Sunday Confession: on Monday!

Well, my weekends have been so hectic and crazy I just haven't had a chance to sit down at the computer to do anything! So here is my Sunday Confession...

I have secretly been hoping that the world would stop turning, that I could take a breath and catch up.  I seem to live my life at hyper speed and I never have enough hours in the day.  Why is this?  I do not think I'm the only one suffering from this phenomenon.  It seems to be a pervasive element in today's society - the constant rat race - we all live it and seem to accept it as normal; but is it really?

Were we designed to constantly be living our lives in a state of stress?  I don't think so, I've heard countless "experts" talk about the overload of the cortisol steroid to our systems and how bad it is for us; and yet, nothing changes.  We are still stressed and busy and running on empty.  Why is this what is considered normal now?

I wrote a short story a few days ago, and I plan to share it in my WIP Wednesday post this week.  It is not something that I usually write; but it represents the simpler life I wish I could enjoy with my family and friends.


So, dear readers, here is today's question:
Do you find yourself stuck in a "rat race"?  Do you ever wish the life that you live could slow down a bit?  Am I right in thinking that this issue affects more than just me?

Looking forward to your replies, HAPPY MONDAY!

Freak Out Fridays - Whatever Happened to Caring for One's Fellow Man?

I was reared by my Depression Era-surviving, WWII-fighting, grandparents.  They believed strongly in FDR and "the New Deal", and the world they lived in was one where the "have's" were obligated by our government to help out the "have-not's".  If they were alive today (and still cognitively able to understand our current political climate) they would be utterly disgusted by what is being spewed by some of the GOP.  I say "some" only because I like to believe that the entire Republican party isn't completely off their rocker.

With what I have been seeing lately, reading everywhere, and hearing the GOP candidates say; it got me thinking.  Thinking about a situation that came up during my life, that essentially showed the kind of people our nation's "Greatest Generation" were.  I'd like to share this with you.

When I was 16 years old I went away on a mission trip to Tamalipas, Mexico.  At that time, it was a tiny village with no running water; the "richest" person had the old fashioned washer that you cranked the clothes through.  We were told we would be building a church/community center/shelter/all purpose building with a concrete slab foundation, and running water.  The villagers were so happy to see us, they desperately needed this gift and were more than happy to sing our songs and play soccer with us; to get it.

The town had a real issue going on, a dirty little secret.  Men would drink, and in their drunken state; break into their neighbors homes and rape their teenage daughters.  Sometimes, the poor girls got pregnant.  Being predominately Catholic, there were never going to be any abortions; so the girls had the babies "secretly" and as soon as possible; turned the kids out of the home.  The mothers would then deny their existence.  So when we got there, we found ourselves compelled to deal with the eight children that were currently living in this situation.  No food, only scraps from various trash cans; clothes only when Missionaries showed up and no roof over their heads, ever.

One of these sweet children was named Aurora.  I fell in love with her instantly.  She was so starved for love, and I think she knew that I was too.  We clicked and within days, she was calling me Mama.  I called home to talk to my grandma. 

This is where I'll take a break and preface the rest of the story with this: my grandparents were no saints, I did not have a very happy childhood; but they believed in taking care of people - even if their own background made them a little mentally fucked up.

When I explained the situation to Nana, her only response was; "What can I do to help?"  So I handed the phone to our lead contact on the Mexico side and he walked her through what she needed to do, who she needed to talk to, and who she needed to bribe; for me to be able to bring Aurora home and have her legally be ours.

She didn't hesitate, she didn't say "I'll have to think about it." There was no asking, "What will this cost us?" or "What's in it for me?"  She just knew that I was telling her that this little girl needed a home, and she was willing to find a way to make it happen; because you take care of those less fortunate.  Always.  No matter what.

We were not well-to-do, we struggled and my grandma worked hard to provide for me.  I shopped at thrift stores and never knew what it was like to own a new pair of shoes until a youth pastor bought me my first pair when I was 13 years old; but she was willing to take in another mouth to feed because that mouth needed a home and that is what you do.

We ended up not getting Aurora, it broke my heart when the border crossing guards wanted more money and we didn't have it to give.  They ripped that beautiful little girl from my arms, she and I were both screaming, and she disappeared shortly after.  I don't know what happened to her, it breaks my heart to this day; but we tried. 

I guess my Freak Out is this...when did American's stop trying to help one another?  When did it become "okay" to just look out for numero uno?  Why is it that helping our fellows is looked down upon?  When did "liberal" become a dirty word?

Okay, I'm done with my rant.

WIP Wednesday - Degenerates Deserve Death - ADULT CONTENT

Greetings to everyone!

I've a had a pretty eventful last few days and missed my Sunday Confession, sorry for that.  Archer Girl went of to 5th grade camp (*sigh) and I had my second root canal in eight days; plus a TON of running around to get my brother to all the places the county mental health facility is making him go to in order to (possibly) get some damn help.  So, without further ado; and no more bitching today - I give you my next excerpt from my WIP "Degenerates Deserve Death".  As always, there is adult content and I LOVE to read feedback!

Thanks.

“Do you think anyone else saw her?”

“I think the little girl peeking outta the back of that guys big rig saw her, and I don’t think she was suppose to be peeking either” she stares into my eyes, like I wouldn’t understand what she’s saying.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?  Which one?” I whisper.

“No, and you are the only person I know that can take care of this fucker.  It’s the third time he’s been through here in six months, all three times he’s coming from the Salton Sea; and every time – see a different girl.  He’s the younger, cleaner one.  I’d have called you, but you’ve never given me your goddamn phone number!”

I rock back in shock at the venom in her voice.  Is she pissed at me?  When did I become the savior of the world?

“What makes you think I can fix this?” I look at her incredulously.

“You fixed Arnold didn’t you?  I’m here and I’ll help with whatever I have to, he usually sleeps through the day after he’s filled up on my good food and takes off just after dusk.  I think he likes to only travel at night.”

“Yeah, less cops on the road; most of these guys are on that schedule” I say, my mind is already trying to plot out how this will go down.  “Do you still have that nice mobile home up this road?”

“Yes, here are the keys.  How old is that girl you got?” she doesn’t even blink, she must trust me to be on the side of right.

“She’s nine.”

“She needs clothes?”

“Yes”

“I’ve got some old stuff of my Charlene’s up there in a box labeled ‘memories’; you can help yourself to it.  They’re old, but they’ll work” she looks like she’s about to cry all of a sudden.

“Who’s Charlene?” I’ve known this woman eight years and never heard about a kid.

“She’s my daughter.  I haven’t seen her since 1988” her voice cracks.

“Ok, that’s a story for another time.  I gotta go.  When your lunch relief comes in, make your way up to the mobile home – until then, keep an eye on our ‘friend’ and try to get the license plate and his name” I hand her my card, “and here are my numbers, the cell is on and” I look down at my phone “I’ve got coverage here, so call if it looks like he’s leaving”

“Will do.  Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah”

“You do this a lot, don’t you?”

I smile.  “Ma, this is not what I do; because I don’t usually deal with kids, I get the fuckers alone.  I think you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” She smiles back at me.

“Go back inside.  Please act normal.”

“I can act normal, I did it for years” she replies with a bitterness I haven’t heard before.

I open the door and get in.  “Count to 100 and then you can get up”

“One, two, three…”

My mind is racing.  Fuckers are buying and taking the girls on the road with them now?  This is a new development I was unaware of, when did this shit start happening and why didn’t Jake alert me?  I’ve got to get a message to him, we need a meeting immediately.

“One hundred” she at least has the good sense to uncover her head slowly, she’s duly acting repentant so I offer her a small smile.

“You do understand the severity of our situation, right?”

“Yes, I guess, but really – we haven’t done anything wrong; right?” she winks at me!

“Shit! girl you are funny!” I laugh out loud.

“Well, can I help it if George was a nasty, evil drunk who abused me for years and then died in a drunken accident; just as you were walking around to take some sunrise shots of the sea?”  I stare at her.  God, she almost convinced me that is how it happened.

“That’s your story, and your stickin’ to it, is that right?”

“Absolutely, that is what happened.  You are a good Samaritan that freaked out when I lost my mind and all you could think about was taking care of me – maternal instincts and all that.”  Wow!  She’s really good.

“You think anyone would believe that I’ve got maternal instincts?” I laugh out loud. 

“You are better than me, older and wiser – I bet you can convince anyone of anything; can’t you?” she sure is confident of my abilities, I’d hate to burst her bubble.  Truth is, I’m one of the best liars around – my whole life is a lie, so it comes naturally.  I must be slipping because I hadn’t even thought of a cover story, it hadn’t occurred to me to prepare one – how stupid is that?  This nine year old is up one on me in the common sense department.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“Well, here’s the thing.  We’ve had a change in plans.  Seems there is a guy back there that has a girl in his truck and if it was his daughter, he’d have brought her inside for food; ya know?”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying.  What are you gonna do?”

“I haven’t quite got is all figured out yet.  There is a safe place at the end of this road, where you can get showered and get dressed while I try to figure this shit out.”

“Okay.” she whispers.

“What’s wrong now?” I ask.

“It would be cool if it was my sister” 

Freak Out Fridays - Girl Scout Cookie Season is Here!

Well, as many of you know, I am a Girl Scout Leader.  I take my job very seriously.  In addition to planning educational meetings and fun activities, as well as community service projects; I am ultimately responsible for encouraging my eight girls to set goals and become "entrepreneurs" during cookie season.  Archer Girl (my daughter) is the most driven out of all the girls and last year was our troops number one seller; so of course, this year she has decided she must top herself.  Ho Hum.  What that means is that I will have to put in a lot of hours with her; because at only ten years old, she cannot achieve her dream without a little help.

I know that a lot of people think that Girl Scout cookies are an organization's way of profiting off of "child labor", at least that is what I've been told before.  However, my girls LOVE selling cookies!  They LOVE earning profits that they use to do good things within their community, and I am especially proud of them for this.  This year, Archer Girl and her sister Girl Scouts are using their cookie profits to purchase bus passes for homeless students here in the Long Beach area.  This is vital aid that these children in crisis often need, but there is currently underfunding in this area.  We hope to close the gap and help the Bethune Transitional Center for Homeless Students provide these children with a means to stay at their "home school" after their families have had to relocate to shelters or other relatives homes.

There is a fantastic video on YouTube that really shows "What Can A Cookie Do?", but for some reason the embedding has been disabled.  If you have a moment, I'd encourage you to check it out here and another great example of what this program does is here. 

So, what is the Freak Out?  I haven't finished my novel, which I swore to myself I would do before cookie season.  I know that starting today through March 25th (when the cookie sale is over) I will be eating, drinking, breathing, sleeping...generally being consumed...by GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!  Archer Girl has a goal set of 1500 boxes of cookies (last year's goal was 1000 and she actually sold over 1400), and that is a lot of work.  I laugh because if I didn't I would cry! ;)

Wish me luck, dear readers and friends; and if you happen to have a hankering for Thin Mints, Samoas, Tagalongs, or any of the other deliciously addicting cookies we sell - well, you know where to find me! ;)

WIP Wednesday - Degenerates Deserve Death - ADULT CONTENT

SO sorry to be posting a bit late today, I spent the morning at the County Mental Health Facility.  Such fun.

Well, here is my next excerpt from my WIP, "Degenerates Deserve Death"; as always, ADULT CONTENT so please be aware!  This is a flashback my MC has and it shows a bit of how she survived in her formative years.  This is my first sex scene.

Keith, what a fucker.  Yeah, he was smooth and hot as hell; but he fucked me royally. 

“Where you headin’ hot stuff?” he pulls up next to me on that badass old Honda cycle.

“Wherever you are” I reply, way too cocky for my own good.

“Shit, you’re trouble; aren’t cha?” He smirks at me and I swear my pussy just got wet; no man should look that good.  I jump on the back and hold on tight. He smells really good.  What is it about Drakkar Noir? I love it, and it makes my heart throb.  I can feel the six pack under his shirt, I can’t wait until I can get this man’s clothes off. 

When I left home this last time, my mom told me my whoring would get me pregnant and full of diseases – fuck her.  I’m done with worrying about what she thinks about me, she wasn’t ever there for me when I needed her and I’m 14  – I sure as hell don’t need her now.  When I think back to all those summers she let Pops take me to the Salton Sea, she never cared about what was happening to me then.  Fuck, if I hadn’t been gang raped at five; maybe I’d have a different moral code.  As it is, I like sex and I use it as a commodity to control men and get what I want.  What’s wrong with that?  Nothing.  Not a goddamn thing.  It’s not like I’m a idiot, I’m on the pill and I always make them use condomns…I’m not about to get stuck with some shit I can’t take care of – whether it be a baby or a disease.

“You asleep back there?”

“Of course not, I don’t think women often get a lot of sleep around you; do they?”

He chuckles. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Lorraine”

“Lovely Lorraine. Nice. I like it.”

“Thanks” I wonder if he can hear my smile?

“Were you serious about going anywhere?” he’s asking a loaded question, I’m sure.

“Yeah, I’m always up for an adventure” I purr into his ear.  Guys like it when I purr, it’s so funny.

“I’ve got to pick some shit up from a buddy of mine. He’s out in the desert, by the Salton Sea – ever heard of it?”

I gulp.  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No. Is there a problem?”

“No…no problem. Yeah, whatever.  I’m in” I wonder if he’ll pick up on the hesitation in my voice.

“Alright then” He lets loose the throttle and we increase speed until it takes my breath away.

Am I on candid camera? I hitch a ride in Fullerton and pick the one dreamboat that’s headed to the fucking Salton Sea?  Shit, I cannot believe my luck.  It’s like I’m permanently tied to that god forsaken place.  It’s cool, Lorraine.  Just take a deep breath.  He’s probably headed for Bombay Beach, no one knows about North Shore except the degenerates that hide there.

“I use to vacation at the Salton Sea with my Pops when I was a kid.  Do you know what part you’re going to? It’s a big body of water.”

“Yeah, it’s off Route 86? My buddy told me it’s on the south side”

“Oh, yeah…I’m not really familiar with the south side”  Breathe.  I can breathe.  I didn’t realize I wasn’t breathing until he said that – shit, I swore I wouldn’t let the shit that happened there effect me.  Yeah, right.  Like it doesn’t affect me.  Every time I’m with a man, everything I learned from George comes into play.  I only know all the tricks I’ve got up my sleeve because of that bastard.

“Can we stop soon?”

“Why? You change your mind about our adventure?”

“No, I’ve got to pee and I thought I’d blow you” that shut him up, and I can feel his cock growing.  Looky Looky, who likes a simple blow job; it’s so funny.  Men are so predictable, why don’t women give head more?  You can own a man if you suck his dick - swallow and they’ll commit murder for you.

“Will this work?”

“Motel 6? I don’t think they let you just use the bathroom here”

“I thought maybe we could take an hour break, eat something other than each other” he winks.

“Oh you are clever, aren’t you?”  I grab his cock as he turns to walk away and his breath catches.

“Hold on. I’ll be right back”

I gotta get off this bike and do the dance or else that guy eyeing me at registration is going to pull the plug on my adventure.  I swing my leg off, and turn my back to him; then ever so innocently – I just bend over at the waist to stretch.  Looking back at him and waving seals the deal.  If he suspects I’m underage, he won’t admit now; most normal guys don’t want to admit that they get hard looking at a fourteen year old.  Whatever, I look eighteen.  With a 36D and 26” waist at my disposal, there isn’t much I can’t get away with when it comes to the opposite sex.  Shit, sometimes I can get a butch dyke or two blithering at me to do my bidding.

“So what number?” I ask.

“204, it’s on the back side, at the end…lots of privacy”

“Purrrfect” I suck his earlobe in and bite down.

“Let’s go”

I’ve got to wipe the smirk off my face; he’s taking the steps two at a time!  He is so cute, I think he might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever been with and I know this is going to be tons of fun.

“Here, think fast” he tosses me the keys “I forgot my bag”

“Hurry, I’ll be waiting…”

I get the door open and close the blinds just as he’s coming in; “That was fast”

“I promise to slow down now”

“Mmmm”

He’s got great arms, I love the feel of them around my waist. “Kiss my neck”

“Oh is that how you play?  What if I don’t like to take orders?”

“It was just a suggestion.  I’ll be the best you’ve ever had if you let me do what I do best” I say it with promise, but I’m staring him down – this is the turning point, I don’t do submissive.

“Ok, Lovely Lorraine; I trust you”

He kisses my neck and bites a little, that’s good; “Mmmm, I like that”

“What are you gonna do for me?”

“Take off your clothes. I want to see you naked” if he does it, we are good.

The pants come off first, commando, huh? Nice.  Very nice. He’s rock hard and it is cut…thank god, I hate dirty dick.  The shirt reveals what I was feeling, six pack abs are so beautiful.  “You look good”

He laughs.  “When you gonna let me see what your barely-there outfit is teasing about?”

“Lay down on the bed”

I start to hum to myself Tori Amos’s Little Earthquakes and begin gyrating to my own rhythm.  Slowly, ever so slowly, I peel my skin tight tank top up over my head.  I didn’t bother with a bra today, so my boobs just bounce out – guys like it when they bounce – and his eyes turn to saucers.  Yeah, my tits are the shit…I lucked out with the genes for curves.  Next comes my boots, I love taking my boots off in front of a man.  I had to stay with this asshole for three months to get him to buy these boots for me; but it was worth it.  I slowly unzip my left thigh-high with my foot resting on the table by the door – it gives him a great Mrs. Robinson view.  I move on to the right and step out, then turn my back to him.  I undo my shorts and slowly bend over as I pull them down, giving him a great view of my ass in this hot pink G-string.

“Come here before I die, my dick is so hard it hurts”

“Gladly” I crawl up the bed over his body and take his entire nine inches down my throat, that’s a neat trick I’ve worked very hard to accomplish. I’m rewarded with that sharp intake of breath I love to hear.  I can suck on this a bit before I put the cover on…yummy.

“I gotta get something outta my bag”

“Wha?” He clears his throat. “What?”

“A condom, I play it safe sweetie.”

“Oh, Oh, yeah, ok”

I put the condom in my mouth and stretch it over his fantastic dick with my mouth.

“Holy Shit!  Where did you learn how to do that?” he’s breathing really hard now.

I chuckle, “I’ve got more tricks up my sleeve, I’m gonna blow your mind”

“As long as you don’t stop blowing my cock, god that feels fucking amazing”

I suck his balls into my mouth and flick my tongue over them, while I start rubbing the head – his toes are curling now. 

“Do you like that?” I look up with a raised eyebrow.

“Fuck Lorraine, I want you to take it all in your mouth; NOW”

“tsk tsk, say please”

“Pl-Plea-Please?”

“Nice, I like nice men”

I start sucking with a good rhythm and gusto, he’s mine now.  I can already feel his balls tightening, hmmm – he must not get blow jobs very often.

“Lorraine, stop”

“What?”

“I said stop, I want to fuck you” he looks all dreamy, and his voice is strained.

“Sorry, we just met.  You gotta earn a fuck, blowjobs are free cuz they’re fun”

“Are you shittin’ me?”

“Nope. You in or out? Am I gonna finish?”

“Uh, yeah, absolutely you’re gonna finish” he is so confused, it’s kinda cute.

So I do just that, it only takes another two minutes at the most; he’s gotta work on his stamina.  I mean, shit, with a condom and everything?  He can’t be hard up looking like he does.

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“Keith” he says between his guffaws.

Sunday Confession: I'm a Card Carrying Liberal, Bleeding Heart, Lesbo and Fag Loving Left-Wing Socialist!

Have you ever had someone call you something, usually they are trying to "insult" you; but when they say it...well, you can't help but feel a bit of pride?  The above statement was used on me a few days ago, and I'm proud to say - it's all true, I guess; at least from the person's perspective that said it.  I'm totally "Okay" with being perceived as "a card carrying liberal, bleeding heart, lesbo and fag loving; left-wing Socialist" because if that is what THIS person thinks of me; then it means they see me as the opposite of them - and that makes me rejoice!

I wonder, is this a phenomenon that only occurs in California?  Or have you found yourself being "insulted" by someone and then thinking, "Actually, that sounds good; yeah, I'm fine with that!"?  I'm curious to see.

WIP Wednesdays-Degenerates Deserve Death: Adult Content

Here we are, at my first official WIP Wednesday and I'm posting an excerpt of my NaNo Novel; which is still under construction.  This is from the first draft, no revisions have been made; but you'll get the gist.  Enjoy! WARNING: ADULT CONTENT

“My name is Lorraine” I grind out.

“Lorraine.  What is that triple D tattoo on your arm?  Does it mean something?” She asks all innocence.

“Yeah, it stands for something.  It’s kinda my life’s motto.  Degenerates Deserve Death, triple D”

“Uh, what is ‘degenerates’?  Is that what George was?” yeah, she’s not a retard; this girl obviously has a whip smart mind.

“Yes, that is exactly what George was and that is why he got what he deserved” my voice sounds tense.  Why am I tense?  I’ve been doing this for four years, I don’t get tense and I don’t feel regret – every one of those assholes that meet me, deserves what I give them.  George deserved more than he got, he deserved prolonged pain more than anyone else; and I didn’t have the time to give it to him.  Fuck, that must be it; my only regret is that I didn’t make him suffer more.

“I’m hungry” she says as her stomach growls loud enough for me to hear over the radio.

“Ok, I’ll stop at the next truck stop; but you’ll have to stay out of sight – you’ll draw attention if anyone sees you” I warn.

“Whatever you say, I’m just really hungry.  We’d been out of food for two days, George used his pension on tequila again” she admits.

“Do you like pancakes?  This place has fantastic pancakes, they put apples and cinnamon in the batter.”

“That sounds good” her tone is so nonchalant, I wonder how long she’s had that mastered.  It’s a defense mechanism, never let anyone see you excited about anything, so they won’t know how to disappoint you.  I remember that, it must be a universal trait in seriously fucked up kids.

“Can I have some eggs and bacon too?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely!”

She smiles at me.  I probably shouldn’t curse in front of her, most adults would say that is bad; but with what she’s been through and seen – what the fuck does cursing matter?  I pull off the highway and head for Ma’s Truck Stop, I’ve known Ma for years – she’s a good one, with a good heart.  She’s never asked questions, but she’s smart and I think she knows more than she lets on.  I don’t worry about her though, not after I broke it up when her husband was beating the shit out of her two years ago.  A quick, couple jabs; one to the nasion, one to the philtrum, and she helped me bury him out in the desert.  I think that gives us an understanding.  Shit, she’s never charged me a dime for anything since – its definitely a win-win!

“Stay down on the floor, don’t get up for anything till I tell you to; you break this rule and you could fuck this up for both of us” I’m hoping she understands the severity of our situation, she seems really bright; but kids are kids and they don’t listen all the time.

She crouches down and I cover her with the blanket from my back seat.  I crack all the windows so she has air, it won’t get too hot for another hour.  Ma always says how it isn’t “hot as hell” till about ten in the morning.  I hear a muffled “I’m good, I’ll stay put” and I get out and hit the alarm.

“Well howdy stranger!” Ma clears the counter and wraps her big arms around my waist, at five foot nothing she can’t reach any higher on my six foot frame.

“Hi Ma!  You got any of that special pancake batter ready?” I wink as I ask.

“For you, anything…you want the works?” she winks back at me.

“Abso-fucking-lutely, Ma.  Load me up!”

I sit down at the counter and she pours me a cup of her fantastic burned, thick coffee – just the way I like it.

“You just sit right there, give me ten minutes” and she’s off to the cook shack.  She never lets anyone cook my food but her.  She’s got a new cook it looks like, and he is confused as hell as to why he is being shushed out to the front to cover the counter.  I duck my head down to cover my smile, at least there are only a couple of long-haulers in here – I missed the breakfast rush.

“Hey, you want your eggs over-easy like usual?” Ma hollars out the service window at me.

“No. Let’s change it up today, just do ‘em scrambled”

She raises an eyebrow at me, but shrugs and heads back to the cook top.  Shit, I don’t need to raise any red flags; but I need that girl to eat and there are few kids that eat over-easy eggs.  Fuck it, it’ll be fine.

I use my peripheral to check out my counter buddies, one looks like he’s been on the road for a week; no shower.  Glad he’s all the way down at the end, but the one closer to me seems familiar.  Why would I know him?  Have I seen him in here before?  As I’m trying to figure this out, he looks up at me and winks.  Gross, he thinks I’m checking him out.  Cocky fucker; I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.  I haven’t been with a man since Keith, and I haven’t missed it yet.  He isn’t bad though, looks like your normal Joe-blow trucker; but with a solid frame of muscle instead of a think layering of fat.  I kinda like his dark hair and blue eyes, that’s a good combination on a man.  Ma backs out of the swinging door with her arms loaded with plates, oh shit!

“Ma, I’m sorry; I can’t stay.  Can you box it up?”

“What?  You ain’t staying for a visit?”  She looks hurt.  I guess it has been awhile since I’ve been through here.

“ I can’t.  I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to get back on the road”

“I’ll box it up right now.  But I need to talk to you, move your car around back and I’ll meet you out at my smoke spot” she looks really serious, what the hell is up with her?

“Ok” and I head outside.

As I chirp off the alarm and unlock the doors, I see a head barely peeking out, “Fucking shit!”

I open the door and get in.  I count to three before I speak so that I don’t start screaming at her.

“Stay down, do not get up.  Isn’t that what I said to you?  No, don’t get up now!  It’s light out and anyone inside can see you.  I’m pulling around back and you are going to get back under that fucking blanket and stay there until I tell you otherwise.  If you cannot do that, I’ll drive you out to the desert and drop you off – alone, then you can figure your shit out on your own.  I’m trying to help you, but I will not allow you to jeopardize my situation by being stupid.  Do you understand me?” my nostrils are flaring, fuck she’s got me pissed, but I managed to keep my voice calm.

I hear a very meek “Yes, I understand” and I pull into the shade of the overhang that Ma installed so she could be a bit more comfortable when she takes a break to smoke.  She’s added misters, huh, that’s new.  I bet they feel good when the sun is cooking all the crazy people out here in the desert.

Ma opens the back door and I jump out of the car to meet her.  She hands me the food and says “I saw what you got in your car, girl couldn’t keep her head down to save her life, huh?”

Fuck, I knew it.

I'm Hearing Voices! (and doesn't everyone?) The Character Blogfest & My Sunday Confession

I picked this up from Michael Offutt and instantly fell in love with the idea.  I don't know if I'll love the actual writing of it, but the challenge is what I crave! ;)  Besides, with my life being what it is right now; the double entendre is just too damn mouth watering to ignore!  (More on what I mean by that after the details of the blogfest, just keep reading!)

 

So here is what Cassie Mae at Reading, Writing, and Lovin' It has to say about her cosponsored Blogfest:

Every great story has great characters! So this blogfest is designed to help us flex our character writing muscles through three separate blog posts.

  As I mentioned, this Blogfest is being cosponsored, and so Cassie Mae is working with Angela Cothran at Live to Write...Edit When Necessary  Please go and visit either of these ladies' sites via the links I've provided to read all the juicy details and join!

Now for my confession... 

I've mentioned before that I REALLY hate mental illness, you can read about it here and here. Somehow my life seems to be consumed by it at the moment.  In my last post regarding my brother, I discussed his willingness to admit he needs medical help.  He has been staying at our home since then!  That brings the cacophonous ridiculousness of my condo to seven residents; Hubby, Archer Girl (my daughter), Archer Boy (my eldest son), Lil' Demon (my baby), Mother (literally, my mom), Diva of Darkness (me) and now add Crazy (my brother).  All of us in a 1600 square foot, 3 bedroom and 2 bathroom condominium.  All I can say is Holy Shit and Hairy Balls! 

I am a mother of three with one demon-possessed 18 month old still at home (I can't afford to send him to daycare, or I TOTALLY would!) and now I am having to drive my brother to AA meetings and counseling sessions and food stamp offices and welfare departments and this and that...it really is never ending. 

  So when I sit in with him at an appointment and he begins to explain how he isn't schizophrenic because the voices in his head only tell him "GOOD" things - well, it is very hard to nonchalantly pick my jaw up from off the floor, dust it off and then reattach it.  Wha-Wha- WHAT???  YES.  He has voices that tell him things.  Things to do, things to say, how to act, how to react; but EVERYTHING they tell him is for his benefit.  So he's not crazy, right?  In fact, he believes that these are spiritual beings of some kind and they are encouraging him to stay true to his "path of spiritual warfare" and to "keep his armor on at all times" because he needs "to bring the wrath of GOD down on everyone that doesn't believe in him".  Really.  I'm not kidding.  By the way, the therapist couldn't really get him to solidify his meaning when he said "believe in him", like HIM as in GOD or him as in himself?!?!  I think he started to realize that saying you are Christ might get you labeled "CRAZY", so he just ignored the question.

He's working the 12 steps, he's going to counseling, he's got an appointment with the county mental health office to see a psychiatrist at the end of this month...but I still question whether he REALLY understands that what goes on in his mind is not normal.  I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop, because it always has in the past.

So all of that leads up to my confession - I don't trust my brother to not be playing me for the fool...again.