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