I think most humans take a bad event and try to find the good in it.
Like, the life and death of Terri Schiavo. It was a no-win situation, really. But out of this whole situation, the world is talking.
People are writing living wills, taking to each other about "what if", debating when does life end, rather than the usual abortion-when-does-life-begin issue.
This is a good thing. We should talk about this stuff.
When my nephew died, we all tried to find the "good" in it. Of course we all knew that we weren't going to find anything that would make us glad he died but we just wanted to hang on to something...anything.
Because of his death, my sister and I have gotten closer.
There was a time, not so long ago, that I felt like I didn't quite belong in my family. There is a 10 year gap between me and the next oldest sister and I don't share the same father with my 3 oldest sisters so I always felt like an outsider. I just didn't quite fit in.
But because of our close proximity in ages and some deep cosmic connection, I did feel very close to my nephew and his little brother.
Now, their mother, my sister, is clinging to me as if I am doing something that makes her feel better when I'm around.
For once, someone in my family wants me around all the time...not only wants me around but NEEDS me around.
I like that, being needed so desperately. I feel closer to Rick when I'm there anyway so I am being healed a little when I'm helping them heal a little.
I've also emailed a cousin to whom I've never particularly been close to although he's only 2 years younger than me.
His parents moved out of state when we were pretty young so we never spent much time together.
For some reason I felt drawn to him at my nephew's funeral. Rick thought the world of our cousin and I wanted him to know that.
I also wanted him to know that I thought he was special. Something was telling me that my cousin was a lot like Rick, a bright light, a person with an unspoken quality about them.
So, I emailed him and told him.
I figured this would be a shock to him because the only time we ever talk is at funerals and occasional family holidays.
I'm talking once a year, maybe.
He was flattered but not shocked. He said that he felt the same way about me. He felt like we were connecting now on a higher level than with other family members. It wasn't through email or spoken words but on some kind of cosmic level.
He had that with my father, he said, so it was no surprise to him that he felt that way with me.
This was a surprise. A nice surprise.
I like to think that Rick's at work here. He's bringing people together.
So, maybe this impossible Terri Schiavo situation will bring good things eventually.
It's definitely making me examine my life and eventual death and little better.
In all the wrong places.
Acidman is in need of a woman.
I figured I would enlist the help of my 3 readers.
Can anyone help the man out?
It shouldn't be too difficult because how could any woman resist this:
I've decided that I DO need a woman in my life after all. I am 53 years old, broken-down and a lousy housekeeper, although I am an excellent cook. I own my own home and I ain't hurting for money, even though I don't work anymore.
And he doesn't want just ANYONE.
I have no kids in the house and I don't like cats. I would prefer to have no pets at all, so that if we decided to go to Costa Rica for a week, we could just pick up and go. I need my quiet time every day to blog and write--- you will be my partner but NOT the center of my universe-- so you need to have some interests of your own. If you blogged, too, that would be nice.I would prefer someone shorter than I am, but that's not a big issue with me. I do not want a "LARGE" woman, who weighs twice what I do. Plump or Rubenesque is okay, but I just don't find really fat wimmen sexy. I'm sorry for any insults I just hurled, but I speak the truth. I don't really like super-big tits, either.
A man has to have standards, you know!
I just realized this morning that I missed my 2nd blogiversary.
I posted my first blog entry on March 14, 2003.
Hard to believe I've been a mediocre (at best) blogger for two years!
Anyway, Happy Blogiversary to me!
I've never mentioned exactly where I live but if the world didn't know us for the 1947 disaster, they know us now for the horrible explosion yesterday.
I spoke about the death of my nephew in a few recent posts. Well, his father, my brother in law works in that refinery as does my oldest sister, my 3rd oldest sister and my mother.
Needless to say, I was VERY concerned when my best friend called me at 1:19pm yesterday to tell me the refinery just had a HUGE explosion and she not only saw it but felt it as she was driving. I was a few towns over and didn't feel it but many other towns did.
To be honest, I stopped hearing everything she said after "explosion at BP".
I started panicking on the inside but on the outside I was calm as I said, "I need to go so I can call my mom."
I ran to the back and started making phone calls. As I was trying to dial, my fingers fumbled over the buttons. I kept saying to myself, "This can't be. Please don't let it be one of us."
My mother is a medical personnel in the refinery and I knew all hell was probably breaking loose in her office but I had no idea what happened so I wanted to make sure she was ok. They were too busy to put her on the phone but at least I knew she was alive.
I tried calling my sister (the mother of my deceased nephew) to see if she had heard from her husband. The line was busy.
I then called my other sister who is in one of the offices there. She saw it was me calling and answered the phone by saying, "It's us! It's us!"
She was clarifying for me because this refinery is smack dab between several others so sometimes we outsiders don't know for sure which plant is on fire or exploding.
She was VERY upset. She's been working out there for many years and has never felt anything like it. The explosion made her feel like she was being picked up off the ground and slammed back down.
She assured me that it wasn't my brother in law's unit. I was relieved but so concerned for my other sister who was at home by herself.
When I called her she was hysterical. She knew her husband was now safe but this was just too much for our very raw nerves.
I left work and went to her house to be with her.
I am not sure why but ever since my nephew died, my presence is very comforting to her. She wants me around all the time anyway so I knew I was needed at this time.
We both came to the realization yesterday that if ever there was a major disaster at that refinery that 90% of our family would be gone.
She and I would be the only ones left.
We watched the constant coverage on TV all afternoon and one by one, our family members started trickling in, thankfully, all safe.
15 families were not so lucky.
My memories of what it is like to wonder if your loved one is safe and finding out they are gone are still quite vivid.
I can completely sympathize with what they are all going through. It's a nightmare.
They are wishing that they could pinch themselves and wake up.
My heart breaks for them.
These incidents are always in the back of our minds. We are a town of approximately 50,000 people and each one of us know that it's possible that one really good fuck up could level the entire town.
But hell, one good earthquake in California, one good tornado in Kansas, one good hurricane in Florida can wipe out a town.
We benefit from these dangerous refineries with lower taxes, good property values and lots of peripheral businesses.
But.
We know. It's coming.
After all we've been through as a family, maybe it's time to make some changes. We know what it's like to lose. Do we want to go through it again?
I know you don't want me to talk about it.
Hell, I don't really want to talk about it.
But it's everywhere.
Yes, it's Terri Schiavo I speak of.
I just want to offer up my opinion.
She is a human being. She can breathe without tubes, right? She just needs the tubes for food.
So, when they remove the tube, she will essentially starve to death.
Her husband has a new girlfriend and wants his current wife to starve to death.
And there are government officials saying that's ok.
What in the hell is going on here?
Do you really think Terri Schiavo once said, "Hey, if I ever go into a vegetative state, could you please starve me until I waste away and die in agony?"
I wondered how long it would take a human to die of starvation.
I went to Merck for an answer:
The basic metabolic response to starvation is conservation of energy and body tissues. However, the body will mobilize its own tissues as a source of energy, which results in the destruction of visceral organs and muscle and in extreme shrinkage of adipose tissue. Total starvation is fatal in 8 to 12 wk.
In 8 to 12 weeks, her organs will have shrunk, her muscles deteriorated, tissues shrinkage, etc..
This is not humane. It's disgusting.
Her family seem to think that she will get better if they will just keep feeding her. I am no medical expert but I'm sort of doubting that, however, starving her to death doesn't seem a viable option.
What would YOU do?
I've decided that I'm no longer hooking up with anyone I meet online. I don't care who he is or how wonderful he may be or he thinks I am.
I suffer from a serious affliction; I am electronically irresistable.
I am all wit and charm and can be extremely flirtacious in a very southern belle kind of way via IM or email but in real life - face to face - I'm a train wreck.
I laugh a little too loud when I'm nervous, I am extremely fidgety and have strange nervous habits like rubbing fabric with my fingers, wringing my hands, running my fingers through my hair repeatedly.
I get tongue-tied or just say the wrong thing all together.
I'm definitely not pretty or thin regardless of how cute that picture is I may have sent. (Like I'm really going to send someone a picture that isn't extremely flattering.)
I can only imagine the disappointment felt by the man who decides to meet me for dinner or a drink after being so utterly charmed by my emails or instant messages.
So, from now on, I've got to win over the guy with my alluring neuroses, nervous habits and fat ass.
There are guys out there that like that, right? 
My friend Mark is back.
You ever have one of those ideas that you know you
could just make millions off of it if you could just
figure out how to make them work? Like the “No
Hangover” Liquor, or the “Ugly People Turned Pretty”
Pill, or the “Eat It & Lose Weight” Pizza, or the
Speech Converter that makes every conversation that
your girlfriend has with you concerning her feelings,
her parents, her friends, and her inner child, sound
like a rebroadcast of Game Seven of the 1994 NBA
Finals when Vernon Maxwell hit a three in the waning
moments of the game to seal the first ever
championship for Houston (for those of you not from
Houston, I don’t care… we won!)?
It just so happens that I have one of those ideas
right now. If I was smart I would quit my job and
devote my full life to developing this product because
it’s a friggin’ goldmine! I could make a billion
dollars off of this idea if I just knew a little about
math, technology, computer chips, law, and wave
frequencies.
I call it the “Ultimate Cell Phone.” And it will
change the way people interact with each other. It
will change the way you view your life. It will,
literally, bring about a new consciousness to the
World of Cellular… without a doubt.
And, you wanna know why?
Because my phone will come with a feature that no
other phone has. Oh sure, it will still have text
messaging, voice mail, pictures, camera, sounds,
songs, games, and all the rest. The lone difference
will be what is called a DD-Chip. Not V-Chip. DD-Chip.
And, that one difference will make my phone far
superior to every other phone, and make me one of the
richest men on the planet.
A DD-Chip is simply this. You know how in some states
when you get a DUI you have to have a Breathalyzer
installed on your vehicle so that if you ever try to
“drink and drive” again your car won’t start? Yeah,
well, it’s basically the same idea. Under the
mouthpiece of every phone that I make will be what’s
called the “DD-Chip”, or as it’s better known, “The
Drunk Dialie Chip.” And, it will change how people
relate to each other forever.
From now on, when you go out and get wasted somewhere,
and you get home and there’s nothing there but you, a
few scattered empty “to-go” boxes, and some nostalgia…
when you go to make that call, that call you KNOW you
shouldn’t be making, that call that everyone who knows
you would kick your ass if they were there… it
automatically shuts down your phone.
Here’s how it works.
When you dial the number, and press the phone to your
ear, it automatically determines by your breath into
the mouthpiece what your blood/alcohol rate is at that
time. And, if it’s over .08, then it turns off all
power to the phone so that particular call does not go
through. After a 2 minute window, it comes back on;
however, with a few exceptions. ALL numbers are
unavailable for you to dial except these: 911, your
mom, your pastor/priest, your best friend of the same
sex, and your sponsor at AA. That’s it! No other
numbers work. And, if in your drunken state you try to
dial a number that is not on that list, after three
attempts, it deletes the number from it’s memory bank,
and will never allow that number to be placed on that
phone again.
This sound tremendous, I know. I can hear you saying
to yourself, “This man is a genius!” But… wait…
there’s even more! Not only will my phone do all that
for you, it will even go the extra mile.
Let’s say that you’re a strong enough person that you
don’t even have to worry about calling past
relationships when you’re a little tipsy. Maybe you
have your whole life together, you’ve moved on, you’re
pretty much good. Doesn’t mean they are. So, here’s
how far my phones will go to protect, not only you
from you, but you from them.
If you ever get a phone call from an ex… my phone will
examine their speech patterns to determine if it’s
possible that THEY are a little tipsy, and if the
results prove that it’s possible that said person has
consumed alcoholic beverages recently, it will kick
off a sensor that immediately starts playing Bon
Jovi’s “You Give Love A Bad Name” and the plasma
screen on your phone will start flashing the word
“Bullshit!”
“This is awesome!” you say. “How could we want for
anything more!” you say. You’re thinking, “Can I have
this man’s children?!” I know. I know. But, don’t get
too excited yet. ‘Cause there’s even more!
Because not only will my phone detect if that person
is drunk dialing you, not only will it tell you, not
only will it play some bad-ass 80’s long-haired rock…
but it will also record the entire conversation, and
after completion of said conversation, it will email a
transcript to every person on your phone list, and
every person on their phone list. It’s what I call
“The Solid Proof Theory” and it may come in handy in
court someday. I know. I go above and beyond. It’s
what I do.
So, anyway, that’s my idea. Please, no one rip me off.
I really got to do some studying on… uh… well, pretty
much everything that comes with that idea. But, I do
think after I kidnap a few scientist we will be able
to make this work, and we can make this world a better
place to live in. And, of course, by “live in” I mean
“drink in.”
I received an extremely ugly comment on an entry where I talked about my nephew's death.
It certainly didn't make me cry but it made me worry about the youth of this country. It was a teenage highschool student. His IP address led me to his school's Information Processing class, which in turn I looked up their address and phone number and I'm half tempted to call to let them know that on school time, their students are insulting and harrassing people on the internet.
I probably wouldn't have thought of doing that until I saw how this child got to my blog. He found me by typing "death to all that stand in my way" in a search engine. (Why I'm #3 on MSN search is BEYOND me!)
I'm sure it's all a stupid teenage boy thing but excuse me for being vindictive and vicious. I have a right. :)
I know you're here.
I saw you visited my blog for 3 hours today.
I know you used Mamma.com to look up "it's all about de".
Is www.itsallaboutde.com too difficult for your small, pathetic brain to remember?
I hope you enjoy reading about my grief and my pain.
I hope you enjoy the amount of time you waste during the week scouring my blog looking for information you won't find.
I'm not going to talk about the people you so desperately want to read about, so go the fuck away.
There has been too much death in my life lately.
Unfortunately, none of us are immune to it.
One of my favorite bloggers lost his mother this morning.
My deepest condolences to Rob at Gut Rumbles.
Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean.
I present my new tattoo.
This tattoo has a LOT of meaning for me. It's the tattoo my nephew had on his left shoulder.
When he was in highschool, he had his art teacher draw him this picture and when he turned 18, he had this tattooed on his shoulder.
His parents were very upset but soon got over it.
He was very proud of this tattoo and it looked SO good on him.
A few days after he died, his brother and I searched for the original drawing in his room with the idea of using it for the funeral programs but I got the idea that I would have the tattoo put on myself.
I didn't want to tell his parents because I wasn't sure how they would feel about it.
When I mentioned that I found the drawing, the first thing his dad, my brother-in-law said was, "Hey! I think I'm going to have that tattoo done!"
Soon, my sister was on board as was several of Rick's best friends.
We went back to the tattoo artist that originally did the tattoo, who also has done most of my tattoos, and we were all inked.
It was SO weird seeing my 44 year old sister in that chair being tattooed. I almost wanted to run and stop her because it seemed so odd.
She was so excited getting her first tattoo because she felt so close to her son.
The guys got his full name above the sailfish but I just had "Rick" done by the tail.
I'm very happy with it.
I just hope Rick is too.
I don't write on my blog about him everyday but I do think about him all the time. Nearly every minute of everyday.
I think about how I won't see my 23 year old nephew again, how he won't turn 24 next month.
I think about his smile or how quickly he would laugh at my jokes. I think about how he would seek me out at family gatherings and in every picture of Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, birthdays, etc., he is sitting next to me.
I think about the special memories that he and I shared, memories that no one else has.
Memories of playing Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt on his first Nintendo and how he would get a little frustrated with me when I couldn't shoot all the ducks. Watching Donna Reed and Mr. Ed on Nick at Night. Walking to the corner store for snacks and him trying Tahitian Treat for the first time. We talked about Tahitian Treat for years, as late as last Thanksgiving, even.
I think about how one year, he wanted to give me a really good birthday gift because I was the coolest aunt in the world. He gave it so much thought and then it hit him! Baseball cards! He and I use to talk about baseball a lot so he just knew that I'd LOVE baseball cards. Not just any cards but cards from his own collection. He went through his own vast collection of trading cards and picked out a bunch he thought I would like. He put them in a box and wrapped it himself. He then cut out a funny cartoon from the newspaper and taped it to the top with a note that said, "To the best aunt in the world. Love, Rick. The original party animal!" (Remember the Spuds MacKenzie days?)
I still have those baseball cards. As a 14 or 15 year old girl, baseball cards meant nothing to me, but THOSE baseball cards were the best gift I had ever received. They still are.
How is it that the world just goes on?
How am I getting out of bed everyday, going to work everyday, holding conversations with people everyday?
How in the world do I get the energy to smile or even laugh?
Anyone who knows me, knows how special my nephew was. I bragged on him all the time. He WAS special. Not just to me but to everyone that knew him.
He had something that drew people to him.
I called it a "light" and we were all moths. There were approximately 700 moths at his funeral. The largest funeral that place has ever had.
He wasn't just special to me or our family. Everyone knew about his light.
My sister, his mother, wonders if he wasn't an angel sent down here to touch a few lives.
I am starting to wonder that myself.
Long before he died, she always said that he was so easy to raise. He never worried her, he never talked back, was always easy-going, polite and happy.
She and her husband thought he was so wonderful because they were such amazing parents so they tried very hard to have another.
The younger nephew came along and changed their minds. Oh, he is wonderful too, but in a different way. In a "I'm going to climb everything, break everything, drive you absolutely crazy but then make you laugh about it" way.
So, it wasn't just skilled parenting. Rick was special. Angelic.
I guess angels can't stay on Earth forever but at least I have my own angel now watching over me.
Right after Christmas I bought a large, lovely volume of poetry by Czeslaw Milosz. I've been picking it up about once a week since then to read a few poems, when the mood strikes me.
The other night I was reading it before bed. When I got sleepy, I sat it on the windowsill next to my bed and there it sat for the next few days.
Yesterday, it rained all day. It rained HARD. The wind was blowing causing it to rain sideways at times.
Last night, I picked up my book to read and the entire bottom half of the book was soaked. My window was leaking.
The book is ruined.
And for some reason I cried. I didn't sob uncontrollably but tears came to my eyes.
Was I crying for my lost book? I doubt it. It's just everything ELSE that's going on, I'm sure.
But DAMN I loved that book!
I got my fifth - and probably final - tattoo on Sunday.
Ok, this one hurt. Still does, actually. The area I chose seemed to be extremely sensitive and parts of the tattoo required lots of detail and shading.
There is an excitement about getting a tattoo. When you have a good artist, he is excited about it too and offers some creative advice.
The adrenaline starts pumping while the tattooing process is going on and lasts well after it's over.
While I was having it done, I decided that this is probably my last. I'm by no means a heavily tattooed person; I have 4 relatively small tattoos. This last one is bigger but not huge. But I've run out of places on my body that I feel are appropriate for my tattoos. Ankles, back of the neck hip, thigh. I won't do the lower back like SO many women do mostly because I don't wear low rise jeans that show off that kind of tattoo.
However, I never say never because that is always that chance that I'll run across something I really like or reach some milestone or suffer an event that will necessitate a permanent memorial.
I've still got LOTS of skin!