Just for Tonight…

Just for tonight I’m going to let myself miss him.  Only tonight.

I miss the way he sings me to sleep.

I miss the way he holds me so close to him when we’re falling asleep.

I miss the way we laugh together.

I miss our talks…we can talk about anything and everything.

I miss our date nights.

I miss watching football and music videos with him.

I miss kissing him.

I miss being close to him.

I even miss our arguments – as ridiculous as they may be.


It’s possible I’ll hate myself in the morning for writing this, but right now I don’t give a damn.

I’m giving myself permission to miss him this much…just for tonight.

Anxiety – Part I: Halloween 1987

My intent is to write, in two blogs, about my experience with anxiety and panic attacks.  Think I’m crazy if you must, but those of us who must endure these events are well aware we’re not nuts.

It’s a big subject.  One I think a lot of people are afraid to talk about which, of course, leads to more anxiety.  If you have an anxiety attack that in turns leads to more of the same because once you get through one, you are simply just waiting for the next one.  It’s a seriously vicious cycle.

The topic of anxiety and panic attacks have come up several times recently (in my life anyway) so it seems necessary that I address it.  Before I do that though, I need to share a story because this story is most of the reason for mine.  See, over time I’ve been able to trace back to this particular night as the trigger for my panic attacks.  After you read, you’ll probably understand why.

It’s Halloween, 1987.  Been a fairly normal day.  I’ve never been a big fan of Halloween.  I mean, it was just never a big deal for me and my siblings growing up.  We weren’t big into the trick-or-treating/costume thing and mostly we did church stuff. So, I personally was not doing anything special this particular night and I stayed home.  My Daddy was married to a woman named Patsy (The Step Bitch) at the time.  To say I hated her is an understatement.  I despised every fiber of her being and knew from the beginning what she was about.  She was a whore, a tramp and simply using my Daddy.  Back then, we had money.

Anyway, my younger brother and steps brother/sister were going out that night.  I think they were all going skating or something.  I don’t remember.  Evening approaches, and The Step Bitch Patsy oddly decided to give everyone a later curfew than normal, something she never did.  Everyone but myself, my Daddy and The Step Bitch left for the night.  I hung out in my room, spent a couple of hours on the phone with my boyfriend at the time, then went to bed I believe around 11ish.  At 11:30 or so, The Step Bitch wakes me up to tell me my brother has broken down “somewhere in Griffin,” she didn’t know exactly where, and asked me to go look for him.  Now, at the time, this did not raise any questions because I’m sure I just assumed my brother was drunk (par for the course) and so I threw on some clothes and set out to find him.  From where we lived, Griffin was about 15-20 minutes away.  So I drove…and I drove…and I looked.  Couldn’t find him anywhere.  This was before the entire planet had cell phones so I couldn’t call home, I just headed back.  When I pulled up in front of my house, it was CHAOS.  Blue lights flashing, ambulance, cops all over the place. Naturally, I flew out of my car only to have a neighbor stop me.  When I asked what happened, the neighbor told me my Daddy had been shot.  They had just closed the ambulance doors when I pulled up.

Shot?  My Daddy?  No f****** way!  Who would do that to him?  I mean I know his career as a Private Investigator was a bit questionable at times, but he was so careful to shield me and protect me from anything iffy that I didn’t think for one second maybe an “associate” had hurt him.  I broke free from my neighbor, ran into the house and noticed The Step Bitch wasn’t there and IMMEDIATELY I knew what she’d done.  There was no doubt in my mind it was her that had shot my Daddy.

Fast forward a bit…I start calling people because I had no damn idea what to do.  I know at some point, my older brother Joe showed up (he was a cop back then) and I know eventually The Step Bitch came back to the house where I hear my brother tackled her and put the cuffs on her before she could even make it to the front door.   I didn’t see this happen, but I recall someone telling me it occurred.  The Step Bitch’s sister showed up I think, or one of them.  Eventually my brother and step sister/brother got back to the house.  I recall throwing a very heavy lamp at somebody – I think my step brother.  There was a police officer there, Dormer was his name, and he was basically my rock while I was at the house that night.  He got all of the people related to The Step Bitch out of the house.  This was MY house, the one I grew up in and they were INTRUDERS and needed to GET OUT so he made that happen and quickly.

Now understand, I am extremely close to my Daddy.  I am a genuine Daddy’s Girl down to my core.  He is my hero, my savior.  There are no right words to say how much I love him or how much he means to me so I won’t try because it won’t do how I feel about him justice.

Things begin to settle down just a bit.  Most of the police are gone.  The Intruders have been kicked out.  My boyfriend shows up and he takes me to the hospital.  I get to my Daddy, see him and FLIP OUT.  Hysterical flipping out.  He’s hooked up to all of the machines, tubes and blood everywhere…it’s just bad.  Very bad.  I beg my boyfriend to take me to the police station, telling him I want to talk to someone to find out exactly what happened.  What BF does not know is I really want to go there to kill Step Bitch.  Seriously.  That was my plan.  Irrational though it was, I wanted her dead and I was going to make that happen.  Against BF’s better judgement, he takes me.  I bolt out of the car, into the station and the first thing I hear is her talking.  I’m headed straight to her and it so happens Dormer is there and catches me – physically catches me and has to hold me back.  After a time, BF and Dormer manage to calm me down and it seems they decided the best thing to do was to not take me back to the hospital but get me somewhere so I can chill out and maybe sleep. Sleep?  Ha!  Didn’t happen.  BF takes me to a friend’s house, stays with me for the night but there was no sleep.  Mostly I just cried.

The next days are a haze.  I’m not even sure what happened to The Step Bitch’s kids.  I know I did not see them again…ever.  I don’t even know where my brother was and I don’t remember seeing him for a long while after that night.

More details I do recall:

Spending the night with my Daddy in the hospital where, in his sleep, he would be dreaming about the night he got shot and I got a replay of what his night was like because he would talk in his sleep.  See, he watched The Step Bitch shoot him.  While he was sleeping, she unplugged the phone next to his side of the bed.  She fired the first shot – woke him, of course – and he watched the rest happen.  She left the room and he rolled over, somehow managed to plug the phone back in and called 911 himself.  He passed out on the first call but they had already dispatched police to the house.  He was friends with most every copy and judge and lawyer in the county we lived in at the time so the response was quick and a lot of people responded.  Can you imagine how that must’ve felt for him?  To watch his wife try to kill him?

While he was in the hospital, it was left up to me to get the house back in order, including his bedroom.  This meant dealing w/ the bloody mattress.  It was soaked and completely covered.  I had help but that didn’t make it any easier.  A friend and I got the mattress to the street for trash pick up.  We flipped it so the bloody side didn’t show but would you believe someone actually knocked on our door asking if they could take the mattress?  OMG!  All I could say was “You are more than welcome to take it but know my Daddy was just shot and the other side of it is covered in blood.”  They were speechless and left without saying a word.  For whatever reason, I decided to vacuum his bedroom and accidentally vacuumed up his teeth that were knocked out by a bullet.  Which was sort of funny and I can laugh about it now but not so much back then.

He ended up with six bullets in him.  Strangely enough, while cleaning up his room, I found her target practice things – you know those sheets of paper with the outline of a person on them?  Ironically, the shots she fired during her practice were in almost the exact locations of the bullets she fired at Daddy.  Coincidence?  I think not.

Daddy spent weeks with his jaw wired shut.  There was some debate about taking out all of the bullets as one was lodged extremely close to an artery so it was decided that particular one would stay.  Once he came home, he had his gun with him at all times, even taking it to the bathroom with him.  I’ve no doubt if The Step Bitch had the guts to show up at the house, he would’ve shot her and if he hadn’t, then I would’ve.

She spent only a week in jail.  I’ve nothing to say about that but I’m sure you can guess how I feel about it.  Daddy did not want her prosecuted.  However, Daddy spent many years afterward getting his own brand of justice so don’t assume she wasn’t punished.  She was.

Someone told me once that our neighbors reported hearing  “loud popping noises” around 10:30 that evening.  If you’ll remember, I said earlier she woke me up at around 11:30.  I’ve been told the reason Daddy forced himself to get the phone plugged in and call for help is because he was afraid I was in the house and she’d shot me, too.

There is a 911 tape floating around somewhere of Daddy’s call, but I don’t want to hear it.  Not now, not ever.

It is YEARS later.  I just realized it’s almost 25 years later.  Shit.  Long time.  Our family has recovered…sort of.   It was quite awhile before I could talk to Daddy about that night and eventually we did.  For at least 20 years I had nightmares for the entire month leading up to Halloween.  Terrible nightmares.  It was until I actually started talking about the nightmares that they started to go away because all that time, I never told anyone.

I still hate being alone on Halloween.

So, this is where my anxiety comes from.  If I go out alone or at night or I’m alone at night the panic attacks creep up on me.  They can happen even if I’m not alone but they are worse when I’m by myself.  My particular anxiety has a name and I’ll get to that in Part II, but it’s real.  It’s very real people.  It’s real and it’s scary.

A Game of Tag! If You’re a Blogger, Look for Your Name! ;-)

I was tagged!  Aurora Morealist was tagged so she tagged me and 10 other bloggers and I’m about to return the favor!  😀

Here’s how it works…

1.  You must post the rules – if you want to!

2.  Answer the questions the tagger has asked of you in their post the create 11 new questions to ask people you’ve tagged – or “borrow” questions of others if you are so inclined to do so, which I might depending on how creative I feel in a few minutes.

3.  Tag eleven people and link them to your post – not sure I know 11 bloggers well enough yet to tag them but I’ll give it a shot!

4.  Let them know you have tagged them, but if you don’t have time nothing horrible will happen to you!  lol

The questions Aurora asked are:

1. If there was one thing you could tell people about you that might surprise them, what would it be?  I’ve had gray hair since I was about 12 years old.

2. If you were given another chance at life, to come back as anything or anyone you want, who or what would you choose and why?  I’d probably come back as me.  There are some things I’d like to do over and wrongs I’d like to make right.

3. Have you ever known true love and how did you know?  Yes, I have known true love.  I know this because I’m a Mom.

4. Where would you most like to live?  I’d choose either Canada or the U.K.  Possibly, Ireland.

5. What is your favorite thing in the world to do?  Spend time with my daughter, write, read…are we only supposed to give one answer here?

6. What one thing do you wish you did when you had the chance?  Gone to see Elvis in concert with my Mom.  It was his last show in Atlanta before he died.

7. Describe yourself in three words.  This is always so tough!  I’d have to say creative, flawed (borrowed Aurora!) and emotional.

8. What kind of books do you read?  Mostly murder mysteries, but I like some sci-fi and enjoy ghost stories, true crime, and history.

9. If a stranger knocked on your door and asked for food or shelter, what would you do?  I’d be hesitant to allow a stranger to stay in my home because of my daughter but I’d definitely feed him/her and do my best to provide some shelter.

10. Which of your creative outlets do you enjoy most and why?  These days, it’s blogging.  I enjoy writing tremendously.  No idea how good I am at it but I definitely find pleasure in it.

11. Are you glad or ticked off that I tagged you?  Glad!  I love these kinds of things.  It’s a great way to get to know people and make new friends!

Ok, here is the hard part…must come up with 11 questions of my own.  Hmmm…let me see…

1.  Were you named after anyone?

2.  If you were another person, would you be friends with you?

3.  What are the first three things you notice about a person when you meet them for the first time?

4.  What is your least favorite thing about yourself?

5.  What is your favorite music?

6.  You’re in public and see someone fall down – do you ignore or stop to help?

7.  If you were a color, what color would you be?  Why?

8.  If you could have a super power, what would it be and why?

9.  What is the most important lesson you have learned in life?

10.  Do you believe in love at first sight?

11.  If you had 10 minutes with any famous person, alive or dead, who would it be and what would you say to him or her?

Linking this to…

Becoming Cliche

Word Flows


Mightier Than The Pen

Edward Hotspur

Rub Hub:  Tip Me or Else


The Risible Rambler



Hobbling Around


Phones Are From Hell…

This morning, I asked a friend for a blog suggestion and he responds with “folks who can’t be reached by phone.”  There is a reason he said that.  The first reason being he’s really sarcastic (which often makes me laugh out loud) and the second is because he seldom reaches me by phone.

“My name is Lisa and I’m a phone hater.”

There.  It’s out.  They (whoever the hell they is) say the first step is admitting there is a problem, right?

Consider it admitted.

I hate talking on the phone.  More than I can say, I hate it.  I’m not even sure I can come up with any decent, justifiable reasons for it.  It’s just not fun.  It was fun back in the day when I was a teenager and had my own phone line in my bedroom.  Hell yes, I’d talk for hours and hours, all night long!  I’d go to school, catch up on my sleep in whatever class happened to be boring me the most so I could go home and start another phone-a-thon.  But now?  Ick.

I hate holding the phone.  I hate hearing it ring (so annoying it makes my teeth itch).  I hate knowing I’ve got to come up with clever and witty repartee’ on the spot (there’s no rehearsal time when it comes to spontaneous phone conversation – that’s a lot of damn pressure).  We don’t have a land line in our house so this means I’ve got to keep up with a cell phone (I suck at that) and  making sure it’s charged (I suck at that, too).  At this very moment, I can’t even tell you where my cell phone is which likely wouldn’t shock anyone who knows me or has ever tried to call me.  I’m not good with chit-chat and making small talk and if someone else is talking and has tons of interesting things to say and I’ve got nothing?  Well, then I just feel like a Kentucky Fried Idiot.  Who needs that kind of blow to the ego?  Certainly not me.

Catch me in person and I’m a great conversationalist…I think (it’s possible that is just my perception and I’m making it up).  I like the one-on-one interaction without the intrusion of an evil device.  I like to read people’s faces, watch their body language and actually see the person I’m speaking with.  THAT I can get into.

If you ask me, I think the same demon that created glitter also created the phone.   That these things came from Hell is the only real conclusion I can come to.

Now, having said all of that let me say this…my friend who made this blog suggestion is a truck driver and he is on the road  A LOT.  Obviously, when he’s driving he can’t text or send emails and I realize I am being completely unfair to him by not being reachable and not practicing proper phone etiquette i.e, knowing where the damn thing is and then making sure it’s actually charged.  Oh, and then ANSWERING when he calls (that’s the BIG one).   He’s so intelligent about so many things that I often feel intimidated by him because in my head, all I hear is me grunting and stumbling for words.    He can wax eloquent about any number of subjects and all I hear from me is “unh huh, grunt grunt huh unh.”  I sound like a fool.  It’s not pretty.  I know this.  Part of me wonders why he even wants to talk to me.  However, my intelligence or lack thereof, is another topic for another blog.

Maybe I should set phone goals for myself?  Starting this week, I’ll do the following:

1.  Know where my phone is at all times (could require wearing it on a chain around my neck or possibly stapling it to my forehead – we’ll see)

2.  Keeping it charged

3.  Taking a call or two (UGH)

Now, I guess I’d better go find the phone and plug it in.  That takes care of 1 and 2.  It’s #3 that is going to be tricky!

To Anita, From Umona…

I’m one of the weirdos who actually enjoys reading spam mail.  Or at least some of it and the people who send these crazy emails asking for my personal banking account information seriously crack me up.  Today, I’ve decided to experiment and write one of these nuts back.  I created a fake email address…let’s see what happens.  I’m PRAYING I get a reply.

Here is the email I got:

From: Anita Sayed <anitasayed46@hotmail.fr>
Sent: Saturday, February 18, 2012 12:41 PM
Subject: From: Anita Sayed

From: Anita Sayed

My Dear,

It is my pleasure to contact you for a business which am intend to establish inyour country. Though I have not met with you before but I believe one has torisk confiding in succeed sometimes in life.

I can confide on you for the brighter future of my life since you are a humanbeing like me. But what i need from you is Truth, Trust and Honest.

There is this huge amount of four Million Five Hundred Thousand united statesdollars. ($4.500.000.00) which my late Father Deposited for me in the Bank herein Abidjan Cote D’ivoireas his next of kin before he died out of sickness.

Now” am decided to invest this money in your country or anywhere safeenough for security and political reasons.

I want you to help me to transfer my inheritance money into your personalaccount in your country for investment purposes on these areas:

1). Telecommunication
2). The transport industry
3). Five star hotel
4). Real Estate
5) Company enterprise

If you can be of an assistance to me, i will be pleased to offer to you 20% ofthe total fund.

I will be humbly waiting your soonest response.

Respectfully yours,

Miss Anita Sayed

And here is my reply:

Dear Ms. Sayed,

I appreciate your taking the time to write to me about a matter of such importance.  It must’ve taken quite a bit of courage for you to contact a perfect stranger about such a large sum of money.

However, I regret to inform you…I am not human and I am not like you.  Since you have trusted me with your confidence, I feel I must do the same.

I belong to an underground coven of vampire/werewolf hybrids who, as a hobby, practice witchcraft.  Our race is dwindling and there are only a few of us left which is why we choose to live underground.  We prey only on those who do harm to others and occasionally, to people who send us ridiculous spam email.  You might find it odd that a coven of hybrids such as ourselves have computer access.  Do not be alarmed.  We have found it necessary to keep track of hunters by way of the internet.  It must shock you to find out there are hunters stupid enough to Geo Cache.  We were shocked, too.

We do find your offer intriguing, but as you’ve probably guessed we have no use for hotels, real estate or company enterprise.  If your offer included raw meat, blood banks and WiFi then we might be interested.

Thank you for taking the time to contact me.  If you do not hear back from me again, it means I’ve gone out hunting and you may not be aware, but that can take quite some time depending on my form – I just never know when I’ll be a vampire or a werewolf.  Or both, which gets tricky.


Umona, Queen of the Underground

Best Liar Award…

Doing this because it just sounded fun!

This lady is one of my favorite bloggers.  She just tells it like it is and I appreciate her honesty and humor.  She created the Best Liar Award and here are her rules…THERE ARE NO RULES!  Gotta love that, right?

Basically, you write six statements about yourself – 3 true, 3 untrue – then ask your readers to guess which ones are true.

So, here I go:

1.  Once, my best friend and I chased emergency vehicles w/ lights on and ended up stuck in a police shootout.

2.  I’m a descendant from Royalty.

3.  Every Sunday I spend the day cooking meals for the entire week.

4.  I think in even numbers (some say it’s a form of OCD…to them, I say shut up – twice)

5.  While riding a bike when I was a kid, I crashed into a brick mailbox, landed in a bush, and broke off a toenail.

6.  I won $1,000 in a poker tournament

Ok, so what’s true?  What’s not true?

More from The Hobbler

If you want to do this, I would love to guess some of yours, so make your own blog entry about it and give me a link…unless you don’t want me to know, in which case you are kind of mean, but whatever…there is no rule saying you have to thank me for the awesome idea. Also, if you want to hear someone else’s truths and lies, you could send them the Best Liar link, but they don’t have to do it if they don’t want to. 

And I know there is no rule that says we must say thank you for the idea, but I loved this idea so THANK YOU!

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