An Agnostic Episode

Almost daily you will hear people around you pray for some sort of healing. "My dad is sick...my baby is sick...etc." I don't understand how a god that can heal you allowed you to get sick in the first place.
Recently, my mother and I conversed about this topic and she brought up the idea of freewill.  I explained to her that it is beyond my scope of understanding how god, a "father", would allow his child to be ill in the first place when he has the power to cure the sickness. I went a step further and said that the children that are in homes sustaining abuse do not have the freewill to stop the horrors that take place within their walls.  To them it is normal, it is life.
I'm sure someone will think me horrible for saying these things, but hey, that has never stopped me before...
I believe that god is a dead beat dad (if he exists at all).  He's not around.  We are basically left to our own devices.  I cannot kneel before a deity and beg him to do what is right and just.
Another thing you hear frequently is "god has a plan." Nobody knows that plan...it is a top secret plan but it involves children being born into poverty, abuse, and neglect.  One thing that incites people is learning that someone is fucking with a kid yet it happens over in over again and god seems to just turns the other way. God allows these things to happen all day, everyday and no one bats an eye.  This is not a god whom I want to have a relationship.  If he were a human standing before us, we'd all want him locked up but because he is a "deity" his behavior is justified and overlooked. Stop making excuses for him!

I know many will take offense to these statements but please understand. I have no desire to pass judgement on anyone. If your faith makes you feel complete by all means carry on. I am simply stating the things that I have trouble comprehending when it comes to deities. Unfortunately, my upbringing is influenced the most by Christianity. I have only read about other religions to try to understand my own personal path in life. I have yet to find one that feels right for me.
I would like to think that if judgement day ever happens, god would sit down with me, have a beer (or glass of wine), and explain to me all the things my constant questioning of existence failed to allow me to find.
To my friends and loved ones: when my days start to slip from reach, do not pray for me. Sit beside me, hold my hand, stroke my face. Tell me about a memory we shared. Maybe that will be the memory that brings a smile across my lips as I fade away into the nothing.

Bet You Weren't Expecting Me...

Miss me?  Damn right, you did!

In my hiatus, I have:

• ·         survived my husband’s deployment (I use the term “survived” EXTREMELY liberal, of course.)
• ·         gotten a full time job at a home improvement establishment (currently, I am slinging appliances.)
• ·         stepped down as leader of my daughter’s Girl Scout troop (my baby girl is growing up, *sniffle*.)
• ·         and also, managed to forgive a few people who didn’t deserve my forgiveness (however, I deserved the freedom from the hate stewing inside of me.)

Picture found here

Now that I got you all caught up, we can proceed to my regularly scheduled shenanigans…

Oh, how I miss the days I was a lady of leisure.  Recently, I was sick with strep throat and remembered (between my fevered bouts of delirium) how much I missed being home.  Today was my first day back to work in nearly a week.  While I enjoy the people I work with and the work that I do, I sometimes want to tell the general public to suck an egg.

Anyone out there that has ever worked with the public, especially in retail, knows EXACTLY what I mean.  Some people can be so awful.  You are probably thinking I am referring to those folks that yell and scream.  While I consider those people to be rather difficult, the breed of customer I loathe the most would have to be the ones who have no regard for a retail worker as a human being…mainly the ones that talk over you.  I HATE that!

Last week, this middle age couple came in.  I hereby dub them Mr. & Mrs. Magoo.  I greeted them like I would any customer and asked if I could help them.  They said they had some questions about a particular dishwasher.  

Picture found here

Mr. Magoo asked questions about every single possible detail of the appliance.  “Ummm, yeah…are the screws that bolt the handle galvanized stainless steel?  Who invented the first dishwasher?  What is your mother’s maiden name???”  Of course, I knew the answers (and even if I didn’t I can sure as hell make it sound like I do, *wink wink*).  So I proceed to answer and as I get a few words into my response to Mr. Magoo’s extensive shake-down, the ever so lovely Mrs.Magoo interrupts me to ask me her own questions WHICH SHE ALSO ANSWERS!!!  Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Magoo, would you like me to go away so you can sell your own appliance to yourself.  Shit people!  Why didn’t you just order it online??

Picture found here

It’s no secret that I attract crazy people.  I don’t know if I make them feel at ease or maybe they are just attracted to their own kind.  I can deal with crazy.  I find it entertaining but, rude is beyond my scope of tolerance. 

Today, I had the pleasure of dealing with this woman who needed help with a washer.  For the life of me, I cannot understand why someone would ask you a question and then try to convince you that you are wrong.  Standing in front of two washers, she asks me which one has a larger capacity.  I show her which one is bigger (seriously, by .1 cubic foot) and she proceeds to disagree with me.  She says, “Look in here.  This one is bigger.”  I try to contain my annoyance and try to explain to her that it is not even a cubic foot difference.  She continues to insist that I look inside the tub.  At this point, I felt that I needed to humor her in order to move along in the sale so I agree that it looks larger by telling her that that the tub is wider but more shallow.  It seemed logical.

Dealing with her was the least of the problem.  Shortly after, her friend walked up. 

Guys, her friend knew everything about everything!  In hindsight, I should have asked for the secret to universe.  I’m serious!  Anything that the customer would ask me, the friend would chime in with her own two cents.  Once again, I hate to be interrupted but, more so, I hate to be interrupted with inaccurate information.  I just don’t have the patience to deal with the Kanyes of the world today or anyday for that matter.

Picture found here

This rambling is done for now.  When you are out and about consuming and contributing to the economy, please remember that the guy mixing your paint, the girl behind the cash register, the lady taking your order, and the man working the customer service desk are fucking human beings.  Treat them as such.  If you can’t go into an establishment and show basic common courtesy, do us a favor and stay home and order your shit online.

Picture found here

Fantastic Friday Five #12

In celebration of a gloriously beautiful Friday, I decided it was time for another Fantastic Friday Five.  So here I am for some wonderful sharing...

1.)  I have learned even in the country, I am not safe from people knocking on my door soliciting their religion.  I've considered putting a sign in the yard that says "Not interested in converting."   I also thought of just blatantly posting a sign stating that an agnostic/atheist lives here but I figured if some local farmer's cow gets found slaughtered in the pasture they'll be knocking on our door first.  Stupid bible belt!

2.)  We have decided on a vacation destination for when my husband returns for this round of leave.  We narrowed it down to Yellowstone, Yosemite, and Grand Canyon and then we let the kids make the final choice.  We are going to visit the Grand Canyon.  I have already made all of the necessary reservations including a smooth water float trip down the Colorado River.
Since my husband and I are planning this all in different time zones, I have devised a power point complete with a time line to keep him up to date.  I'm sure many people think that is anal as all hell but I just like thinks to flow.  When they don't, I get anxious and then I feel like I'm all irritated and ruining everyone's fun.  So you see?  This is all for the best.  You don't want to see me on CNN as the lady who tossed her children AND husband over the side of the canyon, do you?  DO YOU???
My husband, being ex-military and still working with the government, loves that I plan everything out.  He's accustomed to frequent power points.  We always do this for big events and/or adventures...and by "we" I mean "me".  His contribution to this...he wants me to locate "Holiday Road" on i-tunes so we can listen to that along the trip because every family vacation should be jammed to in style just like the Griswold's.  Maybe I should also try to rent the Wagon Queen Family Truckster for that authentic Griswold feel.

I guess we can hope that my husband doesn't end up running around deliriously with pants on his head.

3.)  This school year I have been co-leading my daughter's Girl Scout troop.  I LOVE working with the girls more than I thought I would.  Dealing with the parents?  Not so much.  It seems like no matter how many different ways you put out the information (a paper copy in their hand, a text message, an email, posted to the troop's Facebook page) someone is going to say "Nobody told me about that...I didn't know."  I swear it is enough to beat my head against a wall.
We recently finished cookie sales.  THANK GOODNESS!  Our troop sold 6500 boxes.  My daughter's share of that was 765 boxes and, man, did she hustle. 

4.)  This season of The Walking Dead is over.  That makes me sad.  Season 3 needs to hurry up for two reasons A.) The hooded woman at the end of the season 2 finale is the most bad ass character thus far in the graphic novels.  B.)  The show's creators, clever little bastards that they are, also allowed us a glimpse of the prison in the horizon which can only mean that the introduction of a villain no one will ever forget shouldn't be too far behind.  I already have Volume 16 of the graphic novels preordered.  It is set to release mid June.  That should hold me for about an hour...

5.)  Lately, I've been wondering if I am going to have to use the safe room for it's intended purpose.  We've had some nasty weather the past few days.  Fingers crossed we don't blow away.

Bonus:  For those that have been reading for awhile you know my history with owls.  The mascot for the school my children started this school year is, in fact, an owl.  How ironic is that?
 Enjoy your weekend!  I know I will!

Somewhere In The Middle

Half of the time, I can’t remember the things I dream.  It seems like when I do remember them I’d wish I didn’t.  Yesterday was one of those days.  Maybe I watch too many horror movies or maybe I am just a disturbed person.  My dreams have been imbedded into my head.  What’s worse is they are happening in the state of sleep paralysis (half asleep/half awake) which can be outright terrifying.  

Yesterday, I was feeling exhausted around two in the afternoon.  I decided to lie down and take a nap before the kids came home from school.  I’m sure it was the snow that had crept into Oklahoma recently that made me feel so sleepy.  I curled up into the bed and nuzzled under the covers.  I dreamed I was taking a nap and woke up.  In my bedroom, there was an attic door on the ceiling that had been pulled down with the door extended.  In reality, there is only access to the attic up the stairs and it is a walk in attic.

In the dream, I was only slightly alarmed by the open attic.  I climbed out of bed and in my living room there was another attic on the ceiling with the ladder extended.  In the dining room, it was the same thing only the ladder had been broken into pieces on the floor.  The hallway closet was open.  It was the open closet that made my heart start to race.

I picked up my cellphone and dialed 911.  The operator was an idiot who I repeatedly gave my address to over and over again.  It was as if I was on a three-way call with the 911 operator and the police department.  I pleaded for them to send someone to my house and stated that someone is in here with me.

As I am pleading for them to help me, everything in my house turns on almost as if the electricity had been out.  The fans are spinning at their highest speeds.  The televisions and radios are all blaring loudly.  All of the lights came on at the same time.  At this point I look down the hallway and I noticed my son’s door begin to open and a shadow creeps out into the hallway.  I take off back towards my bedroom and into my closet where the safe room is located.  I make it into the room and slam the door behind me.  I manage to lock it as whoever it is stands on the other side trying to turn the knob.  I can see a shadow underneath the door.

Then I wake up, fully alert.  My heart is pounding in my chest.  I look at the clock and only about a half an hour has passed since I first laid in the bed.  Yeah, nap time was over.

Later that night after I sent the kids to bed, I climbed into my bed around 10:30pm.  I dreamed I woke up again and the bathroom door and closet doors were open.  Immediately, I felt startled.  I never sleep with doors open.  I heard whispering all around me and one by one I started to see these cloud-like, smoky images in front of me.  They appeared to have facial features and it looked as though they were whispering.  I tried to climb out of the bed but I was tangled in the covers.  I knew I was dreaming and was trying to get myself to wake up.  The whispers felt as if they were getting louder and louder.

I woke with a jolt and all at once there was silence.  I glanced over at the clock and thirty minutes had passed yet again.

Am I saying my house is haunted?  Not at all.  I do think something is weighing on my subconscious though.  Maybe I am being haunted by something like my own failure.  Who really knows though, right?  Maybe I just watch to many horror movies…

You Know It's Time To Blog When...

Do you know how long it has been since I posted here?  Try all summer long.  I know many of you are blaming my children and have probably plotted having them kidnapped.  Believe me it wasn't just having them home for the summer that made blogging difficult.  I have taking on a mission to keep myself busy during my husband's absence.  Here are a few things that I did and/or currently doing:

• I located a house I liked and got my husband's stamp of approval via email.  With my power of attorney in hand, I closed on the house.  So, now when I fill out surveys I get to check "own home" instead of "rent".  That's bad ass! 

• The kids are doing all sorts of activities in addition to scouts.  The boy is enrolled in both gymnastics and kung fu.  His dream of being a professional wrestler is at his fingertips.  My girl child is doing gymnastics and we are getting ready to sign her up for horseback riding as well.

• I have joined a gym.  It is time to get my fat ass moving.  My husband is out there getting his desert sexy on, making me look bad.  We can't have that now, can we?

This is just scratching the surface.  I have learned from previous deployments that too much downtime leads to depression.  I have decided instead to keep busy and just embrace my anxiety.

The house alone is keeping me busy.  Since we have moved out to the country, I can read my zombie books in peace knowing that the country folks usually live longer for the simple fact that there are less people to turn into zombies.  See?  Living 30 minutes from the nearest Wal-Mart is a good thing.  Now if we have an outbreak of zombie cows, I'm screwed.

Deviant Art

In the meantime, I'm trying to get into a groove of blogging again and I'm sure I will attain one soon.  After all, the children are back in school but I had to spend the first weeks running around the house naked waving my freedom flag.  It was glorious.

Don't worry though.  I will be back again soon.  I knew it was time to blog again when I started dreaming about it.  Of course, in my dream my ramblings were much more entertaining...and I was skinnier.

I Ain't Skeered!

Don't worry.  You're children are safe.

This agnostic mom goes on a lot of adventures and I manage to get myself into some awkward spots.  The latest adventure involves me agreeing to be a co-leader to my daughter’s Brownie Girl Scout troop.

…

Yeah, I’ll pause so you can soak that in and say a prayer, light a candle or do whatever it is that you people do when you want to save a child’s soul.

…

Over the weekend, I was able to go on an excursion to Oklahoma City for an overnight training session.  I knew ahead of time I would be staying at the Catholic Pastoral Center.  I joked with my friend, Julia that I’d probably be struck by lightning or something.

We were assigned to our room.  It was still daylight but the hallway was sparsely lit even with the glass exit door and sidelights at the end of the way.  The room had two twin size beds with white linens and your grandma’s quilt.  There was a small desk with a set of towels and a few bars of soap.  In one corner was am old sink with a mirror above it.  In the other corner was a closet with a hideous metal chest of drawers inside of it.  Between those two was a doorway that led to the bathroom that we shared with the other room.  The highlight of the room was the depressing crucifix on the wall.

I'm sure under that white paint is some pea soup stains.

Yes, I said it.  Crucifixes ARE freaking depressing.  Why on earth would anyone want to look at that gruesome image all day long?  I suppose that the symbol is to remind the flock of the sacrifice that Jesus made but c’mon.  Isn’t that picture of him looking all pretty just as good?  Doesn’t the faith remind you of what he did every Sunday?  Or at the very least the cross itself minus the dead guy seems like it would get the point across.

I get it.  Some people believe he died for them but the dead guy image is still just a tad disturbing.  If a mother died in childbirth, how appropriate would it be for her child to mount something on the wall of the dead mother all sweaty and bloody in a hospital bed.  Or should said child just wear a golden uterus? 

I’m convinced religion makes you weird.  Period.

To prepare myself for this adventure, I watched The Exorcist, Rite, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, and The Last Exorcism.  I told Julia it was just in case she got possessed and I needed to be able to exorcise her.   I believe in being prepared.

GAH!

Anyway, back to the retreat…

Before everything started, Julia and I made a sweep of the building taking mental notes of which hallways looked the creepiest.  It seemed that the wing we were in was the oldest.  It had a musty mildew smell that crept into your nose and then Chuck Norrised you in the throat.  As we trekked down hallways, we found a room full of books for the clergy such marriage, marriage counseling, being married to a homosexual, and many more interesting topics.  I looked for one on exorcism.  No luck.

There was a wine tasting.  We were limited to two taste tickets which resulted in me trying to hustle more from anyone who would listen.  Eventually I just bought a bottle of Pinot Noir from the wine vendor and proceeded to create my own evening itinerary in my head.

What?  I was thirsty.

The first day wasn’t too bad.  Dinner was catered.  It was decent, nothing fancy.  We attended a class that was roughly two hours long and we got Girl Scout “swag”.  I love free shit and the majority was actually useful.  We were able to have our room switched to one on the upper floor in a different wing where we had our own bathroom instead of having to share with the room next door. 

Ok.  Maybe I was zapped by some lightning in the ass.  I guess I've got so much cushion, I didn't even notice.

Later, we had a meeting with other ladies in our area in one of their rooms.  She managed to snag herself a suite complete with a sitting area.  Wine bottles were uncorked making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It was nice.  It made my surroundings more tolerable.  After the hen house party dissipated and we went to our rooms, Julia and I decided it was time to be…

Wait for it…

Ghost hunters.  Yes, bad ass mamma jamma ghost hunters!  So we roamed the hallways with our cameras snapping pictures of dark hallways,

This was snapped with no flash.  Many of the hallways looked like this.

old lady furniture,

This decor was scary all by itself.  All it's missing is a bowl of hard candy from 1952.

creepy staircases,

This was with the flash.  Apprently, they were conserving energy by turning off most of the lights.

and each other acting like total morons. 

I ain't skeered!

At least I'm not the only one not afraid to make an ass of myself for the sake of fun.

All the while I was humming the 007 theme music.  Our mission was to go down to the basement which ended up being completely disappointing because it looked just like the rest of the place only the mildew reeked more than the upper floors. 

See?  Rain.

Outside it was storming making the dark hallways all the more delightful many times reminding me of scenes from the movie Gothika. 

We were lucky enough to learn that a few days after us the Legion of Mary Ass would be using the facility.  We found the letter “M” for “mass” on the floor under the board.  I snapped a picture and Julia fixed it. 

There's a legion in there.  Poor lady.

It seems my interesting humor does not go unnoticed because the next day I found out that everyone in our group assumed it was me that made it that way in the first place.  I’m shocked.  Blame the heathen. 

After we returned to our room, we were overcome with a craving for a slushy…a yummy, delicious, icy slushy.  I looked out the window over the rooftops at the pouring torrential rain and turned to Julia and said, “It’s just misting.”  I must have been pretty convincing because within minutes we were creeping downstairs.  We discovered the lobby gates were pulled down in the same fashion as a store in the mall would to protect its wares.  We found the nearest exit.  We were smart enough to check the door to make sure they didn’t lock behind us.  The downstairs door leading outside would have locked so we decided against our slushy adventure.  Boo!

How sad...

Before bed, we checked under each other’s bed…you know, just to be sure.  The beds were so much tinier than I am used to.   I had to be mindful so I didn’t fall out of it when I moved around in my sleep.  At one point during the night, I was tempted to flip the cross over just to freak Julia out in the morning but I decided against it.  Some people just don’t get my humor.  When it comes to religion people tend to get a little uptight.

6:30 in the morning is just an ungodly time for any sane person to be awake.  At least they fed us.

Breakfast of Champions!  Word!

What makes it even worse is sitting in a three hour lecture listening to shit that is basically common sense.  The speaker actually insisted on leading us through guided imagery.  I nearly fell asleep.  I thought it was a horrible, HORRIBLE idea considering she was attempting to take some people back to when they were eight.  There were actually women crying around me.  All I could think was someone is diving into some dark ass memories.  I’m not playing that game.

Do what you have to do to pass the time.

Sometime during all this mind numbing boringness, my partner in crime Julia says she is “going to the bathroom” which was code for “I am going to the other conference room so I can find out what next year’s mystery cookie is”.  A few moments later, I get picture mail from another lady in the next conference room asking if I’m missing someone.

Three hours!  That’s how long the first class lasted.  It was torture.  It felt like the part in the movie Zoolander when Derek Zoolander is held captive at the “day spa” by Mugatu who subjects him to extensive audio visual torture...only I wasn’t lucky enough to actually watch something.  I got to listen to some woman drone on and on like Ben Stien’s character from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only person bored stupid.  When I went to the bathroom at one point, I saw a girl on her laptop playing World of Warcraft.  Later an older lady tripped over the laptop cord causing a big scene.  Too bad it was AFTER we sat in there for most of the morning.  It would have been a welcomed diversion halfway through when I was on the verge of chewing off my own arm just to entertain myself.

You know it's bad when you can't get up.

We attended a few more sessions, which by comparison were only 30 minutes to an hour so they went by stupid fast.  When four o’clock rolled around, I was itching to leave.  The drive home was interesting.  Someone and I won’t name names (Julia) kept falling asleep.  Good thing I was driving or we may not have made it home. 

Word!

Now I’m back in my part of Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plains just to ass rape my hair.  Let’s recap for my believer friends out there.  Everyone’s favorite agnostic mom stepped foot on holy ground and my feet didn’t sizzle.  I was not struck by lightning nor was an exorcism necessary.  Although there were a few times when I could have sworn some of the popes in the large portraits lining the hallways were totally checking me out.

In unrelated news, I should point out to my readers (and any potential readers out there) it’s summer.  Don’t expect too much from me.  My kids keep me busy and we got a lot of traveling in our future.  I’ll be around.  You've been warned.

I'm Around...You Just Can't See Me

As most of you know already, Blogger and I are not getting along. My commenting is thrown all off whack. It’s not letting me log in to leave comments…even on my OWN blogs. I have to take the time to manually type my name and URL in yet I remain faceless. Some of your blogs won’t even let me do that much!


It’s also very finicky about when it allows me to make posts. Thank goodness I use Microsoft Word to write my posts or they’d be lost forever in Blogger limbo. When I hit “publish”, sometimes it takes me back to the log in page. It’s a big ol’ mess.  I had a lovely post for my anniversary on May 25 but Blogger was being a butt and after trying numerous times to post it I gave up.

Damn you, Blogger Demon!!

Rest assured though, I am around the blogosphere but I am silenced. I’m like a ninja all up on your page. I’ve actually been spending a lot of time hanging around this new blog collaboration which is named, simply ::snicker::, Fabulous Atypical Ramblings of Nuclear Cheese. If you clicked that link, I’m sorry but you can’t get those minutes you wasted back. They’re gone! Forever!
To answer everyone’s most pressing question, yes your votes made me number one in May Concours d' Cuisine but apparently there is another round to the contest. You guys know how I am when it comes to rules and shit. K over at Big K, Little a has final say over who wins. I am in the final three. Now I have to wait on K to make all three dishes to see which one tickles her taste buds more. In the meantime, I’m going to join the June contest but I’m not going to fight to be number one again…just final three.