The 13th Apostol

The Flats

Andrew Winninghams Rebuttal

Sorry this didn't get to you sooner, I mistyped your email address when I tried sending this to you the first time.

I just read your recent blog post about me - thanks for your interest in my candidacy, but there are a few misunderstandings that I would like to clear up.
I know of no trust fund that names me as a beneficiary, and I have never received a payment from a trust fund.  My grandfather only died about a year ago, and his estate passed to my grandmother (as far as I know).  My grandmother gave part of the money from my grandfather's life insurance policy to my wife and I, the bulk of which we invested.
I was raised by a single, working mother with limited access to child support - I had a great childhood and went to good schools.
I have been out discussing issues with voters at the doorstep since May.  Yesterday alone, I knocked on over 200 doors.  I wear slacks and a button-down shirt because I take this campaign and the office seriously, and I would like my appearance to reflect that.  If you had a flyer on your door, then you are on my list, and I have knocked on your door twice.
It is unfortunate that you do not appreciate my campaign strategy, but in my experience at the door, people do care that my opponent is a lobbyist, and they do care that his campaign has raised tens of thousands of dollars for our state rep seat.  If it isn't important to you, my website and the other literature I've left on your door explain a bit more about my issue positions.
Which big brother are you talking about?

~Andrew Winningham
(You can certainly call me Andy, also - I started going by Andrew two years ago, so only people I've met since then really call me Andrew, anyways.)

Dear Andy:

You absolutely MUST be prepared for these types of "Interests in your Candidacy" in the political arena.
Your life will become an open book, people will say things that are and are not true...

Are you mature enough NOT to respond when someone blogs about you?
Or better yet, do you care enough to change things? Truly, were so sick of seeing politicians who look like mannequins.

I lived a sheltered life just like you until I was 34 years old. Nary a speeding ticket. Private school education. A privileged childhood I had.
The truth is, it's a long ways from Deer Creek to the hood. From Nichols Hills, to the bowels of the inner city.
I've fought, scraped, and struggled to get my child out of City Housing...without ANY child support. Have you ever seen city housing? I am now a home owner in your district...

Are you not the full grandson of William Morris? (Morris Chevrolet) Deceased now over 20 years, and legalities aside, had a right to what was yours as did your brothers. I doubt your mom had to live in the projects to support you, but we all can't be so lucky.

Who came up with this campaign strategy anyway? Not once on your not-on-recycled-paper-handouts that are littering the neighborhood, did you address one single issue that MATTERS today.

What makes you any different than any other politician (some of which I consider close friends)

What about funding for mental health care? For long term drug and alcohol treatment?
There's no beds available unless you have private pay insurance. People are dying, and all you can come up with is "Don't vote for him, vote for me...because I'm not raising a bunch of money!" Genius.

You know by now I'm not a liberal, but I'll be damned if I support my party when the people in power continue to ignore the thousands of families waiting for housing in the city alone.
You'll push issues aside just like everyone else does once they get elected, because the problems are too big and there's really cool things like having major league teams come live here to address first.

I'll vote for you on one condition. I'll vote for you if you take excellent care of Billy.
Whatever he needs YOU make sure he gets.
YOU be the one to make sure he doesn't end up a statistic. YOU be the one to claim him.

With that said, just be aware there will always be someone out there who knows something about you you don't want them to know.
Be honest about it. Be who you are, not who you think people want you to be, hit the real issues, don't go on statistics (they're highly over rated)
There are very poor people living in your district, elderly people who still can't afford ice storm damage repair, living on a fixed income, too proud to tell a young man and his wife running for office...they live on tuna fish so they can eat with their cat.

Praxis Development's CEO Kory Warr raised the rent on Mayfair Market to intentionally sell out to CVS. The Market used to deliver groceries to our elderly, home-bound neighbors. How do they get their groceries NOW? (He also sold this house w/ a fraudulent disclosure, but because it's in this district does not qualify for rehab assistance)

You are dealing with generations of individuals, you are dealing with renters, multi cultural families, women who have had abortions, who gives a rats ass how many doors you knocked on. Did you attend the Neighborhood Housing Meeting? Churches in your district? Stand outside Jim's Barber Shop, Walgreens, etc. and shake hands?

Try something new...because right now if you asked my 78 yr old neighbor across the street who he was to vote for...he wouldn't know the difference between you and whats-his-name.

Rent a giant balloon bounce, put it up at the elementary school, or Mayfair parking lot (contact Praxis Development of course for permission) and draw ATTENTION to yourself Andy.
Put on a T-shirt and shorts and get out there and talk with "The people"...stop taking the election so seriously, and start taking the issues and the people seriously.

You have to pay nearly $4.00 a gallon for gas just like the rest of us...

NEVER be afraid to do a new trick, it just might land you a career.

Mid Summers Night Faerie Ball '08

Once a year, for one evening only, this Mid Summers Nights Eve on Paseo with a full moon shining down...parents sparkle their children and watch them twirl in the magical moonlight, to New Age sounds and twinkling lights.

This year the venue changed from Tom's old church lawn, to...a vacant parking lot in order to accommodate the growing crowds through the years.
The babies, children and animals were just as glorious as ever. Performance from "Once Upon a Stardance Swan" just as amazing thanks to Director and Advocate, Lori Keller.

You see, the wee ones from years past don't quit attending, they just grow up to be more grand a faerie, elf, imp, or magical creature of a warm summers night, than before.

Some of you have been with me long enough to remember when I first started this site. Back in the days of "Lords" and wounded children, wounding children. I don't forget, but I forgive. Mer is something else in his own right.
The wounds of hateful adults go deep in his soul, have carved away his innocence before my very eyes. I trust and make mistakes that cost my child. I do stupid things out of my own pain and loss.

On nights like last night I see Mer's innocence lost more than ever. He has given up and gone to the "Other" side. It hurts too much to be vulnerable in life, hurts too much to trust, to love, to hope, to dream. (either that or he just likes black)

Mer wants to be a baby again, and simultaneously a teenager, which represents freedom in his mind. His walls have become thick as English stone, while I grasp for solutions to make us a "Family" somehow.

My ideas are lost in the reality of this worlds anger and hatred.
Should I have hit Mer too teach him "right from wrong?"
Should I ground him for being a boy?
Should I quit trying completely?

I am told by women who have no children "I spoil my child"
I am told by women who have children "I a don't do enough"
What do I know about raising a boy who had a sister one day then did not?
He wants to play with the little girls, wants to dress up and pretend it's all OK.
It's not "All OK", and to feed a child a line of bullshit like that, is exceptionally unkind and unfair...they know the truth.

All I care about is if Mer is happy, which he is...and is not.

So as I watched those beautiful angels dance with abandon in the moonlight, I said a prayer in my heart they all went home to love and respect, that no one hurt them or stole their innocence, that all things magical and mysterious were good in their lives for as long as the world allowed...
and that someone always protected them.

Mid Summers Night Faerie Ball Year 6 for Mer.

Once again, for the the sixth year in a row...we are heading to the Mid Summer Nights Faerie Ball.

Once again, Mer will dance in the moonlight, dreaming dreams to sacred to share with anyone.
Once again, so many years after we left the hood, Mer barely remembers the way things were, and has no idea how things are to be. (neither do I, but they just keep getting better)

We are happy tonight.

Let him play, be free, dance and move with complete abandon...unlike my childhood.
I want so much for his to be pure, innocent and needing of me less as he grows.

I'll continue to attend The Faerie Ball as able, until funding runs out, or I can't get my wheelchair in all the right places.

Magic, is so rare here.
A thing to be cherished in our heart of hearts.

Hank "Mer-Boy" Aaron

Mer-Boy is getting ready to turn ten-years-old in a few weeks.
I'm going to have a child in the double digits.
He's already pulling away, growing up, just like all those strange faces who peeked into my sarong, or carrier said he would...

He shadows the guards at the pool, he gets to "Officially" be a Jr. Lifeguard when he turns ten.

Has a damn good arm, and loves baseball.

How did it happen that I let him grow up? How did he accidentally slip from my grasp and become so not-a-toddler? No Kisses, no hugs, I miss them so...you have to let him go mama.

You have to let him grow.

Martha! There's a Principled Conservative in the Backyard!

So...I get this flier left on my door as Mer, Syd and I were watching some movie called Cloverfield, or Coverdale, or, I know, I'm an baaad mother...I'd been up since 2:30 the morning before (because sometimes the pain wont let me go back to sleep, this is when I WORK) so the movie just seemed humorous to all of us...I think. Either humorous or two, almost ten-year-olds are scarred for life.

The next morning, that would be yesterday, as were trying to get Syd back to her house and Mer down to Edgemere Park to a Webelo/Cub/Boy Scout cookout...I looked at the flippin flyer stuck to my front door.

Holy Mother of the Political Caucus, Andy (Andrew) Winningham (we used to call him winning-pork because kids are shits) is running for State Rep HD 87!

There's a principled CONSERVATIVE in my backyard!

Here's what Andy Winningham is committed to (other than his trust fund from Gramps) Let's see:

*The Constitution (needs to be updated to include WOMEN, MINORITIES, and CATS)
*Limited Government (isn't that a contradiction)
*Individual Freedom (just hold on Martha)
*Low Taxes (Uh huh)
*Property Rights (You bet your Smith & Wesson)
*Free Enterprise (thank goodness for that trust fund)
*Right of Self Defense (Unless it's DHS knocking at your door)
*Local School Innovation (is your trust fund gonna cover this?)
*Rights of the Unborn (but a second ago you said "Individual Freedom"?)
*10th Amendment (for those of you who don't KNOW the 10th Amendment, it's right here ) written by a good UNITARIAN, and more commonly known as SOVEREIGNTY.

So basically, poor Andy Andrew is all confused (or I am) because all I'm seeing is contradictions and a little rich kid who is making a "Pledge" not to accept campaign donations from special interest group PACs or lobbyists.

In addition to pledging not to spend more than the "Median Household Income" of our district $39,189 (who's income?) quoting: "Why should folks have a State Representative who spends more money on a primary than they make in a year?"

Are womens issues a matter of interest to you Mr. Winningham?
Do you know what percentage of your district are single educated women?
Some with children, some without?
Are you aware of the increase in crime down here by Winningham & Stein?
Are you aware there is no Federal or local housing rehab funding available for your district? For the elderly, the disabled? Huh? Are ya?
Didn't think so.

BECAUSE you, and every other State Representative base their knowledge on statistics (median household income my ASS) rather than human beings, then come up with some SALES gimmick you think will make you like every one of us.

If you want to know the truth, get out of your office, put on a T-shirt and shorts (no one wants to talk to some jerk in a broadcloth and slacks) get your ass out here in the evenings, close your mouth, open your ears and listen.

Then, I really don't care WHAT you spend on your campaign...as long as you get something done. You THINK you're speaking to the masses, but honey you're not.

Maybe 40 yrs ago.

Lets talk about what Grandpa's your money can really do for us...

I drive my son to the other side of town to attend a school that can and will educate him.
I'm paying on two properties in order to accomplish this.
I spend $350 a month in gas (as of last year) to get him there and back every day.
I'm a single mother with no regular child support.
If I use my social to earn an income, I lose my state medical coverage.
I'd spend $3000 a month on prescriptions alone if I had to pay out of pocket because of my son's medical condition.
My 89 yr old next door neighbor spends more than that, lives alone, doesn't own a vehicle and has owned her house for 45 yrs.
We both need work done on our homes, but can't afford it, and don't qualify for assistance because we "make too much money" and don't live in "The Hood".

If your going to Represent, then you better get a clear idea of ALL the people, not just the statisticians interpretation of.

...and call your big brother, he loves you.

Fantasy or Reality?

Briefly,

Friends respond to invitations to do things with them,
not call you and tell you all the things they've done with others.

Friends hold your secrets safe in their heart,
not share them as "Juice" to get attention from others.

Friends love you through the bad times even more,
not blow you off because you're bat-shit crazy.

Friends tell you the truth,
not what they think you want to hear.

Friends share their children, their lives, their losses, their triumphs...
Friends reciprocate the love, which is an action, between.

Schardein & Co. OKC

I was given an opportunity by "Campbell Company's" advertising Guru Robyn Healy, to visit Oklahoma City's Premier Full Service Salon, Schardein & Company located at 9401 N May. Once for Mer on Saturday, then for myself yesterday.

The first thing you notice upon entering, is the ambiance. Uber cool aesthetics only embellish the warmth of the human beings greeting you at the door. Your senses are gently taken over by all the right colours, music, and lack of noisy tools of the trade.

You sign a guest card, and are immediately announced over a (quiet) loud speaker to your hair muse. Our hair muse this weekend was an accomplished young man named Sean Eckart.

The owner Steve Schardein spares no expense when it comes to his hair muses.
Hand picking his "Family Members", to create the legend Schardein & Co. is fast becoming in across the Midwest as well as Oklahoma City.

Once a week on Tuesday's the salon shuts down between 1:00 and 3:00. No appointments will be set during this time. It's a time of education, demonstration, growth and learning for his muses. From "Life Coaches" coming in from California, to specialized colour technicians. Each week Schardein & Co. gets bigger and better, leaving the competition in the Oklahoma dust.

My muse Sean, did things to my hair no one has ever done before. Using a European coloring system called Goldwell, Sean stained my bleached out chunks a deep husky red. The Goldwell system is unique to any other coloring system used stateside, and due to it's distribution being metric...many colourists shy away from Goldwell's state of the art system. This is what I mean when I say Steve Schardein spares no expense in training his muses. You'll find no label, over-marketed products used in this salon.

Schardein & Co. is like stepping into a New York salon, or better yet, slipping off a hot Parisian street into a Euro salon of utter decadence...brilliant!

Your muse will block out enough time for consultation, get to know your lifestyle, what you like and don't like about your hair (and your life for that matter) with the most positive attitudes you'll ever hear in a salon. No gossip, no back stabbing, no "Talking trash" on other salons or colourists...it's akin to a therapy session, and before your done your thinking about your next visit...

The rinse "room" is a long section of wall, otherwise the salon is one big open space that would bring tears to a Feng Shui masters eyes, where each month the wall is adorned with a different local artists work. Each rinse chair is positioned in direct sight of the wall as your eyes make contact with the artisan's breath of life.

This months featured artist is Amber Malaska Redden, who goes by the name "The Creative Native". Her work is bright, happy, and full of joy, just like Schardein & Co..

Even with back problems, my muse Sean was able to rinse me, massage my neck and scalp, without getting one drop of water in my face...This may not seem like a big deal to you, but with this mop of mine, getting my hair done has always left me feeling as if I'd had the crap beat out of me, then baptized by a Southern Baptist church in Bowlegs Ok.

As we shift from rinse "Room" to styling section, each "Booth" which "Still-floats" in the openness of Schardein's, is distinguishable by individual blow dyers hanging pendulum style from the jet black ceiling. Enabling your muse to pluck it from mid air as needed.

One final thought on Schardein & Co.

I've never felt comfortable enough with a stylist muse, as to give them complete creative control over my crowning glory. I did in this salon.

Sean has found his niche and wouldn't live his life anywhere but Schardein's. He love's what he does and you can tell it by the way he wears those "c-boy" boots. I can't recall hearing one negative word spoken by Sean during the two hours I was in his care. You lose all sense of the outside world, forget any "problems" you thought you had, and simply enjoy being in the moment.

Sean gives all credit to Steve Schardein, and a little lady named Shirley who saw a star and helped it burn bright.

Schardein & Company is fast becoming the salon.

Steve Schardein wants more. More from his crew of stylists, colourists, greeters, and of course clientele.

Bookings are taken two weeks in advance at this point, so treat yourself like you deserve and make an appointment of new beginnings...at Schardein & Co.

You wont be left unsatisfied.

Pam Tinsley Re:

You talk about meeting Pam at a local video place called the video zone she never hung out at a video zone in edmond because there was no such place we used to hang out at a pool hall that was named after one of our very good friends. if you want attention this bad please find it somewhere else Pam was a good friend of mine and I hate to see people say things about her thats not true Pam loved her dad she work for him for years along with her brother throwing papers so saying that she was scared that her dad was going to take her car away is nothing but lies. Please find somewhere else to boost your ego.

Posted by: mike | Sunday, July 06, 2008 at 09:55 PM

Dear Mike person,

Thanks for the eloquent comments. Let me reply by saying:

First, "Video Zone" was in Oklahoma City at May & Wilshire, not Edmond.
Second, I don't use my real name to write on the Net because of safety issues with my son.
Thirdly, you might remember me better weighing in at about 300lbs, but I'm sorry I can't give you my real name because of people like YOU.
YOU obviously didn't know Pam. We met through a guy named "Tarzan" Rick Canter and "Domek" the elder (respectively) and if the truth is too much for people, if you have to make Pam a martyr to live with her actions, then by all means do so. I loved Pam, but the truth is still the truth.

For years I made people like Pam, Robert Jones, Allen Jones, etc. matyrs...but the reality is they did what they did that placed them in the position to be harmed.
Robert drove drunk like a maniac on a consistent basis.

Pam jumped on the back of motorcycles with people she didn't know. "Give me a ride!" was not at all uncommon. If you knew her you knew her behavior.

Maybe if people stopped idolizing the "Missing Pam" and started telling the truth, police could get to the bottom of this shit.

Yes, Pam worked hard for her dad for years, but why? Do you know? I do.

So do your research a little better before you start running your mouth about me Mike, that's what the Internet's for honey.

50th Anniversary Of the International Conference of Young People in AA

Was held right here in OKC this weekend ...and I didn't go :-(
Not that I didn't want to. Oklahoma has been bidding on this conference since at least '90 or '91 that I know of, and finally got it. This was a once in a lifetime event.

My friend Terry Carpenter, who died sober of chronic hepatitis wanted this conference so bad back then...but all we had was some small venues, a water park and western theme park. We sent him to bid even though we knew we wouldn't get it.

Back then, there was no "Bricktown", no "Cox" convention center, no downtown OKC as you see it today, and my friend, a man who pulled me out of the hood named Steve reminded me of that the other day.

I struggle with my anonymity on this website, I'm listed with recovery blogs, but I am and have been a member of "a certain non specific 12-step program" for twenty years. (not claiming continuous sobriety y'all)

Didn't attend the conference, because I live with chronic pain today, I've chosen not to rely on pain medication to do life. It sucks, but until they fix, or at least get this thing out of my back, I have limitations.

I have a child to care for, which means I must take care of myself FIRST. That's so hard for a mama of Greek origin to do. I have whined, bitched, felt sorry for myself. pouted, cried (no, I think it was a fake cry) over this conference.

Last night I finally turned it over.
My Sponsor Robyn and I took Mer-boy and her Nephew Frankie to see a movie.
Yes I wet my pants, but that's OK, we weren't far from home.

I let go of my expectations of going to the conference, let go of my expectations I can do everything I used to do. I cannot, not today, not yet, maybe never...but tomorrow is not reality.

I know when someone is doing this deal, because I see it in their actions.
We get sober and grow up, not get sober and live off others generosity or love, money or guilt.
We come in and do this deal and start helping others to stay sober.
It stops being all about me, me, me, me.

That's when the real miracles begin.

We give from our heart, our time, love, money, effort, whatever it takes to help another get on their feet.
We offer jobs, open our homes, lose sleep.

We stop the bullshit.

ICYPAA represents a year of hard work on the part of so many people who live this program.
Committee meetings twice a month, "Earth People" don't understand the challenge of getting something like this organized by recovering Alcoholics.
It's dedication and commitment unsurpassed by any other group of young people I've ever seen.

Sitting in the ICYPAA committee meetings, listening to young people I watched grow up, organize and tweak this event into something of International proportions...was nothing short of miraculous. I'm proud of them, proud of James B., Taryn G., and every single Service Chair, Volunteer, etc.

I'm grateful I'm a sober member of "a certain non specific 12 step program".
I was there in spirit you guys...all the way!

Pam Tinsley

Pam Tinsley was my best friend.
She was the first and maybe the last.
Pam was gone from my life three days before my mother's suicide.

Pamela Dawn Tinsley is an Oklahoma Cold Case.
Whoever wrote this knew nothing about Pam. NOTHING.

I remember how I quit listening to music back then, and never really started again.
Pam's murder, and we all knew it, was followed six months later by the murder of my boyfriend...over pot. Stabbed with a screwdriver over fucking pot.

We were all idiots. Why I'm still here I don't know.

Pam and I met when I was 16 and she was 14 and hated each other immediately.
We were the tough bitches, the freaks. Pam in her biker jacket, me with my crazy voodoo wannabe shit. (I used to wear a crows foot around my neck with the toe nails painted red) Pam thought I was cool, and I thought Pam was beautiful inside...most people never saw past her boobs. Guys wanted them, girls hated her.

We were best friends before the night was over. Pam accepted me like no one ever did, or has since. We drank, got drunk, screwed around a lot...we were invincible.

Pam was smoking weed, I however would forget my name, so I started pretending to  hit it when it came my way..."Drugs" scared me. One time Pam had to babysit me for two days after smoking something laced...calling my dad for me, who was so awesomely cool he just said "Honey I'm disappointed in your choices, but I love you no matter what...drink lots of orange juice" (I miss my dad)

We tried to get Pam to move into my parents house with us to no avail. Her home life was bad. The only reason she wouldn't leave was because of the car, she wanted the car to drive. One time she punched her dad in the face for calling her a whore. I would've also.

The Cold Case story paints a picture of a woman that just wasn't Pam. Pam would go anywhere with anyone for anything. That was just Pam. If it involved getting high, she was in.

I wasn't a bit surprised over what happened, just amazed it hadn't happened sooner. Three days before Pam "Disappeared" she came down and met me at a local arcade "Video Zone", and we sat in the parking lot in her car talking for an hour, taking Polaroid pictures of each other wearing these sunglasses she just bought, being goofy kids again. Not knowing the tragedy that lay ahead for us in the coming week.

A few years after all this, I started fooling around with one of the OKC police officers who responded to the call...(until I found out he was freakin married. Dork.) While we were "Hanging out" he told me they knew absolutely nothing about the case other than what we knew...Pam literally vanished into the Oklahoma dusk.

Twenty-two-years later anonymous calls start coming in...22 yrs later, I still run into people from back in the day who ask "Did they ever find Pam?" Where Pam was I was, and vice verse, that's just how it was when you were best friends.

I've tried over the years to get close to women, to let them in, to "Bond"...but it's that fear in the back of my skull, the ache in my heart, the loss of mother, daughter, friend, that keeps me from opening my heart. The pain, once you've walked through it is so real...you don't ever want to feel it again.

I remember sitting through my mother's memorial service six days after Pam disappeared, when they played "Amazing Grace" I somehow knew Pam was gone for good too.

I think it's only human nature to protect oneself from the flame of loss. I don't know how to get past it, and I so wish I could.

Whoever is trying to make peace with themselves over Pam, just do it and get on with your life. Chances are, knowing Pam, it wasn't your fault.

She was just beautifully broken inside.

High Speed Chase NOT Caught on Film By Apostol

I was right in the middle of the end of this high speed chase last night.
Twelve police units had NW Classen blocked from 36th st. to 30th, one fire engine, two EMSA's ...and I didn't have a camera.
SUCKETH!

I'm pretty sure this is a sign I should forgo all mortgage payments and buy a baby of some type.
See what my thinking is like?
See?
K.

Can You Get a Law Degree On Line?

Mer's favorite TV show right now is "Americas Got Talent" ...("Got" isn't even a word)
Mainly because I don't know how to use the other 389 channels.
I'm a kid of the 60's.
There are only three channels and they all go off the air after the ten 'o clock news.

Mer has a brilliant imagination, and if he learns to channel it into something productive, he could be the next Billy Gates. Since he's only nine, I'm pretty sure he just needs the right kind of attention. At the moment he's bored, mad at the world for losing his friends and the old house (but we all know if there's a hell, SHANNON EDWARDS will be there)

Back to what I was saying about Mer's favorite TV show...
He fantasizes a lot about winning contests, getting attention, people LIKING HIM because I don't flippin' count. I could just quit trying huh?

I asked Mer, "Mer, if you won America's got Talent" and could only take one person with you to Las Vegas...who would it be?"
(because I was expecting us to have a MOMENT)
Mer thought seriously about his answer, then looked me dead center and said "Ember"
Ember? (his friend's mom)
Ember?
EMBER?? WTF Ember? What about me? (I didn't SAY this of course, because God forbid I RE-FUCKING-ACT.

"Oh, (here comes the BS) I bet Ember would love to go with you to Vegas honey...but (gotta throw some reality in his face) who would take care of her family while she was gone?"
"Shane." (Ember's husband)
(Don't lose it, he's nine, he's trying to get a reaction...breathe)
"Honey, Shane would have to work."
(I cannot believe I'm actually engaging with this child like this)
"So, Shane could work and Indigo and Brody could go to their Grandparents while Ember and I went to Vegas"
(I now officially hate my own kid)
"Fine, if you win "America's Got Talent" I'll make sure Ember takes you to the next level in flippin' Vegas. OK?"
"Thanks mom, I love you"

It's going to be a long summer.

Penis, I Call it Many Names

Mama Fix -"Whatcha doin?" -
Mer - "Looking at all the pictures I've taken on my phone."
Mama Fix - "Can I see?"
(hesitates)                                                                           
Mer - "Yeah, but there;s some nasty (where did he learn nasty?) pictures on there I can't figure out how
to delete (right)
Mama Fix - "I don't care what's on there, it's your phone, and i completely understand if you don't want me to see them
Mer - "Weeell, I guess it's Ok. Here, let me show you how to do it."

As we scrolled through the typical "I've got a technical toy" pictures boys love to take...the TV, trees, shots from the balcony at church, I realized nothing "nasty" was appearing anywhere.

Finally near the end I came across a fuzzy picture of what appeared to be an arm pit...low and behold it was a portrait of Mer's  butt from six months ago,  he claims was taken while he was asleep at his friends house. (My kid so sucks at lying)

I assured Mer, that was perfectly normal behavior as long as both of them wanted to play with the phone.
Yes, that's in fact what happened.

Somehow the conversation got on Penis's (the word itself makes Mer cringe and say "Eeewwww, MOM!"

Mama Fix - "well honey, what do YOU call it?"
(pause) and with his head held high he took the phone from me and said,...
Mer - "I call it many names." then turned on his flips and walked out.

Universe, he so needs a dad.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Someone Once Told Me...

Someone once told me "We are all doing the best we can"...
Another person said "We teach people how to treat us"...

Today, I believe those words with all my heart, and I look at people differently than I did in years past. I look at people with my eyes open, I watch their actions, not listen to their words.

"We are as sick as our secrets" doesn't mean you tell the world everything about you, and being accountable is something we do to OURSELVES...no one else.

I've been given a lot of bad advice in my life, when I chose not to listen to my gut. Today, the entire Universe could tell me to do something, but if my gut says otherwise I'm following it instead.

You don't have to believe what anyone tells you...this is what I'm saying, the truth, the absolute truth lies within. Nowhere else.

Not on a giant monitor in a church
Not in your child's eyes
Not in your relationships
Not in your careers
Not in your incomes
Possessions
Sex
Food
How you look

(only how Tan you are, K?)

I am one person finding my way among many. Times are hard for everyone, yet we pull away instead of pulling together. Put our children in daycare instead of the moms houses who don't work, mow our lawns, talk crap on each other, do damage of the worst kind to the weakest of the pack and call ourselves "Better than".

Sometimes, people forget where they came from, and sometimes they never really knew. It's easy to sound like you know a lot about bicycles, if you've worked in a bicycle store all your life...
but if you've never ridden one, that's a different story all together...
now isn't it?

It's a fact that repeated trauma, physical abuse, neglect and religiosity damage a small child's sense of worth and value. 12 step meetings are full of the evidence.

The problem with treating others the way we want to be treated, is so many people still want to be treated like rubbish.

So just for today, don't hit your kid, they're smarter than you give them credit for, treat someone well even if it causes acid reflux, and never ever go to an all night Tanning Salon with all your children in the mini-van.

And so it is.

Pride 08

The 21st Annual Gay Pride Festival comes to a close at 10:00 p.m. tonight, at the fountain park on 31st Classen.

The weather held, which is I'm sure an act of the gospel of Obama or the virgin Oprah or "Obampraha" when we don't have a torrential down pour for more than three days in this town.

First Unitarian of OKC has a float we usually ride or walk along side of. Since they switched things around this year, for what specific reason I've yet to have confirmation, we chose to miss the Parade on Friday night when the festivities kicked off. Usually it's a weeks full of events, all across the city, with the main focus being in the hub of the GLBT community at 39th between N. Western and May ave. Since it was a Friday night  and Mer was with me, I opted for a less frantic evening of hearing my friend Lea speak on Hallowed Ground.

 

Mer and I went back yesterday afternoon and walked around the booths. Seemed more "Low Key" that in years past. Drawing a more family oriented (please no puns) crowd, and of course "The Looky-Loos" (insert eye rolling)

It was hot and nary a free bottle of water was to be found...now come ON peeps?
WTF? One Dollar! give it up...it's water, at least have a hose for people.

I honestly thought about going back out tonight, but was so bummed by the lack of expression in peoples attitudes of PRIDE...I can do laundry and have more support from my rainbow jog bra.

We'll get feed back from Pride Inc. and see what the turnout was like. Nothing I dislike more than being in a fishbowl, I'm too old for that garb'age and bars...well, they don't allow 10 yr olds so I'm safe.

All in all it was a different event than in years past, less leather, less explicit sexuality, but it was still blessed diversity, which the world doesn't have nearly enough of.
One of the defining factors in not pursuing any type of shared parenting with Mer's father and his family of origin, is their absolute belief everything is either black or white. If you aren't like them then you're crazy, nuts, mentally ill, etc.

The sad part is, they are the majority in this world still.
Because I don't want a dead teenage son, I embrace all that Mer is and isn't.
He is wholly himself.
Pride is a necessary part of overcoming the shame this society dumps on you, when you aren't black or White.

Mer calls people of color just what they are. Peachy, brownish, tannish, etc., because he doesn't understand why anyone would think human beings were the absence of color in regards to their skin.

With that said...

Peace to all, and a gentle walk getting there.

No More Second Chances

A friend of mine overdosed on pills and died. Dead. No more second chances.

I've watched a lot of people die in my life close to me.
My parents, friends, a boyfriend, stupid-ass people, but Jennifer hit me square.

The Universe is pretty much indifferent I've come to believe, but I'm all for those who believe otherwise if you treat people well.

The one thing I know deep in my soul is you will run out of second chances if you keep doing what you're doing.

Chalice Camp '08 or Thank God for 9 Volts

I...am a freakin genius who nearly asphyxiated Mer and I with his Chalice Camp sand candle.

How? Well I'll show you a picture of Mer's Chalice Camp sand candle, but there's nothing but a charred glob perched atop his scorched clay bowl from Spring Break art camp...

Last night, we found the lovely clay bowl he'd hand painted and the vibrant red creation of sand, crayons, and wax. It didn't quite fit in the bowl, more like teetered, yeah, it teetered on the rim of the bowl.

Excitement ensued, as we trimmed the little wick back from the small twig it was bound to, set it evenly on the edges of the sculpture, then went about the lighting of Mer's nature Chalice.

As Mer was dozing off, and "The Murdering Shows", as he likes to call them were  coming on...I scooped my camp-weary solder into my arms and waddle-deposited him into his bed with "Leopard Di Caprio" and Cinko his Ugly Doll.

Sigh, just to breathe in his boy-ness as long as I can, his innocence, his pure heart.
Then of course I sneaked into the bedroom to watch "The Murdering show" alone
Somewhere around 1:45 a.m.,  I was awakened by the smoke alarm in the hallway going off, and flames from the sand candle licking the ceiling.

The paint on the clay pot acted as an accelerate, and needless to say I freaked OUT (in my head), but stayed calm enough not to spread the boiling wax across the top of the TV. I grabbed a wet hand towel from the bathroom and gently extinguished the flames. (then quietly so not to wake Mer, shut his bedroom door, and opened windows throughout the house.)

I sprayed deodorizer through out then crawled into bed completely freaking out, inhaling Christ knows what sort of toxic chemicals from the clay pot...because I...I am a freakin genius.

The Loon Whisperer

My friend Lara calls me "The Loon Whisperer".
Chiefly, because every nut case within a thirty mile radius I either attract...
or am attracted to.

Since one of my most glaring character defects is KNOWING ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN ABOUT EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN (it has it's high points) insanity (as in the pathology of) fascinates me like some are fascinated by serial killers...and redundancy.

Lara's ability to talk me out of MY tree, one to seven times a week, has me wondering whom the true "Loon Whisperer" is. Hmm? Today, was Peanut's ballet recital...I've wanted to call Lara all day and give her an atta' girl, but was so afraid I'd start talking about me I haven't.

Lara has been coerced into "Jon-Benet-ing" Peanut up for months in preparation for photos and todays big event. (Lara hasn't seen the crime scene photo's, and has a more twisted sense of humor than mine. Slack please.) To which "Outsiders", even the closest of friends could not attend...especially "The Loon Whisperer".

I can see it now, Peanut all powdered and ribbony (or whatever you do with girls) and here comes the loon whisperer, drawing every unmedicated individual in the joint in her direction, then because I KNOW ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN ABOUT EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN, I would begin my psychoanalysis just as Peanut was pirouetting through a solo that would bring tears to Baryshnikov's eyes.

I'm not ashamed of my "Gift", I was born with it. However I'm learning to use it for good, not evil. The whispering of loons that is.

Now, if I could just convince the gnats/termites/species of unknown origin, it doesn't matter whether they had blue birthday candles on their birthday cakes as children or pink...they are lovable, valuable, creatures...but it's time for them to get their own place. (Maybe a nice loft in Midtown.)

Atta girl Peanut, you have one amazing mama kid!

Instead of calling to support Lara, I went seeking loons to whisper at a Bar-B-Que some mutual friends were having with a live band (which put a big old damper on my whispering) Do not fear, they found me regardless of the acoustics, I feel at least two are now completely healed of their childhood traumas, but the still-smoking guy with one lung may need several more sessions to help him achieve oneness with the Universe.

At one point during our initial "Getting aquainted" stage, he, as loons tend to become, became aggressive toward me for bringing up his deceased (whom he practiced  necrophelia with) mother.

At this point I was over my pseudo-"First do no harm" oath, and needed reinforcement.
Then St. Francis of Assisi (no, he was the animal one) Which saints protect the nut cases? Anyway ONE of the saints sent me a body guard...

Franken-Mer showed up, crazies scattered, and all was right with the world.

Mine, not theirs.

Why I Hate Kids and Grown-ups Suck

THREE HUNDRED AND NINETY SIX DOLLARS.
That's what "Hero"owes on my storage unit...
the one in his name, with mine and Mer's crap in it...FOR A YEAR.

Mer's bicycle, family heirlooms, toys, clothes, I think I will become bulimic again...this feeling crap is killing me.
I need a shot gun and some buck shot, that's what I need.
"Pray for his stupid ass" - my ass, buck shot first, then pray.
He hasn't been paying child support, and now I find out the "Excuse" for lack of said payment, hasn't been paid either...Oh my effin LORD I am losin' my mind.

I've trusted this man three times in my life.
Two are named Mer-boy and Mer-girl...the third is named "I'll pay the storage unit for you".

Asshole.
I'm being eaten alive by gnats and or termites, still using the precious mini fridge lent to us by the Impressive Restorations gang back in DECEMBRE (no, I'm not going to Mexico too, I'm just speed pecking)

I have to be at "Camp West Nile" in an hour, and if I don't get this out into cyberspace, I'll four wheel over some unsuspecting 9 yr old with a green faux hawk.

I hate kids.
No, seriously, I hate kids.
God made a massive error in ovum count, because I HATE KIDS!
Hold on, my pants are suddenly ablaze!

I miss Mer-boy.
He spent six dollars on a "Walking Stick" at the Trading Post, and it was a BROOM HANDLE. (but Mer and I will decorate that effin broom handle so cool he can hike Mt. Rushmore) Can you hike Mt. Rushmore?
Whatever.
Grown-ups suck.
I need a pest control dude and a Valium.

This is NOT my life, it's a joke...right?
THREE HUNDRED AND NINETY SIX DOLLARS
This is why I will never get married again...
unless he works for Orkin, Terminex, or is a black market Pharmacist.

I miss my Pharmacist. Oh Allen...
Life used to be so simple medicated.

This is what I want to know, please Internet help me here...

If the Judge got fed up with "Hero" in December and issued a warrant for his arrest, and yours truly had to pay ($50) to have the papers served to prove we weren't together (as if) and they still haven't picked his dead beat ass up in JUNE...it sounds like they just made $50 off me, plus the $1,000 fine he's being hit with that could give us a HUGE leg up over the summer so I could start back to school in August.

Be thankful for him, why...because he randomly "Mow Stalks" the yard?

Webster's Online Dictionary - (with Multilingual Thesaurus Translation)
defines "Mow Stalking" or Mow Stalker, as -  "an ex-husbands use of a lawn mower to annoy, and or harass the mother of his children, by mowing at inopportune times...such as dusk on Sunday evenings"

You see, I wanted a baby, a child (who needs me less and less sweet mother of immaculate conception) I was willing to do anything to have what I wanted. Even "Hero", but that's another rant.

I watch these dads with their sons, fathers who care in ways akin to my own fathers love. And then there are the dads who are being raised by their sons, in a sick anti-parenting way...but it works I guess.

Six months from now, God willing, I'll be in a better place.
Taking Basc math at OSU OKC, just to get over my fear of my ancestors numerical heresy. Everything has to change, everything...

because this mama wants a Hasselblad H Sytem, to shoot homeless, toothless, dying, living, angry, joyous, full-blooded human beings -  so I can turn around and help them with the profits.

After I buy the shot gun and buck shot of course.

Now, on the "Camp West Nile", alone, single, and damned proud of it!
(though my teeth)
Waaaaaaaaaa!, Sniff, sniff, waaaaaaa!