Trayvon Martin

I I don’t doubt that GZ was beaten up by Trayvon. If someone comes at me in the dark, with a gun & is hell bent on attacking me, I am going to do what I can to prevent that from happening. I would be scared out of my mind, as I am certain Trayvon was. If that means beat that person up, then so be it. Trayvon was standing HIS ground. GZ should have stayed in his car. If he thought Trayvon was roaming the neighborhood looking for trouble, then GZ should have left that for the police to deal with. Who does he think he is? Why did he feel the need to get out of his car, confront Trayvon with a gun, then shoot him in the heart? Who appointed him judge, jury and executioner??? GZ attacked him, then Trayvon fought back. THEN GZ said it was self defense. GZ created the situation that caused him to say self defense. I am glad Trayvon got a few good licks in before he was murdered. GZ’s deer in the headlights look doesn’t fool me. GZ and GZ alone is responsible for all of this. No one else. If he stayed in his car, Trayvon would have been allowed to just go home like he was trying to do. GZ is beyond guilty and the ultimate bully, and should go to jail. Trayvon is the one that came across a thug that night not GZ. At the end of the day, someone’s son was taken from them. Someone’s son is on trial for murder. If only GZ just stayed in his car . . . .

My Childless Adventure!

Let me preface this by saying I love my kids. HOWEVER ; ) I had a wonderful time on my lunch break walking through Menards looking at patio furniture without wondering: “Where did she go!” or hearing “Mommy can I have this?” No . . . you don’t need a power drill. “But mom whyyyy!!!!!!!!” Just me, myself, and my Icee. Good Times at Menards – Good Times : )

My 8 year old self would be so very disappointed that this type of adventure brings me so much joy/elation. The Icee topped it off though. If I slurped it right, it kind of tasted like a very loaded Pina Colada.  It was almost the equivalent of this Nebraska girl sitting on a beach. I don’t get to partake in these types of childless wanderings very often. I almost felt like it was illegal. It was like an etheral deam sequence from an 80′s movie. Seeing the red patio set made me it all that much more illegal. I can’t justify buying it, but I plan on doing just that. It’s cute. I think my 8 year old self would actually like it!

Night in an old house . . .

Old houses. Old haunted houses especially. I get a kick out of watching television shows about them. They scare me half witless. I then find comfort in knowing I can turn off the television, and feel safe again. Safe in my new house with only the history I have created with my growing brood. One would think that with all of the ghost shows I watch that I would jump at the chance to go stay in one of those grande old beauties. Ummm . . . Not so much. I mean part of me revels at the idea. The other part wants to tuck tail and say thanks but not thanks.I like that it’s over there and I’m over here. I want to look through that window or door, but I don’t really want to walk through it.

So as I write this I am sitting in a bed and breakfast in Nebraska City. A  house that was built in 1878. Yes, 1878. I am feeling a bit eek-ish. I moved from the parlor, to write this in the den where I felt just a tad bit less stared at. What the heck is staring at me? I can’t click off the television show I am in, so here I sit. Kind of cold. Don’t you feel kind of cold when a ghost is around? Yes . . . yes you do. I of all people know that. I am certain a lot went on here. The energy I feel is actually indifferent though. The inn keeper seems chipper. Not drained of all her energy like she’s trying to ward off something that says REDRUM all the time. I assumed that if she lives here and she seems pretty stable then all is well.

How did I get here? My mom received a B&B gift card for a one nights stay for her, and my dad. My dad would rather shoot someone in the foot, and go to jail for it than do the B&B thing. Just not his style. The look on his face when she opened her gift was priceless. I think I heard him say “Cripes” under his breath. Growing up he would say that instead of the “S” word to protect our virgin ears I guess. To me “Cripes” IS a curse word. So pops said Say La Vie (happily I might add) as my mom, sister, and my two kiddo’s took off on a drive about an hour away from home.

Ok, so it’s a little after midnight right now. You may be wondering if anyone has said “boo” yet. NO – Thank God!!! I just hadn’t blogged in awhile and felt the need to write because I kind of feel uneasy right now and everyone is sleep. I can’t sleep. This is turning out to be more of a diary entry lol.

Snacks while in time-out?

Call me old fashioned, but I was under the impression that you couldn’t ask for snacks while in time-out. Granted, she’s two and maybe doesn’t know the rules yet. However, I would think that asking for a tasty morsel would be an obvious “no no”. I mean, she was in trouble for having one her epic tantrums. I think. She’s always in trouble for something, that I sometimes don’t know why I am carrying her upstairs to her place of exile. 

So I place her in her crib. Legs flailing, and shrieking as though I’m about to drop her into a dark hole. It’s a pretty pink and white crib for goodness sake. I’d trade places with her in heart beat if I didn’t think the thing would break. The perfect place for a nap. She sits there Indian style screaming to get out, while her hands are gripped tightly around the bars. She did that on purpose to try and make her mother feel bad for putting her youngest in a jail like setting. I did not feel a twinge of remorse. I left the door open and went about my business of doing laundry, and whatever else I could think of during this time when I didn’t have her under foot. About 5 minutes go by, and she’s still freaking out. Then I hear silence. I pop my head in, and she’s staring at me as though she is really thinking hard about something. Trying to find just the right words. As our eyes meet, I tilt my head to the side, and feel in the air that this child isn’t done. The look in her eyes was one of pure confidence. I secretly admired that. I swear I heard that old west music when tumble weeds go by, and town folk are closing their shutters before the two men in black have a shoot out.

Ok, I thought, as I turned away. Then clear as a bell I hear . . . “Rice Krispy Treat and Juice?”. Stopped me in my tracks cold. Did she just ask for a snack while in time-out? Really? The concept was foreign to me. Who does that? Did she just ask in a sweet cute little voice, as though she was in a park with the family flying a kite? Really? I came to the conclusion that she knew exactly what she was doing. She calmed herself down before asking. She thought that would aid in her quest to jimmy this out of me. Of course I would say no if she’s screaming at me freaking out. Then, during said tantrum, ask for a snack? She knew. Oh she knew. Prior to her time-out, she just had lunch and about 8 gallons of milk, so she was good to go.

I turned back to look at her. By now she’s standing up and looking at me as if to say . . . . “I’m quiet and I’m CUTE! Now gimme a snack while I languish in this purgatory.” Perhaps bread, and a tiny bit of water would have been more fitting in this instance. There was no way I could say yes to her request. Let’s get this over with. “No”. I didn’t yell it. I simply said; “No”. Well . . . You would have thought I threw down some snapping rabid alligators, trailed by angry pit bulls and one rotweiller for good measure into her deep dark time-out abyss. Oh and throw in a cat. It doesn’t even have a be a tiger or anything.  A regular cute cuddly house cat will suffice. She hates cats.

She threw her little arms up, and flung herself back as though her life was over. She let out a scream that I have never heard from her before, or since actually. In her world, there was no hope for anything else ever again. I am quite certain she got an ab workout during that tantrum. I had to shut her door for this one. After about 15 minutes pass, I hear silence – Again. Half scared, I check in on her. She’s sound asleep. Thank God!!! It is sooooo tiring being bad.

My Mudroom Fascination

I am not sure when it started, but I seem to have a love of mudrooms. Something about them that just says “home”. Yeah, that may sound corny, but they really do! I know they are supposed to be drop off/pass through points. But they make me just want to linger.

Below are some of my faves that I have come across:

This one is simple, and to the point. Reminds me of a mudroom in a 1940′s house. No pish posh is added here, which I kinda like. Need an umbrella? It’s on the knobs.

This one below caught my eye because of the black table and black hardware. Ok, the pretty flowers and candle caught my eye, too. For some reason it reminds me of coming in from an awful snowstorm, and “Thank God we’re home!”

This one gave me a-grandmother-in-the-woods, and my grand-daughter, Little-Red-Riding-Hood-is-about-to-come-in-with-my- snacks type feel. However, something tells me that kids don’t live here. Very pretty though.

The Pet Friendly Mudroom: This one made me smile. Until I saw the dog in the cage. I’m hoping he’s being held there for his visit to the vet because he runs away type thing. At any rate, I really like this one. Mostly because I’ve never come across a doggie mudroom before, and it’s just so darn cute.

To me this one invokes an image of the school house on Little House on the Prairie. I have no idea why. I’m just going with LHOTP. Ahhhh . . . maybe it’s because there are so many hooks, and storage places – duh. Gives you that school feel.

 This one says: “I’m in an apartment in NYC.” Maybe your saying “HUH” to that. But, that’s the image I have - utilization of a small space. Mudrooms don’t have to be this grandeous thing that you have to spend tons of money on. I bought that same shoe rack at Wal-Mart for about $15.00. Voila!!! Instant shoe station! The bench is just adorable. The chalkboard with the white frame and the pink baskets set it off : )

This stairwell mudroom is the bomb.com. How can you NOT love this one? You can turn the corner and OMG there’s more!

STOP THE PRESS! Are you kidding me?! This one makes me want to shut the door and put up a sign that reads “Go Away”.  There’s really no place to lounge. I don’t know what I would do in there. Climb the ladder maybe? Who thinks of that? I’m pretty sure this one is in a mansion that was built in 1902. The Astor descendants perhaps? Who cares. Love love love this! Not one, but TWO chandeliers!

The accidental mudroom: I like this one because something tells me they didn’t plan it. Bet it’s on a farm in Surry, England. It works. I have those same hunter boots that live in my mudroom just so I can get this effect. Thanks to my sis in CA for that awesome Christmas gift! Big, black-black boots always make a mudroom.

For some reason, I picture the owner of this mudroom being a seasoned newpaper editor. Looks like it might have been here for awhile and this person has all their ducks lined up. I didn’t like it at first, but, I kept coming back to it. It was probably the dog staring at me. He’s cute. This one can work.

Last, but most certainly, not least – The pink and green mudroom ; ) Just pretty to look at. You can ONLY have pink and green items in it though.

Thanks for taking a LOOK at my mudroom world! : )

Two year old monster.

We just witnessed the worst 2 yr old tantrum EVER! After about 45 minutes we (her dad, sister and I ) were secretly impressed. She was not giving up. We do plan on honing that. At any rate, the little Crutcher monster is now sleeping “all that bad” off. I have to remember – she’s one of our two little blessings : )

Meeting white people

I like when I meet a white person, and I realize that they have other black friends. I hate when I am a white person’s only black friend. I don’t mind white people as friends but as far as their world goes, it’s like uncharted territory and you aren’t sure how everyone in their circle will react. But when you see another black person, it’s like territory already charted. “Oh they went to your home and no one lynched em, cool”. I know I’m exaggerating and I’m pulling in Mississippi circa 1952.  The most I would probably get would be overhearing . . . “Um, you’re friends with HER?” Good Lord, I’m out! But even that might be extreme. It’s more along the lines of quick glances and a fake smile from across the room. Strategically across the room.

Also, when you go into a new town and see only white people you feel unsafe until you see a black person for some reason. Well me anyway. When you finally do see one, you look them over to make sure they look right, and they don’t look scared like someone is chasing them. If all looks well, then I know I’m safe.