It Really Is Goodbye

I just started using Google+ today.  LOVE IT.  For many reasons, but mostly because I think it combines everything I like about facebook, twitter, and blogspot.  It puts everything together, I can post everything that I would spread out over these three sites in one place and still only have the people who want/need to read it see it.  It's not a shotgun approach like facebook.  Any of you who are my friends there know my policy on vaguebooking and/or being too specific, which really limits what you can share.  I've always thought that facebook and twitter were a shotgun approach to social networking. Throw a lot of information out there and hope it hits something.  Google+ lets me catch up with my awesome cousins in a more personal way without everyone who ever went to school with or goes to my church reading it.  So this is the last of my blog.  If you want an invitation to Google+ let me know, I'll be glad to get you going.  I look forward to having a "hang out" with you soon.  Don't know what a hang out is?  http://edition.englishclub.com/esl-magazine/google-plus/

Random Catness

I really try to keep my inner cat lady under wraps.  Occasionally, I just have to talk about my stupid cats.  Malcom, that's the pretty boy on the top, is a lovable pain in the ass.  Radnar, the orange kitty on the bottom, is the best cat I've ever had.  They keep me from climbing the water tower and starting a genocide.

Malcom (AKA Mal, Mally, Malfs, Maliburton, Malibu, Mowler, Malfurs, Murderface Murderface Murderface, and more recently Malfeasance) has decided he knows how to use a keyboard.  He'll climb on my lap while I'm editing in Photo Shop and then pushes buttons.  I don't always know how to fix the things he's done, so I end up starting over.  Then he pats my face with his paws while mewing and purring at me while a swear at him in six different languages.  That's one of my hidden talents, I can swear in English, French, Spanish, Cantonese, Japanese, and Gaelic.  In fact Malcom just started chewing on my camera's USB cable and I told him diu lei lo mo.  You don't want to know what it means.  It really doesn't help, the only thing that does is cuddling him up into a little kitten ball and telling him how pretty he is until he falls asleep or leaves.  He weighs 14 lbs., this is no small feat.  I mostly swear at him in Cantonese though because I think he might be Asian.  He really wants to give everyone he meets a full mani-pedi and facial with his sandpaper tongue.

Radnar (AKA Fatty Raddy, Agent Orange, Orange Surprise, Toilet Kitten, Drinker of The Forbidden Waters, Scabby Tabby, Mellow Yellow, Stinkerton Von Schmeltz, Vesuvius Dangerkitten, but mostly Rads) is easy going and pretty hilarious.  You may wonder why so many of his nicknames are just a little disgusting, well, he's a little disgusting.  You may have gathered that he likes to drink from the toilet, not just any toilet though, the guest bathroom toilet.  I catch him all the time since he learned how to open the door himself.  He just stares at you with his cat arm hanging over the bowl like "Why ya gotta be a playa hata?" when you try to shoo him out.  Then when you are in there doing your thing he tries to stick his paws under the door and talks to you in a series of howls and chirps.  Indeed.

His other famous move is to snuggle up on your lap and go to sleep (also a 14lb. cat), which isn't so bad until your legs fall asleep or he pulls his other amazing stunt.  He is the only cat I know that farts out loud.  Hence, Stinkerton Von Schmeltz.  Not cool Raddy, old boy.  Scabby Tabby is a little less obvious, mostly because you can't see his tail in this picture.  He got it caught in something and broke it, half of it is now dead.  The vet says to be patient, eventually it will fall off.  Now there's something to get excited about.  Even though he's kinda gross, he's my little buddy.  Rads loves hanging out with you, and unlike Malcom he doesn't get all up in your business.  When I'm having a rough day Rads will perch up on my computer desk and do his version of cat stand-up until I laugh.  I don't get the jokes, be he really sells it.  So that's what is going on behind the scenes when I do a photo shoot for you or your family.  A lot of what my mom calls "Cat Badness" or "Random Catness."

Parenthood and Me

I always thought that by the time I was 30 I'd have a house full of kids and pets.  I'll be 31 next month and I have neither.  I'm not looking for sympathy or advice, I'm happy in my life.  Raym and I are still trying to have kids, and we still consider adoption.  I've been playing this game for almost 9 years now, and I got done crying about it 7 years ago.  What will be will be.  I'm not a kid hater though, and some people seem to think that Raym and I aren't having kids for selfish reasons.  Feel free to judge, I'm not going to suddenly start caring about your opinion.

I do have concerns about raising children though.  I am confident in my ability to be a good mother, but I wonder about the world I'd be bringing them into.  I see toddlers on leashes, 4th graders in booster seats, and wonder to myself about the lack of boundaries and consequences.  I supervise the nursery for children 18 mos. to 3 years at my church.  A surprising amount of them live their lives with no boundaries and no idea at all what NO means.  No is one of the first words you learn to speak, it should be one of the first words you understand.

I'm not talking about spanking your kids everyday before bed whether they need it or not, but if you are going to put your little snot on a leash don't judge me when I choose to swat my little brat's diaper padded butt in public.  I'm not above public embarrassment as punishment either, sometimes the only way you are going to learn to stop being a little jerk is to get your ass chewed in front of your peers or people you look up to.  BTW, it's not okay to be a little jerk.  Manners are important, such as not interrupting people when they are speaking, not wiping your booger/food crusted face all over their shirt while they are eating, not tearing apart the furniture, and hitting/kicking/biting anyone.  Most of all, it's about teaching this stuff at home through repetition and kindness so when I release my little hellions into the world we never have to go "there."  I have Zero respect for parents who are always yelling and swearing at their kids too, it's just as bad as the kid leash freak parade.

I totally anticipate a lot of work/heartache to have good kids that are happy being who they are and understand how to interact with other people.  I'll continue to be highly unpopular with the "cool parents" and sometimes I'll fail, but I'm not going to give up and I'm not going to abandon the all of the Old Ways.  Eating canned spinach is, in fact, a form of torture.  Learning to be a good citizen is not. Riding shotgun in your dad's work truck is a privilege, not child endangerment.  You probably shouldn't stand up though because you'll bounce your head off the dash when he hits the breaks--something you only learn by doing (consider it your first lesson in physics).

It's not all a rant at society either.  I look forward to teaching my little girls how to fish for Brookies, saddle their own horse, shoot a rifle, can fruit, tie a quilt, and make No Bake Cookies.  I can't wait to take my kids out to learn to drive in our old pick up.  Most of all I can't wait to share my parents with them.  Now, if I just had some kids...

These Are The Things I Will Fight For...

These are just some random pictures from my collection, but they do remind me why I like to take pictures.

Freedom isn't free, and I'm not talking about whether or not I support our troops or the unjust wars we are fighting in the Middle East.  I'm talking about personal freedom.  So many of us accept various forms of slavery without thinking twice.  I got to thinking about this yesterday when everyone was complaining about "Mondays" on facebook.  I realize that most people are just trying to make conversation--see my entry from last week about poor communication.  In my head if you whine every time you get ready for work, then there is something seriously wrong.  Either you are a perpetual whiner and have no place in polite society, or your job is a soul sucking chore from hell.  Work, by it's very nature is generally hard; but if you honestly hate it and your heart is not in it, going to it everyday that makes you no better than a prostitute.

I love the bible verses from Matthew 5:14-16 "Ye are the light of the world.  A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.  Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.  Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven."  Even if you are not a Christian, you can agree with this sentiment.  If you've got something good to give, and you don't share it, you've committed quite a crime indeed.  Enter the sticky part of this situation: 

I have a crappy job, so I can't share my love of ________ with my friends and neighbors.  I have to go to my job because somebody has to pay the bills.  ________ won't pay the bills, and no one else will either.  My life sucks and it's all because I've got these responsibilities. 

WRONG

I have no patience for victims and whiners.  My pity well ran dry years ago.  I have no tolerance for people who believe that they cannot do better.  We all have something valid and valuable to contribute to this world, and in your heart of hearts you know without a doubt what it is--stop telling it to shut up.  Not sharing it is selfish and greedy.  Maybe you are the best drywaller this world has ever seen, to not make walls for a living is a crime my friend.  Maybe you understand the sanitation business better than anyone else, to spend your days doing anything else is a waste (pun intended).  We are not all Doctors and Scientists, but we all have something we were born to be good at.  Someday, you will have to answer for not using your talents and time wisely. 

"But Richens I gots the bills to pay, and this guy will pay me the monies if I just show up everyday and not bitch to loudly..."  May I present to you the slavery of debt?  Maybe it's debt you had no choice but to take on at the time (I've got some myself), or maybe it's a bunch of crap you bought to look cool (I used to have some of that too).  Either way you've got these "bills" to pay.  Powerful people are not allowed to purchase other human beings outright anymore, there's laws against it.  However, they can loan you money, and once they do that, they do essentially own you.  I'm not talking to you about your jerk of a boss, he doesn't own you neither does your banker.  The guy who gave you the loan to buy your tricked out Pinto Wagon does.  Capital One owns you every time you use their card to buy a tasty pair of shoes.  GMAC owns you until you pay your house off.  Avoid debt, and avoid bondage my friend.  Then you don't get trapped at a job you hate with a pig-beast of a boss, just so you can service your bills.

You're already there, I know.  I have been too.  Sometimes, yes, you have to gut it out at a mediocre/terrible job to make ends meet.  Don't let it become a lifestyle.  This brings us back to Freedom isn't free.  Get your house in order, release yourself from the bondage of debt, make the sacrifices necessary to pursue your life's work (do what you love and the money will come).  Most of all have a plan and don't be a whiner.  Nobody likes the guy who has spent his entire useful life working at something he hates until he has become a bitter nasty old man with nothing to show for it.  Certainly nobody wants to be that guy.  Angry young men are sexy, but nobody likes a bitter old bastard.

Much Too Much

I don't have a picture today, but I have a lot on my mind.

I find myself right on the edge of insanity lately.  I'm as busy as I want to be, but not so busy I'm feeling pressure from that.  I love teaching guitar lessons and taking pictures for people.  That's working pretty good.  What is really eating at me is a little hard to define, but I'll take a stab at it because I think it is on a lot of other people's minds too.

I'm having a lot of trouble communicating with people anymore.  Almost like everyone else is shooting bullets and I'm throwing them.  Not in that I can't write a coherent sentence, or call/text someone on the phone, visit with my friends/family, send an email, update my facebook status, or make an entry in my blog, but more in the sense that I don't feel like I'm connecting at all.  People acknowledge that I'm speaking, but I don't think they hear what I am saying.  By the same token, people are talking at me all day, and I can't tell if I'm supposed to take the stuff coming out of their mouths seriously.

I don't think it's because our "smart phones are making us dumber," or that social networking has made us lonely and isolated.  You don't get to blame things on your parents or the public school system (aka, the donkey corral) either.  I'm sure some of you have heard me say that when everyone else is the problem, the problem is most likely you.  This is where I am at.  I've decided the problem must be me.

I do try to make a conscious effort to really listen when people are talking to me (at least I think I do).  I try not to judge what people are saying, but all I have to understand it with are my own experiences.  I try not to fix their problems either--that's a good way to lose friends and create enemies.  When I speak I try to be direct without being hurtful, and I'm working on keeping my mouth shut.  It's a process.

However, I'm inclined to think that this problem isn't all me.  I can't take all of the responsibility for everyone else's poor communication skills, lack of self esteem and emotional immaturity.  I can't fix it either and it's starting to wear on me.  I like solutions, even if they are hard, time consuming and costly.  So far, I haven't found an acceptable fix for this that doesn't involve cake uranium.

The main reason it gets to me is that I can't run away from it.  I try to play my guitar to relieve the pressure, but it just gets faster and angrier until my fingers bleed.  I try to take abstract or nature pictures, but I lack focus and all of this negative energy will not create anything satisfactory.  I write, and by the time I'm done with this particular piece I will be wound so tight that sleeping pills and pain killers are only going to take a little of the edge off.  I find some solace in my religion, but people are the problem and going to church tends exacerbate my frustration.  I love music, but it doesn't help, it only confirms my worst fears.  Exercise is something I do so I won't get any fatter, period--I don't get a high from doing it.  Anti-depressants haven't worked either, so don't suggest it, and rose colored glasses (hiding it under a rug) give me headaches.  Also, I don't drink anymore, I've never done illicit drugs, or ones I didn't have a prescription for (though I'm starting to see their appeal), and I don't sleep around.

So where does this leave me?  Hell if I know.  Am I a hateful embittered mess?  No, I love individual people and I like helping them; I actually do have the option to be a recluse and not interact with anyone and I've chosen not to.  I guess sometimes you just get tired of fighting the good fight, and maybe that's where I'm at now.  I'm tired and I'm losing it.  Will I get a second wind?  Probably.  Should I get to have online rants about it, yeah, I think we all have that right otherwise the interweb really would just be a large conduit for porn.

What I'm Doing For Summer Vacation

Most adults who aren't teachers don't get Summer Vacation.  I do, in a sense, I guess, even though summer is the busiest time of year for me.  I've got photo shoots almost daily right now, and since I started doing weddings that keeps me doubly busy.  I've let my blogs go, and honestly I don't feel too bad about it.  They are mostly for me anyway.  I was in the middle of a list before I took a break.  My heart wasn't in it, and the list was pretty redundant so I'm abandoning it.

Summers are unbelievably short in the BV.  This one didn't really start until the last week of June.  My spidey senses tell me that we will have an early fall too, I'm guessing it will be full on fall by the first or second week of September.  Which means I will have roughly 2 months of actual summer.  I'm making the most of it by taking lots of pictures--most of them are for clients, so I don't post them publicly.

I have been experimenting with my camera, which is loads of fun.  I did a bokeh project, and tonight I think I'll try painting with light.  It's a little too overcast for star shots right now, but I've got some of those planned in the near future.  For those of you just getting into photography, this is a great website:  http://www.diyphotography.net/  It focuses on using what you've got at hand rather than elaborate photoshop tutorials.  Photoshop is a valuable tool no doubt, but if you don't know how to use light and your camera no amount of digital editing can make up for that.  For example:

There are no photoshop effects in this picture.  These pansies are really those colors :)  The stars in the background (you have to click on the image to see them) come from a bokeh filter I made myself and a regular lawn sprinkler.  I did crop this picture, and remove a fly from the background, that is it.

I've been asked several times by people just starting out what camera to get.  I say if you are not already a pro, get yourself a Canon Rebel (they have one to suit any budget), and the best lens you can afford.  The EFS 50mm II is a great starter lens, and you can pick one up for around $100.  If you've been shooting for a while and you want to know what camera will knock your socks off, get a Canon 5D Mark II.  If you are currently using $10 bills to wipe your butt with, get a Hasselblad.  Next, take lots and lots of pictures.

Sometimes it helps to have a photography buddy.  I'm always up for a safari :)

Drift Off To Dream...

Don't get me wrong, I love Tool.  They can be very meditative and deep, when they aren't singing songs about STDs.  They are an amazing band and some of their songs are perfect to fall asleep to.  Last year, when I was on a lot of opiate pain killers, Parabola rocked my world.  Now I settle for a little aromatherapy mix of Lavender, Clary Sage, and Frankincense to go with my Tool fix.  The dreams are still incredible, but you don't feel like you are going to be eaten by your own eyeballs and you don't wake up in a hot sweat with cottonmouth. 

Watch Yourself

The thought of me dancing is, well, not pleasant and I'm sorry that you are now thinking about it.  I do have some go to  dance music though, which would be anything by Sam Sparro or Lady Gaga.  I appreciate both for not trying to be deep, and for not trying to hide their crazy.  That's all I expect from dance music.

Gotta love this video too.  Reminds me of my babysitter from Las Vegas.

All The Words By Heart

This is one of the few (very few) songs I can sing and play at the same time.  Hence, I know all the words.  It reminds me of my brother too.  True To Life Fun Fact:  Mike Durnt, aka, Mike Pritchard, the base player is distantly related to me.  Not really anything to write home about.  Meeting Chris LeDoux at the Denny's in Cheyenne was as close to fame as I've ever gotten.

A Threefur

I've got a little catching up to do on my song list, I went to visit my in-laws in The Basin, and I haven't been around for a few days.

A song that reminds me of someone:  This song always reminds me of my dad.  I remember the first time I really heard it, I was very little, and he was singing along with it in his Semi and we were headed down the freeway in LA.  It's still awesome, and it still makes me smile.

A song that reminds me of someplace:  I have plenty of songs that remind me of someplace.  My life is like a never ending road trip.  I have one song that is like a time machine though, and it's this one.  It's a stupid song, but it takes me back to 1995 in Ephraim, UT just like it was yesterday.

A song that reminds me of an event:  This song will forever remind me of my high school graduation.  11 Years later, it rings true.

Sad Songs & Waltzes

I don't really have one go to song for sadness.  These three are melancholic in the most perfect ways though.

Je Regret...

This Blink video has to be in my top three videos of all time, and I'm not a huge Blink fan.  It's so beautifully shot, even Travis Barker looks hot.

If your album name is Sing the Sorrow, then you better bring the sorrow.  Love me some AFI.

The Hap-Happiest Song of All

There are some songs that make little or no sense, but when you hear them you can't help but be lifted from whatever minor funk you were in.  Most of Beck's songs are like that.  A close second would be this one:

I am no fan of New Country, but Dwight Yoakam is kind of like Alternative/Country.  Buck Owens was ahead of his time.  This song can improve my mood too.

However, the Hap-Happiest Song of all is this one:

Is it a good song.  NO.  Is it well written?  Absolutely not.  Do I break out in a fit of laughter every time it comes on?  YES!  It's terrifically bad, so bad, it has gone all the way around the circle back to good.  Kind of like Pulp Fiction.  So, no matter how crappy my day is, if this song comes on it can lift me from the deepest depression.

Songs Gone Horribly Wrong

Today, I'm supposed to post my least favorite song.  I can actually point you to my least favorite genre, and that would be New Country.  Let me make my case:

5.  Lady Antebellum, Need You Now.  Yes ladies and gents, this is a song about booty calling your ex.  Don't glorify it.  It's drunk dialing at it's finest.  You can lay it down as a haunting ballad, but it's still trashy and a little sad.

4.  Brad Paisley, Ticks.  I think that a song about checking people for parasites is a little yuck.  Not clever, just yuck.  This is from the mind that brought you "Get A Little Mud on The Tires," I'm hoping this is an homage to four wheeling and not what it sounds like.  Parasites and Mud references--eeeeewwww.

3.  Anything by Taylor Swift.  Not because Taylor Swift is a bad singer or song writer.  She's quite good.  It's her fans.  They make me want to scream and throw things.  A good song played every fifteen minutes, everyday, becomes a monster and must be staked through the heart.

2.  Kenny Chesney, remake Fishin In The Dark.  This one chapped my ass pretty hard.  In fact I had to leave the store I was shopping in before I had a come apart the first time I heard it.  Nitty Gritty Dirt Band did this right.  They made it fun, it's one of my favorites.  Kenny Chesney slutted it up and dumbed it down and made it awful.  He should be shot repeatedly in the crotch with a paintball gun at close range for what he did to this song.

1.  The song you've all been waiting for and quite possibly the most insipid thing on the radio today:

Sugarland, Stuck Like Glue:

When you become a successful country singer, and someone says to you "Hey, I think we need to do a Jamaican Style Rap in the middle of this song!"   Just say no.  It's wrong.  Stop doing it.  Fire your manager, change your label, whatever you have to do to get away from it.

There is something worse than Pop Music, and it's Country Pop Music.  Sure it's mostly inoffensive and catchy.  That's what makes it so awful.  When they play their top 40 you can actually feel yourself getting dumber.  There is good country out there, it just doesn't get played on the radio.  I'm sure it's all part of a conspiracy, because even King George has gotten crappy the last 10 years or so.  Don't even get me started on Reba MacEntire, she's never been great, but she's gotten really awful...

Anyway it's just my opinion.

A Departure From Depth

I love music.  No, I mean, I really love music.  I'm not good at playing it, I can't sing and play the guitar at the same time.  I do have an endless supply of music on my iPod, and I still have my CD binder from when I was in high school.  For those of you unacquainted with the CD Binder,  this was a way to physically store your huge collection of music.  It was also a sure indication that you were broke, ostensibly because you spent all your money buying CDs.  Compact Discs, not Certificates of Deposit.  Both are a lame investment, but I digress.


So I'm going to share 30 Days of My Music with you.  I stole this idea from Facebook, because that's where everyone steals their ideas from.  It goes like this:

day 01 - your favorite song
day 02 - your least favorite song
day 03 - a song that makes you happy 
day 04 - a song that makes you sad
day 05 - a song that reminds you of someone
day 06 - a song that reminds you of somewhere
day 07 - a song that reminds you of a certain event 
day 08 - a song that you know all the words to
day 09 - a song that you can dance to
day 10 - a song that makes you fall asleep 
day 11 - a song from your favorite band 
day 12 - a song from a band you hate 
day 13 - a song that is a guilty pleasure 
day 14 - a song that no one would expect you to love 
day 15 - a song that describes you 
day 16 - a song that you used to love but now hate 
day 17 - a song that you hear often on the radio
day 18 - a song that you wish you heard on the radio
day 19 - a song from your favorite album
day 20 - a song that you listen to when you’re angry 
day 21 - a song that you listen to when you’re happy
day 22 - a song that you listen to when you’re sad
day 23 - a song that you want to play at your wedding
day 24 - a song that you want to play at your funeral
day 25 - a song that makes you laugh
day 26 - a song that you can play on an instrument
day 27 - a song that you wish you could play
day 28 - a song that makes you feel guilty
day 29 - a song from your childhood 
day 30 - your favorite song at this time last year


Without further ado, my favorite song:

When they make a movie about my life, this will play during the credits.

It's Hard To Define

I've had a lot on my mind lately, and most if it is so angry it doesn't need to be shared.  However, I'll share what I can without being a jerk.

First of all, I'm tired of the Holier Than Thou Eco Nazis.  I use paper towels.  Get over it.  What else am I going to clean cat barf up with?  I'm not running that toxic sludge through my clothes washer.  I do my best in other areas.  I do what I can to responsibly water my lawn, which is a unending battle with my husband who thinks that the lawn needs to be watered constantly.  I plan my trips; when you drive a gas guzzling wildebeest, you have to.  I eat only ranch raised, free grazing, beef and pork in moderation.  I try to buy locally, so the goods I'm consuming don't circumnavigate the globe before they reach my house.  I plant a garden, compost, dry clothes outside when I can, and I keep my use of electricity to a minimum.  I use steam cleaners to clean and sterilize my house.  Short of killing myself, I don't know how much more I can feasibly reduce my carbon foot print.

Which brings me to my next point.  I can't deal with the amount of crap I'm supposed to buy and participate in to be cool.  On one hand we should leave no trace; and on the other you're considered backwards if you aren't driving the latest model car, siding your house with stucco, taking your boat to the Gorge, and going shopping every weekend.  I'm over it.  I have 3 functioning pick-ups in my fleet, 2 of them are paid for, and the other one will be paid off very soon.  We're not buying another one.  Debt is the modern equivalent of slavery.  Our house is unexciting and dated, and until it's paid off, it's going to become less exciting and more dated everyday.  I tired of my husband working his guts out just to maintain the norm.  I want to be better than normal, and I think he shouldn't be asked to take on hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of debt to be cool.

Finally, just because I don't support gay marriage doesn't mean I hate gay people.  No really.  I don't support the government's recognition of marriage, period.  That includes; gay, straight, polygamist, and anything else you come up with.  Who you choose to be with is none of their business, the only reason they are is so they can find new and interesting ways to tax you.  It's got nothing to do with morals or equality.  It's all about money.  I want to see welfare, social security, medicare, and medicade gone too.  These are just ways to control people.  They have nothing to do with helping anyone.  These programs help divide up our population and assign labels like "low income," "disabled," and "at risk," they do nothing to actually improve our quality of life.

I don't know what I am exactly, it's hard to define.  I think global warming is actually a warm crock of you know what, but I think that everyone should be doing their best to use less and be responsible in their treatment of the environment.  Scaring people into doing the right thing is not okay.  I'm heavily invested in the stock market and I love capitalism, but consumerism will be the end of the world as we know it.  Trying to regulate debt and the US Dollar won't fix it.  Mostly I'm angry and disgusted that you cannot have a productive discussion on any of these topics with people from either side of the issues.  You just get blasted with the same old propaganda over and over again.  Is it a lack of self confidence that leads people to believe that they must cling on to these old ideas and ways of doing things?  Are we too stupid to think for ourselves? No, I think it is much worse than that.  We are too lazy to.

Does This Pack Make Me Look Fat?

The correct answer to that question is "No, your fat makes you look fat!"

I just recently purchased my Dueter 35+ pack.  My brother got me Trekking Poles for Christmas, and I'm ready to start fat packing.  I currently weigh 210 lbs., I should weigh 130.  I am hoping to loose enough weight to fill my backpack by the end of our summer, which would be around 40 lbs.  I am training for a hike into Red Castle in August, and so far, I really enjoy getting in shape.  Whether or not I loose 40 lbs. this summer, I hope to be in good enough shape to start snow shoeing this coming winter.  I know I'm fat, but my goal is not really to become super model skinny.  My main goal is to get in good enough shape to summit King's Peak next summer, and to not jiggle like Santa Claus when I brush my teeth.

I've changed my diet, and I'm eating around 1800 calories a day, 50% from lean protien, 40% from carbs/fiber, and 10% from healthy fats and oils.  Quinoa, Salmon, Pistachios and Pine Nuts are my buddies right now.  This may seem like a lot, especially to people out there who have adopted a low-carb-run-your-ass-off lifestyle.  If it's working for you, super.  I however, can't force myself to run unless I'm being chased by something.  Also, when I want a piece of pie, I'm going to have one.

I am walking/hiking 6 days a week now.  Currently, I walk for 2 hours in the morning and do Power 90 for strength training.  As the weather improves along with my cardiovascular strength, I'm going to increase the amount of time I spend walking/hiking every morning to 3 hours and at least one long day hike per week. This is were my high protein diet comes into play.  You need that kind of protein to keep your muscles going on long hikes.

Now, I know this is extreme.  I don't have a "job" in the sense that I work 8-5, 5 days a week though, and I have the time to do this.  Also, I'm looking for good picture opportunities, and hiking is a great way to do that.  Hiking burns around 500 per hour, and it helps to strengthen your bones and when you use trekking poles it doesn't beat the crap out of your knees like running does.  Did I mention I don't like to run?

Fear vs. Respect

I don't have a picture to share today, just a thought or two.

I've been dealing with people lately that don't understand the difference between fear and respect, and consequently receive neither from me.  We all know someone like this, that thinks they rule with an iron fist.  That their word is law, and we all realize that and humble ourselves before them.  People who think they are ruling through fear are often suffering from delusions of grandeur too.

Short of being an evil dictator, i.e., Kim Jong Il, people are just humoring you so they don't have to deal with you.  You're a blow hard windbag, your ideas are maniacal, and people are done fighting with you because it's like running on a hamster wheel.  Or, as my friend Jan says, you can't fix stupid.  Unfortunately, most of us have one or more of these in our lives that we can't get away from.  Usually, they are a family member.  Usually, they think they are acting for the good of the group and sadly most people let them.

My best defense in the past few years has always been to walk away, I don't like to allow that kind of contention and drama into my life anymore.  However, I believe I've reached a point where the buck stops with me.  It's going to be hard, I've abandoned a lot of my nastier ways of fighting.  Gone are the days of singling people out and then turning the group against them.  No more belittling my opponent until they break.  Those are the tactics of some one who demands fear.  I've been there, it's lonely and ugly.

Instead, I have to try to communicate.  I have to let time and truth work on my side; I don't have to sugar coat it, but I can't bludgeon people with it either.  I have to treat people who don't deserve it with kindness because angry words are no longer heard.  Which also means I can't scream obscenities at them until they go away.

However, the things I'm fighting for are worth it.  I've learned that you can't let one or two people ruin a whole family.  It can take many generations before it ever gets fixed, and if you don't work on it at all, it snowballs into a dysfunctional mess that can't be repaired.  I believe it's on the brink of major disaster, communication has shut down.  Everybody has resorted to screaming or crying.  Pettiness and outright rudeness rule the day and I'm removed from the situation just enough to be helpful.  I have only a small stake in the outcome and nothing to gain but self respect.  Am I trying to compensate for all the nastiness I have been a part of during my lifetime?  Probably.   Do I have to try?  Yes.

Perception is 9/10ths of the Problem

It's the beginning of photography season for me this year.  I usually take the winter off because it's too cold for most people to want their pictures done outside, and everybody looks sallow and washed out.  It's debatable as to whether spring has officially started in Wyoming, but the grass is greening up so I'm going it with.

I was asked to do a series of shoots for a stylist friend of mine who is building up her portfolio.  It has been a blast.  Mostly because when you have a professional on location, touching up make-up and making sure hair is perfect there is a lot less editing to do after the fact.  It also got me thinking a lot about how we perceive ourselves.

Megan

These are not professional models, they are actually just girls from my neighborhood.

Ali

In fact, some of them I go to church with.

Ashley

It's amazing what a little hair and make-up can do.

Lyndsey

Not to mention natural light.  It's my favorite way to shoot.  Natural light doesn't lie.  Which brings me to my point.

The pictures above are my rendition of Megan, Ali, Ashely, and Lyndsey; and maybe not the way they see themselves.  My favorite portraits are usually taken after I've told someone to relax, that I've gotten what I wanted.  Shooting with a DSLR helps, because you usually can't hear my shutter, and I use static lighting rather than blasting people with flash.  I feel like I get more honest shots this way.  Maybe it's my way of sticking it to the people who dreamed up the "glamor shot." Other than a little blemish removal or adjusting white balance, I avoid Photo Shop retouching.  I want people to see themselves the way I see them, with a little bit of what is on the inside showing through.  That is why I think of myself as The Invisible Woman when I'm shooting, I try very hard not to leave my mark in the pictures.

Day 30: The END of Penny for real

I've got a lot of pictures together for this, along with a song from my favorite genre of music.  It's a pretty cool slide show if I could ever get it all put together.  However, it's not happening until I get somewhere where I can get the right power cord from my inherited scanner.  So, rather that sit around and wait for it any longer, I'll just cut to the chase and reveal the rest later.

I don't know that I learned a whole lot about myself that I didn't already have a handle on before.  I do like to share, but there are a lot of things that I don't.  Not because you can't handle it, not because I can't, but because there are some things that you just keep to yourself.  There are a lot of intangibles in everyone's life, and the older I get the more I understand how these play into our relationships.  We are all covering things and protecting ourselves from others, and that's not a bad thing as long as you're not lying.  Spilling your beans to every person in your contact list is not a good idea.

This is the reason I never got a tattoo.  Things that I care enough about to actually to commit to for a life time are too sacred to share with the general public, and don't belong on my lower back either.  It's got nothing to do with whether or not it's cool, or morally okay, it has a lot more to do with what I'm willing to reveal about myself.  I don't have a very good poker face either, so I try to stay under the radar and never miss an opportunity to keep my mouth shut.  It's the only way I can keep friends and maintain my sanity.

So, with that jumbled mess of thoughts, I'm going to end this bit.  I hope you liked it, I hope I didn't offend anyone that didn't have it coming.  I've got a lot going on right now, and as I figure it out I'll share.  This blog was always meant to be more of a Behind the Music kind of thing for my photography, and now that season is picking up for me again.  I've got a great shoot coming up this weekend, so look forward to some funner, lighter stuff next week sometime.

The End of Penny...

I have gotten off track on my 30 Days of Penny, mostly because I've got to round up some pictures.  I've got a lot of prep to do this week for other things, and other blogs, but I will have a grand finale sort of bit for this on Friday.  I've got something in mind, and I don't it to be something I threw together at the last minute just to stay on a schedule that only exists on the world wide web.  It's been a fun project, and I feel that I should probably put a little effort into it.

Day 26 of Penny

This is me when I was seven or eight.  My Aunt Charlyn took this picture, when we were playing in the snow at Mt. Charleston.

You know, I suppose there are quite a few people out there who genuinely don't like me.  I'm not afraid to speak up when something obvious needs to be said, and other than the occasional revealing blog entry I keep most of my communication pretty superficial.  There's more than one person I've unintentionally burned by not being completely open with them, but still saying exactly what I think.  So do I think the community I live in perceives me as nice person, I'm going to go with probably not.

At a glance, I suppose I blend in with the crowd pretty well.  I don't have anything particularly stand out about my appearance.  I'm not particularly fashionable, my house is just a house, and my truck is just another vehicle.  So I would guess that unless someone actually talks to me, I'm quite forgettable.

On the flip side.  When people really need someone to talk to, they usually open up to me.  Even people I don't normally pal around with.  I think that is because I'll be honest with them about their feelings, but not tear them down.  When something hard needs to be done, I'm the cavalry and I don't expect to get a pat on the back.  All in all, despite everything mentioned above, I have a good circle of friends.  I think it is because people who do take the time to find what I'm about learn that I'm genuine and loyal, even though I'm about as cuddly as a hedge hog.

Day 25 of Penny

Ten Things I'd like to do before I die, broken down into 5 Categories.  There is no particular order to these, not one that I must do any more than any other.

 International Travel:

1.  The UK and Europe

2.  Japan

 Personal & Family:

3.  Have kids, I'm open to adoption

4.  Get back to my ideal weight and stay within 10lbs of it

 Hikes:

5.  The Grand Canyon

6.  Summit King's Peak

 Monetary/Financial:

7.  Amass $2,000,000.  I believe you can live quite comfortably on 2M if it is invested and managed correctly

8.  Get completely out of debt and then pay cash for everything

Day Dreams and Silly Things:
9.  Have a pet Burro, that I will name Sanchez
10.  Learn to make really good homemade pie

Day 24 of Penny

You know, I'm pretty luck to live where I do. Even though people get bored and gossip, for the most part they take care of each other. Most acts of kindness aren't really all that random. I have one neighbor who helps everybody else get the snow out of theirs first before he finishes his. When someone here has a major medical problem the whole community pitches in to make sure they have enough money to cover it. Recently we had two different men have terrible medical struggles and the community got together and donated goods and services for an auction and dinner fund raiser for them. Over $40,000 was raised in one evening. This, from a community of around 5000 people total. You can't drive anywhere without someone smiling and waving at you, and you can't help but smile and wave back. I guess it's that whole thing about cold hand and warm hearts.

Day 23 of Penny

Hehe, the last thing that made me cry? I think you'll remember from a previous post that I'm neither graceful nor beautiful. I don't know that it's crying in the classical sense, but I tear up quite regularly over smashed toes, turned ankles, minor burns, cuts, and scraps.

Well, the last thing that made me cry was smashing my pinky toe. I was getting a drink of water, Radnar was pestering me, I tried to avoid him, tripped over him any way and smacked my toe into the corner of the wall in the kitchen. This happens so often that I'm not really sure that my pinky toes have joints or toenails anymore. I have no idea how many times they have been broken, but it's been a lot. The more it happens the more it hurts, so now my eyes immediately tear up and I can barely catch my breath.

I know what some of you are thinking "Pen, have you been tested for MS?" yes, yes I have. I don't have it. I'm just incredibly clumsy. If there's coffee table, I will run into it (I don't have a coffee table). If I've got a kitchen knife in my hand and I turn to talk to you, there is a good chance I'm going to accidentally stab myself in some way. This is another reason I don't own a lot of high heels. I own a lot of shoes, but fancy shoes do not make the ranks very often. I have a pair of 5/10 trekking shoes. They are a hybrid of climbing shoes, hiking boots, and sneakers. They have a very wide foot bed and excellent traction, and when I wear them they keep me from injuring myself. I'm seriously thinking of investing in Chacos and some of those toe training shoes to try and build up the strength in my feet and ankles.

Day 22 of Penny

Some people would argue that cats are not real pets. You don't really own a cat, a cat does what it wants. This is true. If you want a low maintenance pet, that doesn't really require a lot from you, then cats are perfect.

I have two feline companions, because together they make one good pet. Radnar, the orange tabby is my favorite. I got Malcom who is his brother and litter mate, because I thought Radnar should have a buddy to play with. They have full names; Randar Vesuvius Danger-Kitty, and Malcom Murderface, Murderface, Murderface. Congratulations if you understood the pop-culture references.

Malcom is a sensitive loving soul. He is a super-mouser and prefers to spend most of his time down by the river hunting and performing black opps. He likes to make small talk and even though he is a rather large cat (12 lbs) he has a tiny little voice. Kind of like Mike Tyson. His tail looks like it belongs on a Raccoon, and he has very large green eyes. He likes to touch your face, and will try to lick your nose or clean your finger/toe nails when you are not paying attention. I love him to pieces, but he drives me nuts.

Radnar is a man of leisure. However, when you get out his favorite toy he will jump and do back flips. The little guy has hops and can clear the couch when properly motivated. His bone structure is smaller than Malcom's, yet he out weighs him by 2 lbs. He's built like a stripy brick outhouse. Rad's favorite thing to do is sit in my living room window and watch stuff. He likes to hang out in my office with me while I'm trading, and when I have guitar students over he lays on the couch and watches them play. When he is feeling frisky he runs drills to work on his Cat-Fu He also has beautiful green eyes, but closes them every time I take his picture.

They are my buddies. Raym is really only home about 10 days a month, so I spend a lot of down time in the evenings with my cats. I watch Top Gear and they run Cat-Fu drills and have MMA fights in the living room. It's rainy outside today and Mal sprained his leg, so they are shedding all over my couch. I vacuum a lot.

It's cool though, for the amount of effort I put into my cat relationship I get high returns in awesomely bad cat behavior. The run on top of the house at night. Mal broke into the house last summer and woke us up at 4am to let us know there was a hole in the window screen in our living room. Radnar has an ongoing turf war with the Yorkie next door. I'm pretty sure Malcom slaughtered an old stray cat on our lawn mafia style a couple of months ago. He came in that morning and in his tiny little monotone basically said "Um, Mom, I totally killed a guy on the front lawn. He was eating my cat food and peeing on my stuff. Um, Haters don't be playin me. Where's the cat chow?"

They both have girlfriend cats (they are fixed, so it's cool), and they invite them over sometimes. There was one meowing on the back porch last summer and Rad was like "Let'er in mom, she's with me." So I did, and they all watched a movie together while I did laundry. Mal's girlfriend looks exactly like him, only she has a white tip on the end of her tail, and I think she's a little bossy."

As you have probably seen, my cats go on road trips with me. They love to hang out with my folks, even thought they don't much care for the two hour drive to their house. I get some pretty funny looks when people see a large orange cat stretched out on the dash of my pick-up. Malcom, of course, complains the whole time and gets into things.

Bottom line. I think everybody should have a pet. I love dogs, and horses too, and someday when we move "out of town" I will have a whole menagerie. I do plan on having a "normal" family someday, and I think kids should get to grow up on a farm. I'd like to have some Watusi and Longhorn Cows and some pigs too. And Chickens, you can't not have chickens--you've seen the ones with Afros? And peacocks, and....

Day 21 of Penny

I actually think this topic is pretty funny. How did I get my scars? Well fortunately for me, none of my physical scars are tied up into anything emotionally painful. I have many talents, and I am something of a renaissance woman, but grace and beauty did not make the list. As a person, I am more of a blunt instrument. I have three major scars, and I'll share them and their stories in chronological order.

1. Birth=There is a 1/2 inch long scar above my left eyebrow. When I was born apparently I had some kind of bone grown there when I was a baby. This doesn't seem important now, but it will come into play later.

2. 12 years old=On my left shin I have a 3x1/2 inch scar about 4 inches below my knee cap. I was riding a barrel horse practicing the clover leaf pattern at 4-H. I was really pushing myself, but my horse wasn't into it. On the third barrel, she cut it too close and the lip of the barrel caught my shin and basically filleted the skin and pants right off of it. It was pretty horrible when it first happened, the whole first layer of skin was gone from my knee to just above my ankle in about a 2 inch wide strip. In the spot that is scarred, the skin and flesh were missing all the way down to the bone. It still hurts when I bump it into things--which happens a lot. However, for as nasty as the initial injury was I count myself lucky. People usually don't notice it unless I point it out.

3. 12 years old, 2 weeks later=There is a 1/2 inch pencil thin scar above my left eyebrow. I had twisted my ankle jumping on the tramp and I was on crutches. My cousins talked me into a game of softball. I tried batting with my crutch, which promptly broke, flipped around and smacked me above my left eye in the exact same spot that I already had a scar. It hurt like crazy, and acted like it would never stop bleeding. In the end it wasn't very deep and it was just a flesh wound. It sort of made the scar worse though.

4. 17 years old=There is a 1/2 inch crescent shaped scar sort of above my left boob, from where a dog bit me. I honestly don't think there is much too it, but it has gotten a lot of notice over the years. Probably more because I spent a lot of time in shop class rather than the fact that the scar is impressive. Allow me to explain. I've never been one for ultra revealing clothing, but if you've got it you should show it off a little. It's a gift from God, so enjoy it right? Anyway, I often wore little t-shirts, nothing that was like "Hey look at my rack," but cute little t-shirts. I was wearing one in shop, and my friend, Kevin, was 'a little high' and he was just staring at me like I had grown a third arm or something. I finally said "What is your deal Kevin," and he turned bright red and started giggling and stoner -slurred out "You've got a scar on your boob!" "It looks like somebody bit you or something." "It's f---ing awesome!" How do was I even to respond to that? From that day forward it kind of took on a life of it's own, separate from mine. I occasionally still catch people looking at it, and that only cracks me up.

Day 20 of Penny

Je Regrette...

I'm human, I have regrets. However, I believe that harboring regrets is a wasted exercise. Due to past mistakes and learning experiences I have the following principals or policies:

• Never miss an opportunity to keep your mouth shut
• Walk away when you can, fight fairly with when you can't
• When it's serious, absolutely no name calling
• Always pack sunscreen and chap stick
• You can survive on Marshmallow Mateys and pizza delivery, but it's not really living
• Good quality, comfortable shoes will get you pretty far in life
• There is no such thing as free services or goods--EVER
• Sugar coating yourself for others is never a good idea
• Always leave the crowd wanting more
• Pray first, and when all else fails, pray again

Day 18 & 19 of Penny

There are lots of wonderful and inspiring quotes out there to live your life by, and you could pick a different one everyday with no problem. The ones I really enjoy though are given by people I actually know, the kind of one liner that can be applied many times over and still be awesome. Sometimes they are an inside joke, and sometimes they are funny no matter who you are. I will share a few with you, enjoy.

"Actually, it's a Chevy" Given by my cousin Clinton when he was four years old, and I asked him if he rode over to our house in his dad's work truck. This one comes in handy more often than you'd think.

"...With sand" (make a pounding motion with your fist). JD Flitner, not sure when, not sure why. We use it in conjunction with anything that sucks. There is a bit more to it, it's pretty much a mono-log, but if you were going to use it correctly and discretely you would say something like "The transfer case went bad on my pick-up. Six States charged me $2200 with sand to fix it."

"Grandma, did you cut that with a Sawzall? Lon Pritchard, during one of grandma's many remodeling projects gone awry. It can be used whenever someone has done a sub-par job. What's funny is that it has caught on in the Bridger Valley, and I heard someone unrelated to me or the incident say it the other day. Solid Gold.

"And then somebody died or something" Jaycee Felkins age 4, as part of a story about her day at the dinner table. Now whenever someone in my family is telling a story and we realize it is boring to everyone around us we will add "And then somebody died or something."

I think the best one comes from an old cowboy I know, Marty Watkins. The roof of his barn had just blown off, and it was no surprise to anyone. It had been going to happen for decades, and Marty is the kind of guy who doesn't fix something until it's broke, and doesn't get very excited about it when it does break. He just looks around and says "Well, I guess we'll have to do like the Indians did...without."

On a side note, I do have a picture of me from 10 years ago, and I do want to share it. I am having struggles with my scanner, so it will be at a later date. I'll probably add all of the pictures that I am supposed to share in an album of sorts at the end of this exercise.

Day 17 of Penny

When I feel sad, this is my go to show on YouTube. Pete & Pete was not the most popular show of all time, but it was cool. Not only that, but my brother was a little bit like Little Pete. It was so indie and offbeat, how could you not like it? Well, I suppose there were lots of people who didn't like it. I still maintain that this is the most genius programing available.

Day 16 of Penny

I have been dreading and anticipating this for 16 Days; and even though this is a little early I have the strength right now and I think I can do this without going berserk. A letter to someone who hurt me recently. I haven't allowed anyone to hurt me in a very, very long time. I might get upset, and angry, but it passes quickly with no real personal damage. I warn you this is going to get very ugly and very personal. I feel like I need to do it to get over it, and I think it might help several of my readers too. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, I'm not going to be censoring anything.

Dear Grandma Pat,

I don't know if I should thank you or kill you with words. I can, you know, kill someone with words. You taught me how. My earliest memory of you is you telling me you would throw me out the window of the truck because I was crying. I know I was to young to understand what was going on, I don't know why I was crying before you started to say this, but I know why I was crying afterwards. You bitch! I could not have been more than 3 or 4. Who says that shit to a little kid? You were mean enough that I believed you, I remember that.

I should also point out that there were not many permanent things in my life. Because my mom cared enough about me to send me to church, I was being taught that family was the most important thing a person can have. For the most part, my family is amazing, I have a huge network of people who are very dear to my heart. So, because I cared about you because you were my family, I allowed myself to care what you thought. You used to pit me against my cousins and other family members. So and so is really good at this, they are amazing (I refuse to use their names, because you were manipulating them too), but you never had any praise for me. I did really well in school because I liked it. We're talking straight A's here. You never noticed. I was weak and stupid and you never missed a chance to let me know this.

I got in my first "girl fight" around 3rd or 4th grade, I don't really remember much about it, but I remember the girl ended up changing schools, and that I didn't get caught. Things snow balled after that. I got meaner and meaner, and I could manipulate other students, teachers, and kids in my neighborhood pretty well. They put me in the Gifted Class at school because I don't think they really knew what to do with me otherwise. By the time I moved to Wyoming, I had a pretty nasty-sweet little routine. You dropped of the face of the planet doing God-Knows-What, and I entered a period of my life where I was running the show and things didn't seem too bad. You occasionally got your digs in, and had succeeded in alienating me from all of my Pritchard family. You taught me not to care about people or what they thought about me.

Then came Grandpa's Cancer. This taught me what hell is going to be like. It felt like you honestly enjoyed this. You got to lord information over all of us, and used it like sparks in an already too dry forest. My dad and his brother and sister where obviously very distraught and emotionally spent. You worked this as often as you could to start battles over who cared the most, and who should inherit what, and to drive Aunt Sis even further away and into addiction. The whole time Grandpa was on oxygen because he was dying of lung cancer, you smoked. Hell, I think you smoked more because you though it might kill him more quickly, or more painfully, or who freaking knows what goes on in your head. When it was finally over, I thought maybe the hold you had on us finally broke. That maybe my dad would just walk away from the perpetual train wreck of his family and we could move on. We did for a while.

I'll never forget the day I learned you would be moving to Fort Bridger. I was stupid and young enough to think that I could have a relationship with you. I was going to church and trying to be a better person. I knew I needed to stop bullying and manipulating people around me. I had learned that general nastiness and a mean right hook were not solving any of my problems. It only took you a couple weeks to prove me wrong. You somehow insinuated yourself into my social scene. You were manipulating people I knew--let's not kid ourselves, you were buying beer and Lord knows what else for my buddies. I didn't realize how out of hand this got until one of my friends let me know that you were trying to bribe him to go out with me. I laughed it off, and split the cash with him.

I had a pretty nasty little spiral and things got all jagged and rough edged for a while. You lost control though, shortly after this you had your first heart attack. It was a little too late in coming for me. I let you screw with my mind again, and I had cut off ties with all my normal nice friends, broke up with the incredibly nice guy I was dating by screaming at him that he "Was the most boring pain in the ass I'd ever met!" in the hallway just before 3 hour. I'll never forget how sad he looked just before 4th hour when he asked me if we were still going out and I laughed in his face and said "What do you think dumbass?" I then went on an attention getting spree that really climaxed my Senior Year of high school. I treated people terribly, I used and hurt some of my very best friends, learned to abuse alcohol and others, and I finally figured out how to get to you. I cut you and The Family out of my life. My relationship with my dad is strained and awkward to this day.

After bottoming out one night, I sort of cleaned up a little when I moved away from home. I got married, to a nice guy, by accident (I won't get into the details or reasoning of this, but I think it may be the only thing that saves me). I ignored you, and was able to cut you almost completely out of my life until you had the courtesy of getting cancer yourself. I knew you were going to die. I was even a little bit giddy thinking about it. For as long as I could remember I would look in the mirror at my face searching for anything that might resemble you; hoping to God I wouldn't find anything, and loathing anything I thought did. Finally you were going to be gone, and I was going to be free.

I got my brother out of school, and drove down to Sanpete to see you one last time. I don't know what I thought I'd get from that. You were completely high, and drinking a beer in your underware when we showed up. Aunt Sis greeted us at the door (which was the most shocking thing that happened that day). She promptly disappeared, which is like a super power she has developed over the years. We chit chatted, you couldn't really remember who Seth was, and then you passed out and we left. Two weeks later you did go ahead and die.

I thought maybe then I'd get my shit together and put the past behind me. After all you taught me that love was a trap, and anyone who knew you cared about them could use that against you. It wasn't working, and I was loosing my grip on things. Then for reasons known only to God and Aunt Sis, she turned up at my folks house and declared she was ready to get clean. Damned if she didn't do it too.

I learned a lot about mental illness and addiction. I learned we have a long and sordid history of Bi-Polar Disorder, Addiction, and Manic Depression; at least on your side of the family. Alcoholism is strong on both sides. This was maybe the most freeing thing that ever happened to me. I learned that a lot of the shit you put us through over the years was not even really under you control. Sure, you might have been eccentric and mean in your own right, but a lot of it was the mental illness. You were so far gone, and for so long that you were too crazy to know right from wrong. I learned how to recognize what was going on with myself and how to control it a little.

I was at a crossroads in a lot of ways as this point. I realized that I had nothing and no one to get back at for all the angry wasted years. For one, you were dead. For another thing, I could not reconcile punishing someone who was not in control of themselves. Because of my beliefs about life after death, and what happens in the time in between that, I believe things have probably changed dramatically for you. I pray you are making the most of it, pretty often actually.

I've taken control of who I am because of this. I have tried to right a lot of the wrongs I have committed over the years. I quit blaming outside forces for the way I feel. I've gotten my faith back. Most of all, I've started caring about others and letting them into my life with no strings attached. Because of that I forgive you. Completely. I have forgiven all the others who were manipulated by you that have hurt me. I'm thankful that in a way you gave me a thick skin, and the ability to not be hurt (or shocked) by people and the things they do.

Formally, and forever I forgive you. You can't and won't hurt me or us anymore. After this purge, I hope I think about it even less. Someday I hope to forget. My kids will never know about any of the ugliness. I'm not passing it on. I will teach them what I know about what I call "Keeping Your Head Clean," and that getting treated for mental issues is not embarrassing in anyway.

With Love,

Penny