It's Not Denial. Really.

Erika, I thought your question deserved a new entry.

Your question, or rather comment was that the cancer doesn't seem to bother me. The answer is, you're right. I'll get to why in a second.

SebMarley...here's the answer to yours. When they do the first pap in your pregnancy, they scrape your cervix to check for abnormal cells. With my other two boys pregnancies, I had abnormal cells with them too. They called it severe dysplasia, which is the last stage before it actually turns into cancer. They biopsied the hell out of the cervix in my previous pregnancies. Anyways, apparently, with all the other problems I have with having children, my body also produces chemicals that turn my cervix into a playground for cancerous cells during pregnancy. At the first pap in my last pregnancy, Dr. V. discovered 2 tumors which came back from the lab as being cancer.

As far as symptoms go, I don't really know. I mean, I was puking my guts out on a constant, continuous basis, I was tired, I was moody, and I was crampy. But...those are all symptoms of pregnancy itself. So, if there were any other symptoms, I either a) didn't realize it, or b) thought it was just another side effect of manufacturing a human within your body.

I don't know about whether it's linked to the ovarian cyst problems or not. Though, I should note that my mom had what you have too. She ended up doing a hysterectomy too. I can't really remember what all problems she had with it, but I do know that irregular cycle was one of them. I remember her bitching a lot about the cramps. Apparently, when those little cysts burst, it can cause some hella pain.

As for why all of this doesn't really bother me...I'll tell you it did. I came home from those Dr. appts bawling my little head off. I thought it was the end of the world. I mean, I have problems enough with delivering children (I have a bi-cornuate uterus, which is heart shaped and only provides about half of the space of a normal uterus in which to grow babies), I figured that it was a pretty cruel deal to inflict yet another degree of difficulty to my last pregnancy. BUT...

It's going away. I won't have to worry about it anymore. I will go through the initial pain of surgery in December, and then, I will never, ever have to deal with it again. Since I know it's going away, I figure that the energy that I could use to get all freaked out by that would be better served in my work.

So, most of the time, I don't even think about it.

sdk

5 Posts in 1 Day.

I should get like, a medal or something. Or, it could be that I'm boring the hell out of you, in which case...you know where that little red X is...right? Just making sure.

Jas is still helping my brother's girlfriend move, so he's not home yet. Helping my brother do what, I'm not sure. If I had to bet, I would probably say that he's carrying the pitcher back to the table so Cj won't spill it. He's a sweetie like that.

So, I'm home, kids are in bed...really shouuuuuuld be working on the website, but I'm just not swimming in inspiration tonight for things that matter, so I'll need to be forcing myself back on that bandwagon in the morning.

Once again, downtown Jackson is having a big to-do downtown of which I had no clue. I'm sitting here and all of a sudden it sounds like a nuclear war going down. Fireworks. Again, kids are in bed, so they'll be seeing no cool stuff tonight. How am I supposed to be the cool parent and take them to this stuff if I have no clue it's happening?

I have cramps. And some decent major bloating. When I got pregnant with Logan they diagnosed me as having cervical cancer. Which...doesn't really hurt, it's just a pain in the ass to know it's there. I'm having surgery in December. When he was born, (emergency c/section), the doc also found 8 fibroids in my uterus. That'll be on it's way out in December too. And you know, I'm thinking that this is a good thing. I'm not having any more kids, so...why not? A total hysterectomy. Now the next question is...to go with hormone replacement therapy or to wait it out and see if I really DO grow chest hair? I'm waiting until December because we're so busy during the summer. Usually after the snow flies, people chill the hell out and you don't have as many murders and abductions. Not that it's limited to summer...it's just something about the warm weather that cranks peoples emotions up.

Anyways...the cramps. They seem to be getting worse now since I had the tubal ligation. Don't get me wrong...I've never been a nice person while PMSing. But now I think it's a little worse physically. I'm not as emotionally hellbent for election to knock someone's block off, but the pain makes me feel like it anyway.

Sadistic Things That Entertain Me

Oh there's such a big list, where-oh-where do I begin?

We can start with my grandmother's inability to function any computer system that was produced after 1983. I enjoy this because of her inability, she thinks me useful. I find that Grandma and I...we really don't have much in common anymore. Oh, I'm always willing to listen to how her wataerobics class went, it's not that. But, as far as being able to be out and helping her with the antique shop, I don't have as much time as I once did now, and unless she needs something, we don't talk that much anymore. Everytimes she sees a news article or one of the news stations run a story on something I've done, she gets all excited and calls all of her friends. This is cool...but how do you talk crime and punishment with someone who genuinely believes that we should still "just hang those sumbitches"? So, it is for this reason that I'm glad that Grandma wants to run an e-commerce site. It makes me useful to her, makes me feel needed, and keeps up that bond that we share.

My next sadistic pleasure is that I so enjoy doing evil things to the neighbor cat. It's a big, gray massive animal, that derives it's own pleasure from torturing Lily, who stays in our yard, doesn't get into any trouble, and rarely leaves the porch. Yesterday, I caught the little bastard trapping her in a corner. It's not like he's quiet about it either. He's all "Mmrrrrooooooooow" as he's doing it. So, I got the biggest pan I could find (you know the ones you boil corn on the cob in?) and I filled it all the way up. Then, I snuck out the back door, as quietly as my little hobble would allow. I got right behind him, all stealthy like, and then I nailed his little ass. He's been back twice more for the same treatment...

Those will have to do for tonight. I'm going to do what all bad parents do...I'm going to attempt to cut my 6 year old's hair...myself. With Scissors. Heh heh heh....

sdk

Angry Bruising.

This Little Piggy Outta Be On Its Way To The Morgue

Edited to add:

This is also doubling as my contribution to HNT. For those needing an explanation of what HNT is...click here!

Yeah, I know I'm a day late and a dollar short...but I just learned of the site today.

I am a Bad, Bad, Dog.

Meet Murphy. Murphy learned how to open the back door today at the new house. Murphy was gone for a good hour, stopping traffic, drinking out of the neighbor's swimming pool, brutalizing the neighbor cat...

I saw her outside the back door about a half hour after she left. So, I hobbled my ass out there to see if I could coax her inside. Instead, she booked across the street. I cornered her in the neighbor's yard there. She got juuuust close enough for me to put my hand on her head, then bolted. With her, she took almost the entire nail of my right middle finger.

Then, about 20 minutes ago, she comes sauntering in the back door. She knew she was in trouble. She knew. You could tell by the hanging head, and non-wagging tail.

She is currently laying right here next to me. She is not allowed to MOVE without my say so. The only thing that stands between her and my hand on her ass right now is her ability to stay.

The picture above...is her. About 5 minutes after she came in. She knows she's in deep shit. Look at those eyes.

My Bitch. (possessive.)

Good Morning. I'm awake. I'm truly enjoying these past two weeks at home. They are coming to a close (I go back to the office Monday), so I better say I am enjoying them while they are technically still mine to enjoy.

When you ask someone to do something for you, and they reply with "What do I look like, your bitch?" What would happen if you replied "Well...as a matter of fact, yeah. You do sort of look like my bitch. After you're finished with (said endeavor), there are a few more assignments I need you to do before you run my bath." What would happen?

Because, see...I think I'm in need of a bitch. I have had the last two weeks "off". Yet, my house still isn't completely unpacked, I have a web site 1/2 ready to go live, I have several searches to plan, I have a buttload of marketing to do, we're opening a new office in another state, and I have kids.

A bitch would come in quite handy, I would think. And if I'm picking bitches with utilizable skills, I would like one who has some home decor sense. If my bitch could just come decorate my house with all the crap I've got laying around in boxes...maybe hang some curtains...that would make all the other jobs just a little more comfortable.

So, I'm taking applications. Hell, I'll even be nice and not CALL you my bitch. I'll call you my "Interior Designer".

Disclaimer: My bitch is NOT to be confused with my volunteers. Volunteers selflessly devote their time to the missing. I'm one of those too. My Volunteers are the heart and soul of my org. What I'm looking for is a bitch for ME.

30 Best Country Songs.

I'm a huge fan of downloading (read: STEALING) music. Here's some you should get if you share that same interest...

SDK’s List of the Top 30 Best Country Songs

30. I’m Gonna Hire A Wino (To Decorate Our Home) – David Frizzell
29. Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue – Crystal Gayle
28. Elvira – Oakridge Boys
27. Daddy’s Hands – Holly Dunn
26. Drift Off To Dream – Travis Tritt
25. Honey Won’t You Open That Door – Ricky Skaggs
24. I Was Country, When Country Wasn’t Cool – Barbara Mandrell
23. Islands In The Stream – Kenny Rogers and Dolly Pardon
22. You Look So Good In Love – George Strait
21. 80’s Ladies – KT Oslin
20. Good Hearted Woman – Waylon Jennings
19. Roll On (Eighteen Wheeler) – Alabama
18. I Don’t Wanna Play House – Tammy Wynette
17. Paint Me A Birmingham – Tracy Lawrence
16. He Stopped Loving Her Today – George Jones
15. A Country Boy Can Survive – Hank Williams Jr.
14. The Last One To Know – Reba McEntire
13. I Told You So – Randy Travis
12. Could I Have This Dance – Anne Murray
11. Talking In Your Sleep – Crystal Gayle
10. Help Me Hold On – Travis Tritt
9. Do Ya – KT Oslin
8. Family Tradition – Hank Williams Jr.
7. Go Rest High On That Mountain – Vince Gill
6. Don’t Take It Away – Conway Twitty
5. The Song Remembers When – Trisha Yearwood
4. All That Glitters Isn’t Gold – Ricky Skaggs
3. I Don’t Love You Anymore – Travis Tritt
2. Seven Spanish Angels – Willie Nelson and Ray Charles
1. If You Came Back From Heaven – Lorrie Morgan

What do YOU want to read about?

Instead of giving you whatever first pops into my head each day, I figured I'd give you a list to work from. And, I think maybe I'll be doing this each day from now on. This isn't to say that I won't ALSO write about other stuff, but this gives you guys something to pick from. Mmmk?

Choices For my Next Post:

1.) My landlord, and his strangeness.
2.) Why I hate photo-editing software.
3.) Me bitching incessantly about how broke we are.
4.) A Strange Search and Rescue Story.
5.) Fun (read: sadistic) things that entertain me.

Comment on your choice, and I'll write about that on my next post.

sdk

Hagrid.

Because I'm feeling ambitious today, I thought I'd catch you up on the newest member of the sdk clan.

I have been wanting a kitten for a while, but Jas has said no, we had a baby (which appeased me for a while LOL) and then the move and all of that...so logically, we didn't get a kitten.

Anywho, on Saturday, there's a knock at the door. I answer it and there stands a man, holding this adorable little kitty who doesn't look like he's even old enough to be away from his mommy. He asks if the kitty is ours. I say it is not. He says that kitty doesn't have a home, and that no one is feeding him, and that he's routinely getting his little furry ass kicked by the other neighborhood kitties. I say "Give him to me. I'll take care of him." Jas is NOT happy about this decision.

So, in comes kitty. Jas says that if kitty stays, then Jas gets to name him. Fine...I can live with that. So, Jas names him Hagrid. This is an awful big name for such a little creature. Whatever, I now have the entertainment value that only a kitten can provide.

Murphy, our lab is VERY excited to have a playmate. Lily, our 11 year old tiger cat just doesn't have the oomph she once had. The only type of entertainment she provides is the haughty, uninterested looks that she gives Murph when she tries to play with her.

Hagrid lets Murphy chew on him, plays back and everything. And, he isn't a pussy about it. He doesn't come running to mommy everytime Murphy bites too hard. As a matter of fact, usually, it is Hagrid that's instigating the "play" sessions.

sdk

The A-Team

I don't have anything really good to add today, so I'll just wing it.

We can start with the fact that there are definite advantages to having a broken foot. One of those advantages is that I haven't cooked dinner for neither of the last two days. This is good stuff. Jas (husband) has done it. Night one, we had a bad-ass Roast Beast (we call it that because my 6 year old will only eat things with quirky names. Hamburger, hot dog...that sort of normal crap won't cut it). Night two, it wasn't spectacular, but he made sandwiches and had chips and fruit as the sidedishes. I think we're having marinated ribs tonight. I could definitely get used to this.

Next, Jas has taken to calling the 6 year old "Wierd Al". His name is Alex, so it sorta works. But the reason behind this is that here we are scaring the shit out of the end of July, and "Wierd Al" has become quite insistent that he must wear his snow boots. With shorts. I wish I could say this is a home practice, but he threw a monumental fit yesterday as we were leaving for Wal-Mart (to go get my crutches) because he wanted to wear them.

So, please imagine this for me in your head. I want you to get the full effect so that you can feel my pain. Mommy, Daddy (carrying the car seat with Logan in it), Alex and Sam all walk in to Wal-Mart. See the Slo-Mo version in your head...like we're a crime fighting family and it deserves a theme song. (If you want to imagine the A-Team theme song, I think that might work.) You pan the characters and stop on the child wearing a wife-beater, khaki shorts, a U of M baseball cap and SNOW BOOTS. Big, ugly, fairly worn out, definitely dirty snow boots that I would call mid-calf length.

But would I tell him that he can't wear them? Nope. I wouldn't jeopardize the possibility of him thinking for himself in no way shape or form. Cause, I'm a good mommy like that.

Jas on the other hand is attempting to make him feel quite akward about this. By calling him Wierd Al, he thinks that Alex is going to miraculously see the error of his stylish ways and choose to wear his Nike's. That AIN'T gonna happen. We went through this with my little brother and his cowboy boots and superman cape (at the same time), and we'll go through something similar with Sam when he gets to age 6.

I say let us thank God that it's not school season.

Doc Called.

The ER Doctor called today from Chelsea hospital. This guy was different from the one I had yesterday. Apparently, the radiologist was already gone yesterday, so the doctor I had yesterday is the one who read my x-ray.
Apparently, I also have a break in the 1st metatarsal that's further back towards my ankle. (Which would account for why it hurts so bad all the way back to my ankle). He said he wanted to cast my foot, but since the swelling is still pretty rough, that he would like me to come in tomorrow to do that. (Heh heh...riiiiiight. I'll be flying RIGHT in for that.)

I'm not allowed to even try to put any pressure on it for at least 4 weeks. What I think I'm going to do is to just keep it all wrapped up in this nifty little ace bandage they have on it, keep my toe "buddied" to the other and just use the crutches he called in a script on today. This way, when I go out this weekend for the search, I can still get around alright, but I'm not carrying around a huge cast that goes all the way up to my damn knee.

Who knew. You stub your toe, and just like that, you're whole life is screwed up for 4-6 weeks.

Special.

sdk

How?

I have a dumb question, one which, with my current work load, I am just plain out too busy and too lazy to look up.

Does anyone know how to imprint your logo in the form of a watermark on a photo? I have two programs with which I should be able to do this, and instructions for either program would be sweet. The two programs I have are Photoshop Elements 3 and Paint Shop Pro 9.

(Feel sorry for me and do my work for me because I broke my foot.)

sdk

What does the inside of the apt. look like, you ask...

Yes, that's Spongebob, and logically, that means, yes...they have kids. This is the dining room. YUMMY.

Makes you hungry...don't it?

I threw up a little in my mouth...

Surly Neighbor Guy's Destruction

I promised that I'd put these pictures up like a week ago. So, without further ado...

Outside Window 1

Outside Window 2

Dining room window from inside.

My Pleasant Afternoon...

My landlord shows up today to ask me if Surly Neighbor Guy is still here or not. So, I go out to talk to him, and I'm walking around talking to him...barefoot.

Interestingly enough, we got to go into the other apartment and WHOEEE. What a mess. Those people are NASTY. How else can you explain mold and such growing on a toilet and in the fridge? They've only been gone a week. The conditions had to have been good for the fungus before the week began for it to be so...thick now. Right? Ewww. And the glass...Oh the glass. There's freakin' glass everywhere. In and out, all over.

Anyways, Dave, our Landlord wanted to call the police so that we could "officially" call it abandoned so that we can haul the nasty crap out to the curb, clean the place up and get it re-rented. (I've been called on to help with all of this, since I have the ability to run criminal background checks on the tenants, and therefore, without being TOO choosy (if you know what I mean) I get to pick my own neighbors. This is a good deal.

So, anywho, I am trying to hurry and go get my phone for him to use and the camera so we can take pictures of the damage (WAAAAY more than just windows here) and as I'm running up the concrete stairs to the back door WHAAAAAAM! I slam my big toe on my left foot into that concrete.

I pretty much immediately knew it was broken. It wasn't that it swelled the size of a medium sized apple immediately, or even the pale purple color that it took on in a matter of seconds that told me it was broken. It was the excrutiating pain radiating from it, which lasted for about 10 minutes until the numbness set in that suggested the broken-ness.

So, I called the Jackson ER and asked how long the wait would be. They said that the person who's been in the waiting room the longest so far was 4 and a half hours. I said "Screw that." and hung up. The other option is Chelsea, which is a nicer hospital, with a nicer staff, with less hoops to jump through for actual care...sure enough, when I called them, they said they could get me right in, no problem.

So, I sat here waiting for my husband to get the kids around (which is why I had time to tell you I broke my foot) and then, off we went.

I have three breaks and a ginormous (well, I think it's ginormous...) piece of bone floating, I tore the tendon and the SOB hurts. Let's see if I can somewhat explain this...

Look at your nekkid (heh) left foot. See your big toe. There is three joints in each metatarsal...I have a big ole bone fragment floating (See my professional quality diagram hehe...), then I have two breaks below that below that joint.

If I can't walk on it in 6 days, we have to go through all of this all over again because they haven't technically DONE anything to it, unless you call taping it to your "buddy toe" a medical practice. Anyways, there's a chance that it's going to come apart, and apparently, while they can't do anything to prevent that (without casting my whole foot) it could pose a problem if that happens. The bone is broken all the way through in 2 places, yet rests right where it is supposed to be.

Did I mention that it hurts? It's a TOE for crying out loud. I had an emergency c/section and a spinal headache in March. You'd think a broken toe would be no biggie. It's a biggie.

sdk

Broke My Foot.

On the way to the hospital...update when I get back. Damnit. I have a search this weekend.

sdk

Working my Little Tushy Off...

Sorry about the lag in posts. I'm working my little tushy off on the Org's new website.
Since I'm by no stretch of the imagination am I a designer, nor do I want to be...so I bought a web template from FP World. Normally I wouldn't even consider doing a shameless plug, but, if y'all want a good looking, professional website, and you lack in the skills to accomplish such a thing...get ahold of Barb at FP World. She designs templates, and she'll even customize it for you so that the colors match your logo or whatever.

I chose this one. When I'm done filling it all up (all 300 pages of the design) I'll post a link to the new site so that you can see it. She customized it to match my logo, did a sweet collage of some of my missing persons cases, and it's just...sweet.

I know NOTHING about FrontPage 2003. I had some initial head banging against the brick wall exercises as I began the project, but once you get the hang of it, it's not bad at all.

I may be back yet today to update y'all on my progress. In the meantime though...check out some of those templates. If you have questions about how they work or anything, let me know. Screw doing all the work myself...coming up with 300 pages worth of content is bad enough...let someone else come up with the design and layouts!!!

sdk

Spider Fear Factor.

Erika, thank you for subtly bringing it to my attention that I need to chill the hell out.

I took your advice, scarfed down 6 Lindor Truffles, and am feeling much better now.

Lily, my putty-tat has come to seek forgiveness for her attrocious behavior this morning. (In the last post, you'll see she hawked up a hairball in the doorway to the bathroom for Mommy to step in before she even got a cup of coffee...). She's currently draped over my shoulders doing that little paw stretch thingy with her paws, taking intermittent intervals to bathe herself on me. She's sorry. She said so.

So, when I took a shower tonight (I take them at night so as to not bring sweat and environmental yuckies into my egyptian cotton sheets...) I met a roommate. It's an itsy-bitsy spider, which to me looks like your average garden variety. Can't be any bigger than the ball part of a ball point pen. He looked like a "Jeff" to me. So, that's what we'll be calling him.

Anyways, I'm in there doing the whole Neutrogena facial wash deal (before I wash my hair...can't be getting that crap in clean hair) and I rinse my face off and movement happens to catch my eye. So, I glance up and there's Jeff building himself a web. (Yeah, yeah. I know that it's usually GIRL spiders that do the web weaving, it's my blog...work with me here. There's a reason I do search and rescue and am not an insectologist or whatever the hell they're called.)

So, like the total moron that I am, I start talking to him. "Hey buddy. As long as you stay up there, you and I will get along fine and you get to live. Come down past the top of the shower curtain, and it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Jeff replies "I'M A SPIDER, YOU MORON, I CAN'T TALK!". Point taken.

So, he busies himself going back and forth between the light fixture and the shower curtain. At this point, I'm feeling a little bad for him because after I wash my hair, shave my legs etc, I'm outta there, and will need to push the curtain aside to exit. This of course will destroy that 15 minutes of his hard work.

Jeff squashes my regrets about wrecking his art when he shoots a spiderweb out of his butt and drops down for a better look. He is level with my eyes at this point. I say "Jeff, honey...you're going to need to get your 8 legged little ass back up where you belong, or your going for a ride down the water slide."

And like he completely understands, up he goes.

This goes on for a good 10 minutes. Of which, I am accomplishing absolutely nothing in the shower. Finally, I wash my hair so that I don't run out of hot water, and because I need to keep an eye on Jeff (in the every day world, Jeff would have been paste on the bottom of my shoe), I don't want to close my eyes to wash them.

Now, I have Aveda stinging my eyes. I call Jeff a few names that my children aren't allowed to say, warn him to stay where he belongs, and I then rinse my eyes out. Conditioner: Apply, Bitch at Jeff to stay put, still keep my eyes open anyway, rinse, rinse out eyes.

Evidently, if this were Fear Factor, Jeff and I would have tied. I didn't want to eat him or anything...(you name it, you better not eat it. That's just mean.) but normally, those little suckers freak me out. From his perspective, I'm gigantasaur. Fear was not a factor for either of us!

sdk


PS. Well shit. After looking for a picture of him to share with you, I'm going to have to go find his little ass and kill him. He's a brown recluse. I hadn't seen one before, but I'd heard the stories. He's just a baby. If I don't, my luck would be that he'd return the favor by being fruitful and reproducing a thousand more and then one of his little bastard children would bite one of my boys. Then, I'd have to launch a massive war and bomb the entire house. That'd be a pain in the arse.

Irritation at it's Finest.

Things That Pissed Me Off Today

1.)The Post Office
2.)My Sister
3.)My Neice
4.)The Unemployment Office
5.)The DoorMan With The Little Magnetic Wand At The Courthouse
6.)My Step-Mom
7.)My Cat
8.)My Dog
9.)My Phone
10.)My Husband

1.) The Post Office. BASTARDS. So we moved this last weekend, right? Well, I decided not to forward my mail just yet so that I could pick up the two checks I had coming in the mail this week. Well, the Carrier took it upon himself to put a little note on the door at my old place to not deliver any mail there. So, when I went to go pick up the mail Monday, there of course was none.

So, same day, I send my husband over to the post office to figure out what the hell is going on. They tell him that there is no way that they can even hold the mail, that there has to be a forward for us to receive it. He comes home to tell me this. I said "Bullshit." And went down there myself. I started the conversation with a balding pissy man in his early 40's, whom apparently hasn't been laid in a VERY long time. You can just tell by his level of frustration with life. He's nearly jumping up and down with each sylable. He tells me "Sorry Maam', wish I could help you, but there's no need to get all cranky with me."

I hadn't even raised my voice yet. There was no need for his damn frustration with me. I wasn't cranky...yet. That little sentence, however MADE me cranky. So I said "Get me your supervisor, NOW." (I only raised my voice on the NOW part.)

Supervisor comes out, sweet as pie, calls the mail center and asks the gal who runs that to pretty please hold anything that looks like a check for me this week and to call me if they come so we can come pick them up. (I love Marla. I love Betty too, the one who's holding it.) So, basically, they agreed to hold it Wednesday, Thursday and Friday for me.

Fast forward to today. I send the hubster up there to find out if it's there. Same balding pissy man says "Yeah Man, I thought we had this same conversation earlier this week..." Hubby says to him "My wife said if you said anything like that to remind you of her wrath and that she'd likely be up here to show it to you if you don't figure out how to get us our mail today." He wouldn't help. And, the supervisor was out today. (Go figure.)

So, I decide to get creative and to do some research into finding the unlisted number of the actual mail center. I did (my detective skills hard at work here...) and low and behold, Betty, the one that Marla actually talked to over there on Monday held the check for me and now Hubby is enroute to pick that sucker up. HALLELUJA. I freakin HATE being broke.

2.) My Sister. Since we started the organization almost 3 years ago, my sister has done exactly NOTHING to help. Nothing. My dad pays the month to month bills when donations don't, my step-mom handles the books, and I handle the volunteers, the cases, the website, and well...everyhitng else.

SO, my silly broad of a sister is under the deranged delusion that at some given point, she is going to receive a salary. For what? Yeah, that's what I'm wondering too. She doesn't help, she won't help, and even if she could help, I wouldn't WANT her help. She's abrasive, she's not the sort of person I'd want clients to come into contact with, and she doesn't know the first thing about computers or missing persons.

Today, for the 897th time, she says "Man, I hope you get that salary grant in September. I could really use the money." I don't think she's understanding that there is no chance in hell that she will ever be one of my employees. It's NOT going to happen. She's just going to have to work to better herself like the rest of the world and stop expecting everyone else to make things happen for her. My daddy agrees. THANK GOD.

3.) My Neice. Said Sister's Daughter. She's nearly as irritating as my sister. She let us use the truck to move with, right? When we got it, it had a quarter tank of gas. The deal was, if we borrowed it, we'd replace the gas we used. No big deal, right?

We put 10 bucks in it on Sunday. Then, I told her that when we got paid this week, we'd give her some money for helping us. (I was thinking 20 bucks.)

Today, she has her mom call me to ask me where her "Fucken'" money was. I told her mom that her "fucken' money" was put back into the gas tank like I said it would be, that I hadn't received our check yet (this was several hours ago), and that I don't OWE my neice shit, that I said I'd give it to her for helping us, but it wasn't a due invoice or anything, so she needs to quit.

This pisses me off for 2 reasons. The first is, that little girl (little meaning 19 years old) owes me 900 bucks. If she wants to get shitty with me over 20 bucks and 4 days, I can get shitty with her over 900 bucks and 11 months. The second is, I've never even mentioned the money she owes me because I know she doesn't have it. She'll get it back to me when she does. Plain and simple.

I'm seriously considering not giving it to her at all now.

4.) The Unemployment Office pissed me off because they wouldn't change our address over the phone when Hubby called them on Tuesday (God Forbid...) so that we could just get the damn check in our mailbox today. Yet, when we called today to find out how long it would take to reissue it if they received it back from the post office, they changed it over the phone with no problem. AssMonkeys.

5.)I had to go drop off a witness statement at the courthouse today. Little Wand man at the door touched my ass. On purpose. He turned and grinned at his rent-a-cop cohart right after he did it.

6.) My step-mom. She loaned us 500 buck for the move. She knew damn skippy that I wouldn't have it back to her for 2 weeks. I told her that, she said "I understand." Yet, this morning, right before she and my daddy leave for vacation (at 5am, mind you) she calls not me, no-no...she calls the same sister I've been bitching about for the last 15 paragraphs and tells HER to collect it from me while they're on vacation and to put it in her checking account.

#1, I'm not giving my sister SHIT.
#2, It's none of my sister's business that we borrowed it in the first place.
#3, It's not DUE for another 2 weeks!!!

7.)My Cat. Lily. She hawked up a hairball in the doorway to the upstairs bathroom this morning. I got to step in it. Before I had any coffee in my system. Then, instead of facing me over her little indiscretion, she hid in the basement. Bitch.

8.) My Dog, Murphy. We've been here for 4 days. I hadn't had the opportunity to really clean yet, so this morning I did. I swept up 4 dustpans full of dog hair. Full dustpans. I just brushed her last night!!!

9.) My phone. I bought a new web template for the org this week. I was talking to the designer about it...the freakin' phone went dead.

10.) My husband. He's pissy because I am.

Settling in.

So, we're in the process of settling in to the house. Good news! The rest of the neighbors are normal. Everyone else on this block is normal. Two families even brought us cookies. I wasn't aware that was etiquette anymore. In my old neighborhood (where we spent a grueling year) if you took cookies to someone's house, you'd likely get handcuffed and searched...surely you're scouting the place out.

Surly Inmate Guy is moving out. Not by choice, but he's moving out. Apparently law around here states that if you cause excess damage to a dwelling place owned by another human being, that human being has just cause to expedite the eviction process. That's happening now.

I'm a little concerned about the fate of Surly Inmate Guy's Girlfriend though. I haven't heard a peep from her since she bared her tooth at me on Sunday. I heard it through the grapevine that he threatened to kill her the same day in front of several people. Did I mention that she's between 4-5 months pregnant? How's that for sweetening the pot? It's only a matter of time before a missing person's report is filed on her. And, see...

Here's where all that preventative education I've been preaching to parents and teachers and school kids for the last several years normally would come in. But, let's be honest here. Blatant, even. If this Broad had any intention of giving a shit about herself or that baby she's carrying, she would have left him after Domestic Abuse First Offense. Possibly even on the Second Offense. But, since he got out of prison in September of 04 for his Third Offense, and they are living together again, she's knocked up (again), I'm just going to go out on a limb and suggest that she's probably not interested in self preservation. Call me crazy.

For those asking why I moved from one hood to another hood...really, LOL we didn't. This is a much better neighborhood. Much better. It's just Surly Inmate Guy brings down the value of the neighborhood. Since he's going away (very soon) real estate prices will rise back to normal...

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PS...
I'll go out in a little bit and take some pictures of the windows. I know you'll be at least as impressed as I am.

I hate moving.

This is NOT us.









I hate moving. In every sense of the word. But, thankfully, we've moved out of the african-american 'hood, where they use guns (without the slightest apprehension). Instead, now we live in what I think I'll be calling the Honky-Hood.

This Guy (pay particular attention to the list of tattoo's on the rap sheet) is my new neighbor, and BOY do I wish I were kidding. So...we moved in on Saturday (or at least that's the first night we spent here). On Sunday morning, I am outside picking up an assload of glass that wasn't here when we looked at the place. This Guy is sitting on his front porch (it's a duplex) and says to one of the 5 kids that are out there with him to come help me.

Later that afternoon, my neice comes in and says "Hey...you better watch it when you guys are bringing loads up the driveway...there's glass freakin' everywhere." I said "No, I just picked it all up." She says, "Uh, I don't think you did...go look."

So, I go out and look and This Crazy Bastard has busted out each and every window, from the inside, mind you, all along their side of the house. I stood there talking to my neice about it about whether or not we should call the police and pick it up, just pick it up, call the landlord and have him call the police and have him pick it up or what. This is when This Crazy Bastard's fucked up, crack whore of a girlfriend whips the door open and says "Don't you fucken' TOUCH that glass. The landlord will be here Monday morning and then I'll tell HIM what the mother-fucker did to me." She was GORGEOUS. Two black eyes, hair in what I can only think to call un-intentional dreadlocks, and winning smile.

I said "You haven't called him yet?" She bares her tooth at me. "No, Beeeyaaaatch. I haven't."

My new phone hadn't been hooked up yet, so I hauled my cookies down to the gas station on the corner and used the payphone to get ahold of our landlord, and instead got Andy, his son. I said "Hey Andy, uh, you guys may want to come over. The neighbors are busting out the windows in the house." He says "Are you kidding? Which side?" I said..."Does it matter?! How bout you GET here and we'll talk details then. Mmmk Pumpkin?"

Always nice to meet your new neighbors.

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This is just good stuff.

Life and Decomposition

While we are all indeed new here, I'm going to save you the pain of all my personal history. If you've got questions that will help you tie it all together, ask. I'm highly unoffendable. And, chances are I'll answer you. That being said, I'm still dealing with an issue that happened a few weeks ago, and I need for it to sit right in my head.

Two weeks ago, on a high profile search we did, my afternoon search team found the body. Normally, in a perfect world, law enforcement would have provided me with an officer to secure the crime scene in the event we found what we were looking for. This jurisdiction did not. Why? Because they were appeasing the family by allowing us to look in the first place. They said that they had covered the areas that we were searching and that they were clear.

So, 400 foot BEHIND THE DAMN JAIL, we find the victim we're looking for, deceased for almost 3 weeks. He had tripped down a ravine and landed on his stomach in a creek bed.

Long story short, I had to go secure the crime scene. I've seen bodies before. I am ok with that. But, this one was different. Normally we find our victims fairly early in the investigation. This one was severely decomposed. The search team that found him told the family right off the bat that it wasn't their dad, that it was a large framed black male. They all look like large framed black males when they've been out in the elements for that amount of time.

He had a muscle debilitating disease. Hence the reason he couldn't get up and shake himself off and go home. The image I'm having trouble digesting (and making go away) in my head is his arm, reaching out, holding a stick trying to pull himself up. He was trying to save himself. And, he failed.

Now, in my dreams (and there are a lot of them) I'm seeing all sorts of stuff that I don't recall seeing at the actual scene. His hand now has a life of its own. There's holes in the flesh. It's reaching, almost beckoning.

His family is with no exception the nicest, most undeserving family I've ever had the pleasure of working with. They are just awesome. I talk with them every day, and it's hard. The son in law of the victim has said that he's having similar problems with his dreams. He saw what I saw, and is having nearly the same images that I've had, though I've not told him that.

It needs to go away so I can concentrate on my other victims.

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Definitely Cheaper than Therapy.

There are just so many things that need to be written down. I once was faithful to my journal, and then time became scarce, particularly time alone where I could write without interuption. Now, the fact is that I type much, much faster than I could ever hand write anything. So, here we are.
An Introduction: I'm SDK. (I'll just go ahead and leave out names. Since half the stuff I write would eventually amount to career suicide, we'll just go ahead and leave it at that.) I'm 29, I founded run a non-profit organization that deals with search and rescue, I have a husband, three little boys, a dog, a cat and plenty of friends. That's sufficient for a preliminary introduction, right? Afterall, you can't help but to get to know someone through their writing, so let us not be impatient. It'll all come out eventually.
There are several factors for why I feel I need a blog. I'll briefly touch on a few of them here and now, then we'll visit them in depth later. KSH is a big one. I can't ever, freakin' EVER get KSH off my mind. The kids - I mean show me a perfect parent and I'll show you a big fat liar. Everyone needs to vent, and since it's pretty insensitive to do it to your spouse or parents, I'll be doing that here. Speaking of spouse...yeah, there's a big one. And, we can't forget the organization (from here on out I'll call that the org). Frustration breeds contempt, and I'd like to just head that off at the pass.
That outta do it.
Nice to meet you.
SDK

Camping.

We went camping this weekend. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. 4th weekend. It was gorgeous.

The campground we went to is Apple something or other. We were set way back on a road in the campground with loads of timbers. Even the ground was soft because of all the pine needles.

Dad came out and hung out with us Saturday night and Sunday night, and then my step-mom came out with him on Monday night. There was plenty of room and I offered for them to stay, but apparently they have some strange aversion to sleeping on hard ground...wussies.

They had Karaoke at the clubhouse, which of course Alex wanted to do. So, all of us went up and hung out for that. Alex sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (wonderfully, and even got a standing ovation) and Sam sang what I can only call the worlds longest version of Old MacDonald. Seriously. 1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, 1 Beer couldn't TOUCH this song in length. Then he didn't want to give up the microphone.

We went back to the campsite and sang Happy Birthday to Sam (he turned 3). After we got done singing, I stand there with a cupcake with three candles sticking out of it. I said "What do you wish for, Bud?" He just looks at me as if I'm on crack. I said, "Ok, what do you want more than anything in the whole wide world?"

His eyes are huge... He replies

"I wanna eat that cake!"

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