Hello Glenn . . .

As if I don't have enough reasons to never set foot in Walmart again, I have found another.  Several months ago, I was shopping in Walmart and was approached by a distinguishing looking older gentleman.  Tall, well dressed with white hair, ala Leslie Nielson with a face similar to Kevin Nealon. He introduced himself as Glenn and awkwardly explained that he would like to get to know me better and asked how he could do that.  I was just as awkward at turning him down, saying something like, "I have a child . . . she is small", then something else completely irrelevant to the situation and "Thank you, but bye."
I have seen Glenn in the store many times since and even overheard him using his introductory line on other women.  I always turn in the other direction.

I have to interject, that in a town this size, and the amount of people that I am completely irritated by and sick of, I am finding it increasingly difficult to get through any store without copious detours. Luckily, Elle has learned to just hang onto the cart and go along for the ride.

Moving forward, today I was again at Walmart (I spend WAY too much time there) and here comes good ole Glenn.  I must say he has polished his spiel since last we met.  "Hello, my name is Glenn." and, again letting me know that he would like to get to know me.
"Hello Glenn."



I am happy to report that I, too had improved my skills in turning him down.  I continued on, and heard him introducing himself to a young lady in the next aisle.  I internally wished her well, but was careful not to cross his path again in my effort to exit the premises.
Queue Mission Impossible theme song.
But, dag blasted! I rounded a corner, clear!

But then, here comes Glenn . . . again . . .
"Sarah!"
Me:  Glenn, NO!
Glenn:  I have to ask you . . .
Me:  Cringing, backing up and checking out any available escape route . . .
Glenn:  Have I approached you before?
Me:  Yes.  This would be the third time.
Glenn:  I am so embarrassed!  I apologize.
In my head:  Then quit doing it!
Once again free of Glenn, I made a beeline for the checkout, and will now be shopping at Target . . . or barricading myself in the house.

Please, someone get Glenn a date!
 

Our Sweet Furry Family Members

Cat Lady Blog
Rest assured please, I am not really a cat lady by the stereotypical definition.  At least I don't think I am.
I don't knit sweaters out of their fur.  I don't feed them from my mouth.  I only have two.  I do own a litter box and I do clean it regularly.  I, God willing, will not be found dead and on the news in my hoarder-like house filled with yowling, deficating cats.  I do, however, love my cats like children.  Not as much as I love my own child, but . . . I am dragging on now.
I grew up with pets.  Indoor cats, outdoor cats, stray cats, cats with attitude . . . wait, they ALL have attitude; cattitude if you will.  We always had dogs as well.  Protective dogs, little dogs, yippy dogs, etc.
I have always loved animals' fuzzy, cuddly nature as well as their ability to be independant.
While married, I was not "allowed" to have any kind of pet.  The shedding was "not permissible".
Well then, once I separated from my now ex-husband, I decided that my daughter, Elle, and I needed a pet. 
As single mother, working full time, living in an apartment with no yard, I didn't see it fair to get a dog.  So we were ready to adopt a cat.  My mama insisted we get two and I wholeharted agree that is the way to go.  They need companionship and it is so much fun to spend an evening watching them play together.  The hiding, the creeping, the hunting and sneeking.  The intense way they wiggle their behinds getting ready to pounce, then all hell breaks loose.
Where to find those cats, though?  My parent's porch.
My parent's porch had long been and unwanted and unintentional cat farm.  All ferel, yet still fed twice a day.  Hmm, wonder why they stuck around . . . and bred . . . and fought . . . and you get the picture.
What better place to find my new furry children? 
I waited until spring so I could get the pick of the litter . . . Wow, I just now realized where that phrase came from. 
And, boy did I find an incredible duo. 
My first pick, Mud Pie, named for her motley, long hair, tabby/calico coloring.  She was the most adorable kitten I have ever seen.  Her poofy fur and sweet little face . . . I was in love.
Our next pick, Dandelion (Dandy), named for his bright white shock of stand-on-end fur.  He is clearly Siamese from his coloring to his yowling to his "dog-like" mannerisms.  How he came to be born into the rag tag bunch of ferel felines on that porch, we will never know.  But I saw him as a one of a kind and snatched him up to live with us.
Just like that, Elle and I had doubled our happy little family.
It has been three years now.  We have had our ups and downs as they say, including, but not limited to escape attempts, the ruination of every carpet edge in the house and a tail detachment misshap that had us running to the vet . . . and me allowing Elle to curse, just this one time, because, as Mama said, "Sometimes you just have to."
but that is another story for another day . . .

Time for Change

It is amazing what changes you can make in your life when you don't think you have the strength.  I knew I was in over my head.  I knew I was in trouble.  I knew.  God knew.
I prayed for God to give me strength.  I prayed for God to give me hope.  I prayed for God to simply fix me.  I know that is not how He operates.  He did his best.  He started out gently.  He was in my head.  I knew.  He was heavy on my heart.  I knew.  I saw Him trying all around me.  I felt Him trying to help me.  I knew it was Him.  I still couldn't quit.  I cried.  I was frustrated.  I could not change.  I could not fix myself.  I knew.  God knew.
Thank you God for not giving up on me.  You knew. 
Finally, one morning I woke up and couldn't move.  I couldn't get out of bed.  I was in an incredible amount of pain.  I did not know what what wrong with my body, but I knew.  He was forced to deal His final blow.  God knew.
Mama took me to the ER and I was admitted to the hospital.  I was diagnosed with Pancreatitis.  I was told it was caused by spicy foods, rich foods and/or alcohol.  I knew.  God knew.  Mama knew. 
I stayed in the hospital for a week and went through DTs and withdrawals.  I was given special fluids and vitamins.  I developed water on my lungs and Mama was told I may not make it.  That is something I never should have put my my Mama through.  I knew.
I did make it though.  Not without the scars, the knowledge, the hope for the future.
Thank you Mama for not giving up on me.  You knew.
I will never forget the tear filled night time phone calls from my Elle.  She missed me.  I missed her.  She shouldn't grow up without me.  I knew.
I will never use the excuses again.  I will never drink again.  I know.  God knows.  Mama knows.

A Typical Morning at Our House . . .

I had just pushed my english muffin down in the toaster for the second time (I like it crunchy) when I noticed that the table was covered in silver glitter. As I was cleaning that up, I noticed a paint brush still covered in paint and glitter. "Elle, please clean this off in the bathroom." I then took my handful of glitter to throw away in the bathroom, where I witnessed Elle wiping the paint and glitter covered paint brush on all the towels hanging in the bathroom. "Nooo!" I rinsed the towels and put them in the washer and realized I had clothes in the dryer. I started folding clothes and remembered the english muffin that I didn't want too crunchy. I ran to the kitchen, tripping over Elle, who was now coming out of the bathroom and reached the toaster just as my burned muffin popped up and the smoke alarm went off. Have a good day!

A day in my life . . .

I got my oil changed at the dealership that my brother-in-law works at today. While I was waiting for them to pull my car up, I went to say HI to him. Another sales guy asked if I needed help, I said, "No, I am just looking for my brother-in-law, Richard." "Richard?" "Yes. Richard Martinez." They clearly had no idea who I was talking about. For a second, I panicked and thought he was leading a double life and lying to my sister. Then I realized his name is Robert, not Richard. So I just ran away.

First Post, "What am I Doing?"

April 17, 2012 Where do I start? I have always wanted to be a writer. I love to entertain people. I guess I'll start by telling you about myself. I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am a divorcee. I am a fiancée. I am a good person. I have found extreme joy. I have felt terrible pain. I can share my experiences and thoughts. Hopefully, it will be entertaining. Sarah