong that it happened to him, but there is really nothing we can do to prove they picked him out only because he has brown skin. The look in his eyes made me want to cry – pure sadness. He has had such a hard time with things lately and this just put a big fat cherry on top of a mountain-high sundae. All he wanted was his permit, a dream (most) every teenager has. He went into the DMV and he passed on his first try! Not many people pass that damn test on their frist try – but he did. He studied the book and remembered things I had talked to him about and POW! He did it. Then in a blink of an eye it was taken away. Kids who pass would probably have the prize of driving their parents home from the DMV, my student had to sit in the passenger seat with his head lowered and tears welling up. He’s such a good boy! He is kind and gentile and a little naughty at times, but he’s a teenager! He was sent away without the one thing he came for, the one thing that was owed to him outright. He worked hard and did his best for what? Some middle-aged white DMV employee snatching away his prize and forcing him to wait while they figure out if he was born in the United States!

I am sad because there are people out there who have made this happen for my student and his family. Bad, bad, stupid assholes out there smearing the good name this family tries to uphold. It was really funny when my student’s father said, “Get ready to run.” unknowing it was exactily what the DMV man thought they would do…

Yes, I am thirty-something, but this isn’t about me. It’s about my Scottie who just took the leap from twenty-something into thirty-something – Welcome to the club! His big day was on Saturday (the fifteenth of July) and though we didn’t do much, it was good.

When Scott and I first started dating I realized pretty quickly that he did not enjoy the festival of birthdays! Growing up my mother would get almost clinically depressed every year on her birthday. My brother and I tried to make it fun and exciting and no matter what we did – she just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide the whole day. I mean, she appreciated what we tried to do for her, and never complained – but, it was obvious that she was not “really” happy. My brother followed suit and hates his birthday, maybe even more than our mother! I am either the black sheep of the family or my father is hiding a gene that I never knew about, but I LOVE birthdays!!! Come on people! How can you hate the one day out of the entire year when it is all about YOU??? Birthdays are the best – I enjoy that one day a year that I don’t get in trouble for being selfish. Of course no one around me agrees and therefore they don’t want to party (on MY birthday) as much as I do. They don’t want to plan or get excited – like I do. I am left alone in the excitement room, and that’s no fun. When I first realized that Scott too did not get excited about his birthday – I figured I was alone on the planet. I wasn’t about to break up with him just because he didn’t enjoy his birthday – I am not that evil. *wink* At first it was all about trying to over do it, and nothing I did sparked him as, “Hey, this is fun!” I finally just explained to him the power of the birthday, and how no matter what, you cannot fight the fact that each and every year at exactly the same time you have a birthday. Why get all depressed? There is nothing you can do to control the aging process – might as well open your arms big and wide and embrace the birthday! Enjoy yourself for one day. Allow others to gush all over you and do things for you. Suck it up and just have fun with it. No one enjoys getting older – except the teenagers who can’t wait to be twenty-five. I hate the fact that I am thirty-something and am in a dead end job making shit for money (pretty stinky)! I have all year to hate that fact, but I only have one day to forget the hells of life and remember that I love ME! For one moment I need to remember that my life made two people the happiest people on the planet. I was happiness coming into this world and my birthday reminds me how important I am. I get to sit back and enjoy all the good I have done with my life and not look at the crap that’s around me. It was a good thing I was born – it’s a good thing I met Scott and it’s an awesome thing that we made the best little fella ever! I just told Scott there are plenty of great reasons to enjoy your day in the spot light. He seemed to understand my point.

Scott has tried very hard over these past seven years to like his birthday. He isn’t quite there yet, but he has to undo feelings of dread and dislike he had built up until I plowed my way into his life. I really hope that I can instill the passion I have for birthdays in Sammy. Right now he loves them and it’s so great when he brings me one of his toys or a plastic plate from the kitchen and says, “Happy birthday Mommy!” My heart swells and all I can think is, “That’s my boy!”

Saturday was pretty fun, we went over to a friend’s house (Aunt Sendi) for a backyard BBQ. She has a big above-ground swimming pool where Scott, Sammy and our niece, Keirra, played.

Sammy, who had been ill, was having a great time and ended up falling asleep in Grammy’s lap.

Scott started the BBQ, but was removed from his duty after getting caught playing with the flame (pyro!). Either he was really having fun or he really wanted to be kicked off BBQ duty – only Scott knows… We ate yummy hamburgers and salads.

When the sun went down and it was dusk we brought out the extra large Costco cake with pretty flowers and a happy sun wishing the birthday boy all the best.

Sammy helped Daddy with the candles and then helped himself to the icing – yuck!

Finally it was time to leave, thanking everyone for a wonderful evening.

So:

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday Dear Scottie!!!

Happy birthday to you!

DAMMIT!!!!!!

Last Saturday (July 7th) Scott, Sammy and I were supposed to go to a BBQ at Mr. Naughty’s to watch the UFC. I went and picked up my Deaf student and his best friend to come and enjoy the bloody fights alongside us. My student really loves the UFC and he really enjoys being around Mr. Naughty Pants! Saturday morning Mr. Naughty Pants calls me and says the party has moved due to the number of people coming. He was concerned that his house was too small – I beg to differ. At the mention of the new location my nervousness jumped at least three levels! I cannot explain why I get so freaking nervous, I just do. I took a few deep breaths and just walked forward with my head held high and the words, “You can do this!” running over and over again in my head. The first person I saw was a teacher I had worked with two school years ago – and we never really talked or hung out. He had moved to Japan with the awesome opportunity to teach on a naval base there – well-structured teaching. I don’t blame him for wanting that – public school teachers are abused all the time by parents believing we are there to babysit their brats! I chatted with him for a while – listening to myself I wouldn’t blame him for wanting to run away! I didn’t babble or talk about stupid things – but it was apparent that I had nothing to say to him, as I grasped for anything! I was so excited to see Mr. Naughty Pants and family arrive – people I know!!! I would like to think that I get along pretty well with the Naughtys… I followed the Naughtys inside with my posse in tow. I feel like they (Scott and my student) depend on me to be the social ice breaker. They wait for me to start a conversation and stand next to me waiting to be pulled into it. I cannot complain, I do it too.

We went into the kitchen and I was talking to a few people I know, thinking, “This is not so bad.” A few new folks walked in, and feeling pretty confident about myself and the situation I introduced myself. I had, oddly enough, seen this one couple at the store just before arriving and used that to my advantage: “Hey, I just saw you at the store!” The guy’s eyes showed the same, “Hey yeah!” expression as mine and his wife smiled – probably not remembering the store incident. Then they were gone, outside to mingle with the homeowners and the Naughty family. Another couple walked in and I smiled and waited for the eye contact to introduce myself… it never came. I saw a little girl (well, Scott pointed her out to me) and I said to the lady, “Is that your little girl?” She didn’t answer. Okay, well maybe she didn’t hear me – that happens. A little louder, “Is that your little girl?” Still nothing. You would think she would have heard a voice and turn to see if she was the one being addressed – whatever. I waited for her to turn my way – I wasn’t about to give up now, I was on a roll! She finally turned toward me and I said, “How old is she?” no smile, no expression, “two and a half.” Well, it was a start! “I have a two and a half year old too!” I figured this was going to be perfect – we both have kids the same age, that’s a window of endless conversation. She said nothing. I was feeling really uncomfortable by this point, but didn’t give up yet. “Is she yours?” I asked yet again, I didn’t know for sure and didn’t want to assume. She looked at me as if I were crazy, “Yes.” I felt stupid and continued on, “I just wanted to make sure, I didn’t want to assume.” She walked away. Yeah, no brownie points there.

Now, I wanted to go home. Not only was the pretty skinny lady rude to me, but I was left all alone in the kitchen. My salvation to the awkwardness was Sammy who woke up – and I pretty much plowed Scott down trying to get to him first! The food was being served and I figured I could sit next to one of the Naughtys and chill out, try and relax and hang in there until the fights were over… They hadn’t started yet. I walked into the kitchen and I saw Mr. Naughty Pants sitting there, as I got closer to the table I realized two important things; 1) Mr. Naughty Pants was pissed off at his sons who were doing naughty things (it’s all in the name) and 2) everyone else had claimed all the other spots at the table… The pretty skinny lady was walking around me avoiding eye contact, and I felt utterly invisible. Now every inch of me was screaming to just leave and go home! I found my student and his buddy outside – they were dodging people all over the place looking for a quiet spot. Everyone had found refuge inside from the thunderstorm outside…where my student, his buddy, the Naughty nephew and now Scott, Sammy and I sat. When I get nervous and uncomfortable I cannot eat – some people overeat in this situation, but I cannot put food into my mouth. While everyone else ate I sat, trying to figure out what to do. I was sitting there thinking it was stupid that I came in the first place and that no one even realizes I was there and if they did they were probably saying stuff like, “Wow, she’s weird. What did she even come for?”

My self being was shrinking and I wanted nothing more than to rewind time and not show up. Then Mrs. Naughty Pants came out to announce the fights were starting. She took a moment out of what she had been doing to have a conversation with ME. I was trying not to sound like a moron – as I did with the ex-public schoolteacher and the pretty skinny lady. I headed inside to see the fight – figuring that’s where everyone would be. All the men were sitting on the giant couch, leaving no room for us latecomers. The homeowner (husband) said we could go in his garage and get ourselves a lawn chair. Not only was that uncomfortable, it was weird too. Normally the host would be like, “Oh, let me get you folks some seats!” I told him it was ok, we would just pull some of the dining room chairs over, and he was all, “Oh yeah! Okay.”

It was quickly apparent that all the females had congregated outside in a clear 1950’s statement that the fight was for the men, and the children-watching was the sport for the women. I was the only female watching the fights and if I didn’t feel out of place before, I really did now. I could not relax to save my life and ended up standing for most of the three hours the fights were on. Mr. Naughty Pants tried to make sure I was okay and tried to include me, but it was the crowd that ruled that idea out. Sam helped his mommy out the most! He was playing with Mr. Naughty Pants and climbing on the back of the giant couch to get to him – that good little fella of mine was forcing himself into the middle of their attention – Thanks Sam! Then the ex-public schoolteacher said something that said loud and clear, “I don’t enjoy you next to me, go away.” (not his exact words, but close enough) I understand that Sammy had a golf club and was trying to knock Mr. Naughty Pants out with it, but the ex-public schoolteacher could have played it up by helping little Sammy knock Mr. Naughty Pants out – now that sounds like fun! *wink* Sammy was all over the pretty skinny lady’s husband and he never freaked out, but had a good laugh at Sammy trying to get to Mr. Naughty Pants.

The time came that the fights were finally finished – and I enjoyed watching them, as uncomfortable as I was. My student really loved watching the fights and cannot wait until Mr. Naughty’s next BBQ! I had a little conversation with the homeowner (wife) at the end, and that was nice. It was finished and I was able to get outta there! I said “good-bye” to every one sitting in the living room, and the few voices I heard say, “Bye Vi,” were that of Mr. Naughty Pants (as his Mrs. had left already with their boys and the pretty skinny lady), the naughty nephew and the homeowner (wife). I just felt like they were like, “Yeah, go finally!”

I drove the two boys home and by the time I got back into town I was starving and stopped for some fast food (who’s naughty now?). I relaxed and ate and realized I probably should not put myself in that situation again. I will go to Mr. Naughty Pants’ for BBQ (or whatever) anytime they ask (or try to anyhow). I guess it might have been better at his house – I really don’t know. All I know is I am happy that evening is over. I hated being that invisible kid all through school and I still hate being the invisible person in life. Scott is totally comfortable with being the fly on the wall, no human contact whatsoever. I need contact with other adult human beings! A friend of mine once said, “I just don’t understand why you are not surrounded by good friends.” All I could say to that was, “Neither can I.” I try really hard to get people to hang out with and it seems impossible. I don’t want to be that annoying person either, always calling, always inviting myself over and imposing. I want to be someone they like, someone they want to invite over and chill with… I want to be a “cool girl.” I don’t know, maybe I am socially retarded – I like to think I am easy to talk to, easy to get along with, likeable. I don’t know what I need to do to improve whatever is wrong with me, because I don’t know what’s wrong. I hate to be alone! I hate doing anything alone! It is a weird twist of fate, ironic, how someone who hates to be alone always is.

I really enjoy the friends I have now and am always open to make new ones. I am really social; I just don’t understand why social events reject me. I try to push myself onto others – but when it is screaming clear that they want nothing to do with me, what else can I do? I have been feeling depressed lately thinking of this next school year, and how alone I will be there. It took me three years to find my place at the middle school! I have worked at the high school before and spent all my free time alone. Not by choice – there was no other choice. I just hope the friends I made last school year will continue being my friends…

BTW – If it weren’t for the Naughty Pants family, I would have had an awful time. It is because they befriended me that I did have an enjoyable time (even if the blog didn’t sound like it). If they are involved, I hate to say that I won’t come to the event – I enjoy them! So, Thanks!

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The colors red, white and blue have different meanings for different folks. I look at them and I see a flag that represents America all over the world. It is home, life, love and happiness. Its warm arms embrace me and keep me safe. For a friend of mine those colors represent freedom for his people, a better life and a place he is proud to call home now. For another friend these three colors represent terror, slavery and mistrust. For him the colors remind him of every wrong America’s made. When he sees people waving these colors as a proud gesture of this nation, he sees only a political statement; a love of the President and their God being shoved into his face.

I am proud to be an American. I am proud of this place I call home, proud of everything it stands for and everything it does. I do not agree with everything that happens here, the laws and the people who are in power. I don’t like certain events of the past that demeaned human beings, tortured them and killed them without a second thought. I don’t agree with the American doctrine that “more is better,” especially when people use it as an excuse to eat themselves into obesity. I may not like things that happen here, but I love it here. All the things that are bad about this country are nothing compared to how wonderful it is. Show me a perfect nation – a nation without violence, a nation without flaws. There isn’t one, but America is the closest we’ve got. I live here, my grandparents lived here and their grandparents lived here – going all the way back to when our country was first founded. Yes, we came over and stole this land from people that were already here – do I think it was the right thing to do? Probably not. But I cannot go back into the past and change history. I live in the here and now. I feel no guilt, because simply I had nothing to do with it. People came here and did what they felt was right, I only live in the dream they had for this country. I hate that Americans took people from their homeland, shipped them over here and used them as their personal slaves. There are many things that Americans did in the past that are sad and embarrassing. The thing is, America didn’t do these awful things, people living here did. They brought shame to the name and symbol that is this nation. I am not going to let them blind me from what this country is all about. People who had passion for this country fought hard for it, their blood was shed for it and they won. There were more people who disagreed with those horrific ways of life then the ones who enjoyed the suffering of others. This is a nation that has redeemed itself time and time again, and I am proud of the good men and women who stood tall for what they believed in and never backed down.

I learned something a few weeks ago, what the term “flag wavers” means. Apparently, it refers to people who see waving the American flag as a political statement. They do it only to support our current President and their God, not the country as a whole. And just by being proud of the flag I’m automatically lumped in with those people? I don’t think so. The flag is bigger than them. I also found out that there are people living in America, who are Americans (born and raised), and who hate America. This hurts, because I could never imagine anyone living here and not loving this nation. I was a moron who figured if you didn’t like it here, you should move out. It really is that

simple: if you can find happiness elsewhere – then by all means get out ! I have read things that make me laugh, because these people spend too much time trashing this place they live in, but yet they stay here. Why, if they hate it so much? The wonderful thing about this country, is that those narrow-minded fools can bash and rip apart America out loud and in public, and they won’t be jailed like they would in China, or worse. They have that right as Americans; this country was built deliberately so that in the year two thousand and six people could walk around and openly say that they hate America, the president, the government and god without repercussions. We have the right to pick our own god, or not have any at all, and not die by the hands of a ruler because we are free to think for ourselves. We have the right to pick what life we want and how many children we have. No, America is not perfect – what is? Christianity rules the powers that be, and I hate that! I don’t agree that we should restrict marriage – we are a free nation – right? I don’t agree with the way the government treats the disabled. I don’t agree with how the poor are treated, people without medical insurance….etc, etc, etc. But the thing is, the powers that be are not this nation, they didn’t built the foundation of this land we live in now, they didn’t give us the rights we have and they did not put the red, the white, and the blue on a flag and dub this land America. And the thing is – after they’re dead and gone this thing we call America will still be around, because it’s an idea that’s bigger than any of us and will outlast us all. When I stand for the pledge and put one hand over my heart, I am not saluting the morons in office or the government we have right now. I am saluting that enduring idea. I am saluting the good men and women who have fought to keep this idea alive and make this the best place they could. I am saluting every law I agree with and feel passionate about. I am saluting the legend of good ol’ Betsy Ross who sat there and hand sewed a flag she was asked to make to be the symbol of this great nation while men died fighting for it.

America has a giant-sized immigrant problem here right now (nothing new, it’s always been here). The government is freaking out and immigrants are running around scared of being caught and sent back to their home country. Why is America having this problem? It is simply because it is better here then where these immigrants have run away from. We are all descendents of immigration; someone in our family tree wanted a better life for their family and moved to America to get it. I believe this is their salvation, the answer to end their own personal hells. A student I work with was pissed off at America, because the American government was trying to push his family out and back into Mexico. I told him to go and ask each one of his family members why they want to stay here so badly, why it’s so important to be here when they were at risk of being caught and sent back to Mexico. My student is very proud of where he was born – as he should be, but he is also very proud to be an American. This is the country his family brought him to, believing it was a better life for them all. He has a great passion for the country he was born in and for the country he now calls home.

My Grandfather fought in World War II and was wounded badly. He believed in the nation he fought to protect and those he went to defend. I am proud of him and everyone else who has been in every war America has been a part of. In the 60s and 70s it was disgusting as idiots who embarrassingly called themselves Americans stood and spat on the soldiers as they came home from hell. I don’t even understand the mentality there, as I am sure there was none. Just one of so, so many brainless things done during those two decades. We need to look at what we have and not pout about what has happened. Things in the past are in the past, and there is no way we

can go back in time to correct that. Look into the future and decide what you want for your children. I want mine to be proud of this nation they will probably call home, embrace it with their souls and stand proud with the colors red, white and blue waving before them.

I am proud to be an American. Happy 230th Birthday America!