REALLY Giving Thanks

Today, I'd like to take a moment to REALLY give thanks. Every single day, I'm grateful for the things that all people are; i.e. food, health, shelter, you know.

But today, I'd like to take a moment to be really honest and thank those that have made a true impact on my life. (Don't judge me, Bitches, you don't know my life).

First, I'd like to thank the lady in customer service with Ford Motor Credit back in 2000. This agent really pissed me off. When she threatened to repo the car I was driving, she drove me to say, "Fucking come get it". (They did.) That resulted in an impound and tow charge of about $750. It did teach me patience and discipline with people in those positions. Now, when a CSR is a cunt, I either hang up or make a game out of it. If they argue, I ask for paper evidence and I pay it. Takes two to fight.

Second, I'd like to thank every utility company who ever negotiated with me on a"Just Give Me Til Friday" basis. That, too, taught me to plan ahead. Humility is a teacher unto itself.

To the bank that covered immeasurable amounts of overdraft fees and caused me to give up checking altogether for about 9 years, THANK YOU. Cash is king. Wouldn't even use a checking if we didn't have a business. But you did teach me NOT to bet on the come. The come sometimes doesn't come.

But more than anyone or anything, I have to give thanks to every false friend, every vindictive, jealous and negative family member, distant and closer, that said I was crazy, that I'd never do anything with my life; that I'd be a cashier (I wish) or a server with no education and do nothing whatsover. To you, I say THANK YOU the most.

I'm not done, I'm nowhere near where I want or intend to be, but I'm in the right direction. It is to the poor morals of the women in my life and the strong work ethic of the men in my life that I am the most thankful. When I think of which direction I could have turned, I shiver and realize that it's not always the parent of the same sex that has the most positive influence on a child. 

So if you see me in the Rural King looking at a piece of welding machinery or at Sears ordering an air dryer for my air compressor (in my kickass Muck boots) and my hair is not done, I haven't a fingernail or hint of beauty upon me, you (too) should be thankful. I could be donned in Aigner and camel toe jeans and shopping at the Village Boutique while fucking your husband.

This is the role I will play in my life and the lives of my children. If I seem crazy (I am) and sometimes screaming the opinion of something other than a doormat, that is the role I shall play. Either be a character in my life or sit back and wish you were.

amy

A Dolla Make Me Holla

(That is a self-portrait of my brain)

I've said before I wasn't raised as wealthy. I was raised to be a label whore.  Once I got out into the "real" world, I saw the box store, Aldi, Save-a-Lot from a closer perspective. I have had friends who made a game out of getting the most lunch meat for their dollar. Kudos to you. Been there, done that.

However, over the last 15 years or so, I've made a turn toward the "not-settling" approach. When I say this, I mean "If I can't get the one I want, then I'll do without until I can'. This, generally, works for me.

Where I'm going with this is that over a period of time, I may have gotten spoiled to things that many would view as frivolous. I like TV. I grew up with a TV in the kitchen, so I have a TV in the kitchen. I was in a situation a few years ago where I needed service to 5 TVs (God forbid one kid be treated differently).
DirecTV wanted so much for the 5th receiver that it was cheaper to have 4 additional TVs hooked up and have both them and Dish Network. (Well, heavens, if 5 is good, imagine how good 8 would be...and it SO is).

So tonight, when I finally decided to bathe and call it a day, Dish Network had lost signal completely and the whole thing had to be reset. (I'm talking at least 5 minutes without service). Entire time in bathroom, no noise, no sounds (but for the ones in my head that I can't drown out). I swear I heard cicadas.

I like bottled beer and soda. A few days ago I was offered a canned beer, I turned it down. (What a snobbish and rude thing to do). I like Oscar Mayer bologna. I refuse to eat any other brand or hot dog (knowingly). As I think over it, there are a million things that I refuse to settle for. Lotions, wines, detergents, brands of stupid things.

My thoughts turn to what if I HAD to settle or do without. I'm sure for the longest time, I'd just do without. But at some point, I'm sure I'd have to break down and use regular deodorant (Tom's Apricot, write this down) or (please, for all that is holy) not have satellite TV. 

I saw a poster recently that presented a small, black child saying to a tall, white woman, "So let me get this straight, you have so much water that you shit in it?". It saddened me to think that we take this stuff for granted. How can I worry about stuff like Peter Thomas Roth lotion (Amazon, seriously) and nice hotels (Hilton, get points, better than being royalty), when there are people right this moment whose kids don't have food until Monday's breakfast at school.

Makes me think of the Luckenbach, Texas song  by Waylon Jennings that says, "Let's get back to the basics of love".  Have I become so spoiled that I can't function?I think I've forgotten what a privilege it is to have a healthy family and, really, very little drama (of which I've not brought on myself). 

Someone asked me yesterday what it'd take for me to consider myself a rock star? I'm still tossing that around in my head (and I've heard it twice today). I don't know if you would know if you were a rock star (unless you play the mandolin like ABR or there are groupies waiting outside your overpriced RV with the mirrored ceiling. I mean, when do you feel so complacent with where you are that you stop trying to go further? At what point did Mitt say to Anne, "you know, I think we have enough money. Think I'll stop overtaking companies and rebuilding. Give someone else a shot at the title".

Now that you've seen just an inkling of the ramblings in my head, where do I go with this... (insert, I am on the cusp of something here. It may take awhile but I'll keep you posted)

Welcome to Adulthood

Wonder if this boy above told his mom he was a "Grown-Ass Man". Look where that got him....

I've spent a long day thinking about where I came from and where I am. My ADHD thought process made me then think of Paris Hilton, the Kardashians and countless other uber-successful by birth people.


Really, I came from nowhere. When I think back to my teen years, I thought we we did well. I thought we were better off than most. I thought we had all we wanted or needed. I mean, I saw people who didn't have what we had. They must have been "the poor people".

As an adult, I realize we didn't have squat. (In the voice of a 13-year-old girl), O-M-G, WE WERE SOOOO POOR. I Lived on Main Street here in the fine village of Podunk until I was almost 20. We had a pool, satellite, cable, video games, dirt bikes, 3-wheeler, (little supervision as I think back) and a purple scooter.
I never remember being hungry; although, I do remember gorging on payday when the groceries came in from the box store where Subway is now. I do remember eating the ass ends off of cold hot dogs and sticking the middle in the trash for fear that I'd be caught "wasting" food. AND I remember my brother living on Gerber baby cereal (the flake kind you mix with milk) for most of high school.



I don't recall eating out EVER, or a class t-shirt or lunch money. I do remember lots of Aigner clothing, the Village Boutique and prom dresses that were WAY OVERPRICED. I recall buying 76 cents of gas one time for the biggest piece of shit car IN THE WORLD. I thought that's what you did. You turn 16 and the stepmother gets a new car. Right of passage sort of thing. 


When I became an adult, I judged a successful life on having a pool, having satellite TV, having cycles, cable, and "things". As the kids started high school, ALL kids had cell phones. Neither kid got a NEW car, but I was teaching them character (and after all, they had a damn cell phone for the triple AMY if they needed roadside assistance). They both had what they "NEEDED" in high school.


Both kids have had gas money, lunch money, insurance, cell phones, prom attire, money for any occasion needed, class rings, no jobs to interfere with sports and academics. "We've" footed the bill. 


It is of my opinion that my job as a mother (unlike my own mother) is to send my kids out into the world with a solid education, manners, good credit and good teeth. 


I am fully happy to continue to provide these privileges to both my kids as long as they continue their education (for as long as they choose to continue) and I see that they are helping me to help them. There are no free rides, my people. These grants are way more than I was EVER given. I'll have student loans until I die, and that's a payment I don't mind paying EVERY. SINGLE. MONTH. FOR-EV-ER.


I guess when I think abut the uber-privileged, I become sad. As I look at my life, I had nowhere to go but up (or two blocks west). If you start at the bottom, your goals don't have to be in the upper tiers of society. You can be in the middle class and still be "winner, winner, chicken dinner". As long as I feel like I am better off than when I started (still like the ass end of cold hot dogs), then there is no outside pressure to perform.


Were I have began my life as a celebrity child or professional athlete's kid, I would be expected to do grand things. As a coal miner's daughter, I'm only expected to exist and have utilities. I wonder what kind of a life my kids will look back on and feel like they have to maintain to be considered successful?


Paige continues in school (I secretly hope forever) and Kane is a typical undecided 18-year-old. I would be fine if either of my children were to join the Peace Corps and live in mud huts. I now see success as not "things", but more of options. Success is taking a day off "BECAUSE YOU CAN", traveling "BECAUSE YOU CAN', and just having the utilities auto drafted.


We are not "successful" people. We do not live on the upper rungs of society. We live, we work, we pay, we work some more. Bills come, they go back out. It's just life. You save and something needs tires. You save and the water heater goes out...or a transmission fails....or LIFE just slaps you in the face.


I guess the point to my slobber is I don't mind helping "YOU" if you are helping yourself. I don't mind giving a hand up, and I expect the same from my government, my neighbor and my kids. Schutt kids, you will have been successful if you have helped even ONE person along your way. I love you both, now get your asses out there and make something of yourselves. 


(Who's the best mom in the whole wide world?)....all together, kids.

Mentioning the Un-Mentionables

As a child, my grandmother called them your unmentionables. Later she'd call them panties, underwear, drawers, draws, skins, and a plethora of other nouns. I like to call them unnecessary, but there are occasions when it is inappropriate to just lie around the house without them. Unless you are from a third-world country or a resident in an assisted living facility, you should not have draws hanging around like the above photo.
There is a place for everything, and NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOUR draws blowing in the wind.

I recently saw 6-week panties at Gander for $18 a pair. The concept is that (hopefully) you buy two pair, go on that long hike, bike ride, camping trip, etc and you wear a pair, in the evening wash said pair out and put on second pair while the first day's product in its anti-bacterial form corrects itself. Wonder how long you could wear them with their dissolving? Someone try them and let me know.

Now, look, you naysayers, I can appreciate a nice, tight ass. Hell, I'd probably trade a little toe (maybe a ring finger) for a forever tight ass. (Yo, Genie, no tradesies and then I get the old girl back in the fine print).

If you have a tight, fit and firm ass, by all means, let that girl out. Let your freak flag fly. HOWEVER, most of the women I have contact with do not fall into said category. For these ladies, I ask, please, for the love of all that is holy, KEEP THAT SHIT PUT UP. I don't want to see your draws.

The point of my rant is that today I had occasion to shop for some run-of-the-mill, not getting my freak flag on unmentionables. I saw big panties, little panties, thongs, boy shorts, bikinis, boxer briefs. I saw some that said Love and peace and Go Team, butterflies, every geometric shape known to Sheldon Cooper and the list goes on and on.

Here is my beef: Even as a middle-aged woman who is not looking for panties with Tweetie Bird, I also don't want panties that scream "Just-Brought-My-Baby-Home-From-The-Hospital" pink or blue either. I don't want panties that look like the tablecloth my grandma saved for the occasional family gathering, or her nightgown, or the cloth that covered that little round table in the corner of the living room and had fake plastic flowers in a vase. If Avon sells it, I DON'T WANT IT.  To you vendors in New Delhi who are making these calls: WE DON'T WANT THE SAME PATTERN OF PANTIES THAT YOU USE ON KITCHEN RUGS.

Let's see if we can't narrow this down to black, white, nude. Throw a red or hot pink in there if you want...or a nice charcoal. But let's limit the cartoon bullshit to children's section. No real man wants to open the golden gates to heaven and see pantie with a fucking daisy on them. It's a turnoff for all involved. Mickey isn't who you want your partner thinking about during sex.

(As a caveat, should you be a fan of the baby pink/baby blue panties, Google a site for you to meet others like you. In due time, the GIG will have a phone number you can call and for $9.99 a minute you can tell an English-speaking American man/woman all about your panty fetish. We'll keep you posted. Until then, if you're not getting laid, now you have some insight into why. If you are getting laid, that is great that you've met someone just like you. You're soulmates. Hope it lasts forever....but have a financial backup plan for when he learns to use the Net and finds hot women online WITHOUT the panties of an 8-year-old.) You've been warned.

Life on a Turd Ball

So each night I go to the DVR in hopes that there will be a Real Housewives of Somewhere Else recorded. I record because I have no sense of schedule, meaning I don't know when anything is on. I wonder what a RH of SoIll would consist of. I was thinking today about what a production crew would get of me, were they tagging along. 

There aren't any exotic trips to foreign land for most of the people around me. I often hear Florida. Rarely do I hear of travel to Beijing or Zimbabwe. Are we without culture? Do I know anyone who plans on visiting The Met? Maybe.

Today, I cleaned maggots out of rabbit drop pans and cleaned off the concrete for two coon dogs. Would they get an image of my reflective side view? Would America be dazzled by the excitement of a vine-ripened tomato?

If I planned an extravagant outdoor event, there would be wine. I'd hope that "Crazy Eyes" wouldn't attend, so I'd purposely omit Pinot Grigio from my wet bar. I would, however, have a few kegs of various blends for the ones I love. I'd have Gretchen and all of my favorite girls from Atlanta. Candy would bring X-rated gifts. NeNe would keep everyone in check.

I know that there are others like me. There are women, like me, who've shared their vaginal region with an offspring and turned into a coach, a hunter, a gunman, pageant coach and all kinds of stupid shit that we'd have never taken part in. It's like kids suck all of your life out of you and leave their scent from the inside out. I just don't know if these are things that justify an hour of DVR space for many.

So how do we as So ILL ladies entice Bravo and others to show the world what we have to offer? We don't, and we rejoice in the fact that we can wear tube tops and sit in lawn chairs in the front  yard and watch kids ride their bikes barefoot down a side street. We can scream profanities at people who drive too fast down our side streets. We can have a yard sale with a toilet in the yard, without the stinkeye from passersby.

Here in Podunk, entertainment is simple. It's time to think about canning, trees and shrubs are on sale, and many are thinking about where to go for fireworks. These are not things that city folk want to watch. For all of our sanity, let's make an effort to keep it that way. For the squeamish, below is what we could use as a logo. It made me laugh out loud (LOL to you whippersnappers), so I felt compelled to share it.

Air Hugs. (3-year anniversary for BPS's accident tomorrow. Still taking one day at a time. Remember, if you don't laugh, life's turd ball will make you cry.) ....    Amy

Some Things Never Change

I doubt I am alone when I say that girls were bitches when I was young. I know, I was a bitch too. We have to be bitches to make it in what used to be a man's world. We, as women, have made great strides in today's society. We still don't have a woman in the Masters Clubhouse. We still don't get to join the Mason's. There will always be an "Old Boys Club". I'm okay with that. I want men to do men things, so that I may do things without them as well.

In the same thought process, it is of my opinion that 50 Shades of Grey has become the secret porn hit that it is because we (speaking for women like me) are tired of being the Type A, Alpha Female. We want the fucking pedestal back. I like having my door opened. I like the mystery of NOT KNOWING what a man does in the bathroom. I like a man who'll take charge and be the decision-maker. I'm the chief all day, every day. Please let me be the Indian everywhere else. For just one moment of my life, don't ask my opinion. Don't ask me to handle it. Just do it like you would if I weren't around.

(Insert ADHD moment).  I spent the weekend in Chicago at the Ride the Drive event. It was awesome. It's insanely expensive to live there. (Think $3800 rent downtown). The picture above is my girl in the Grand Ballroom of the Chicago Hilton. (The one on Michigan by Grant Park, not the other. Which is nice too, but not even the same category of great). It's been a pleasant few days. But here's what I've discovered:

1. Tony Schutt and I are not meant to spend time within reaching distance for more than a few hours. We are not nice people. Neither of us have the patience to suck it up and hold in our thoughts.

2. I like nice things. Like, REALLY nice things. I love valet. I mean, if the Kroger had valet, I'd use it. I know it's frivolous and wasteful. But I LOVE IT. I love the cart, the strange man packing my bags, asking if I need directions or a drink, a place to sit. I think courtesy is a dying art.

3.  I think allowing a strange woman to turn down your bed and provide you a mint is ridiculous and you might as well let her tuck you in. If I'm a grown-ass woman and I've not found a way to get between the sheet and comforter yet, I have much greater issues than the needs of the help.

         Back to the point of this snag.  Here we go.     Girls are bitches.
 
The more I try to take the high road, turn the cheek, be the "better" person, the more contact I have with these strange beings. (Please re-read the part where I say I'm a chief ALL THE DAMN TIME).

                    Maybe it is ingrained in us as teenagers that girls are the enemy. Maybe the struggles of competition when we are young is a hard habit to break.
                    I've said a million times (and I shall repeat), until you are comfortable enough in yourself and those people and belongings that you have, you can never make a true, true friend. For some of us, it takes a little longer to get there. Until you are confident enough in yourself and your worth, you will always look at other women as a threat to your relationship, position in life, et cetera.
     A group of women of different ages (much like Lord of the Flies) will establish a leadership pyramid. Such is life. Such is acceptable and expected. The issue with this is that when you have too many chiefs and not enough Indians, things are not effective, efficient or enjoyable for the Indians. Rodney King would say, "Why can't we all just get along?".

The short answer: Because girls are bitches. We are mean to each other and clique up in the same old habits we've lived with since two vaginas fought over a cock in a cave in the beginning of time. If those two women had just learned to share, things could be so much different today.  Give a girl a break. I think most women have a higher opinion of their product than the general population. You're the boss, he's your cock, few others want him or your lot in life. Be confident in who you are and what you have. For god's sake, lighten up, Frances.

Let me not be remiss in inserting here. I've thrown down. I've rolled in gravel. I've slit tires. I've sent those little magazine inserts to addresses from the library. I've put sugar in gas tanks. I've participated in vile, ugly things of which I'm not proud. I try EVERY DAY to be better. To put those habits and episodes behind me. I TRY to turn the other cheek and consider that it is my karma that I am responsible for. I TRY. With that said, I am not behind smacking a bitch down if I see you bully even a stranger to me. I know what it right and wrong. Should I see you bring another grown-ass woman to tears (or myself), do not be shocked when I pull a Drita from Mob Wives on you and roll like a booger.

Back to my endless amount of screens to clean. I feel better already. Happy HO-Liday.

Mother's Day...(Meh)

Everywhere I look, I see posts and cards regarding Mother's Day and the celebrations that follow. If you know me, really know me, you know I've never had much of a female role model. As I've gotten older and had kids of my own, I've discovered I have much less hate for this lacking, but more of a negative score in the respect column for any woman who shares their vagina or nether-region and opts out of what follows. It's not that I feel pity for me but more that I can't seem to grasp how one walks away without at least wondering if said offspring is fed, watered, dressed, abused and a mile of other adjectives that concern any parent.

I've watched parents and family walk away from their injured and sick children while enduring Paige's hospital transfers, and I didn't get it then either. Though Kane has been gone on his senior trip for a week, not a moment has gone by that I haven't wondered if he had enough sense to feed and bathe himself (and hopefully, not gotten into the windowless van with the bum I'm sure they paid to buy alcohol). Note to bum, Florida is a death penalty state, and I'm not afraid to push the limits of the justified homicide concept, if necessary. (There is a place for vigilantism even in today's society).

I've spent a lifetime of hearing the perks of a good mother. Honestly, it sickens me to think that there are women of all ages that exist everywhere who somehow feel left out or less than because a woman chose to skirt her responsibilities.    If anything, it's made us stronger and more independent.

I used to be so jealous of the girls I knew whose mothers smothered them, who were BFFs, who didn't try to gouge each other's eyes out and that there was no mental debate over who the guy who came to your house was really there to see. As I've gotten older, I see that the greatest gift you can give, to a child that you don't intend to care for, is to walk away. 

My advice to you, if you are one of these lowlife skanks, (all disrespect intended), is to walk away. Don't send cards. Don't show up unannounced, uninvited or otherwise, and try to be the parent your child needed at 8 and 13 and 20. Walk away. Stay gone. Don't run into adults and tell them who you are and what your relationship to said child is. If that child's name comes into a conversation you are a part of, clam up. Don't dare attempt to take credit for any part of a life you didn't contribute positively to.

My advice to the motherless (sharing a vagina does not make you a mother) is this: Consider this the greatest gift you could have received. If it took her a little longer to let go, consider that a gift that took a little longer to get. If you have kids, know that even if you do your job poorly (but safely), that you win. Even if your kid doesn't have an iPod or the coolest prom dress or a class ring, you win. 

Suck the positives from every older woman you come in contact with. Know that all those even-barely-older-than-you women are teaching you amazing things that you will not recognize until you, too, are older and the glass is a little cleaner.


For this Mother's Day, I can't help but think of some of these women...Coren Miller, Sheila Furlow, Juanita Martin, Judy Martin, Kitty Williams. You were all women who helped create the thought process that I carry with me today...and I thank you....HMD.

A Friday Night in April

First of all, I refuse to believe this is springtime. Now that I have that behind me, I want to get down to the nitty-gritty.

For-EV-er, I've been telling my friends and family of my dreams to start an alpaca farm, a screen printing shop that puts ALL of the Blackman women to work and so many other of those from Saline County ... and the porn phone line ... and the bicycle cabins on Legion Road. I've not left those dreams behind and I be damned if the dream crushers will push me farther into the gutter .... However,

as I sit here tonight alone in front of this computer on a Friday night, I've seriously spent a good portion of my spare and valuable time surfing the Internet (yes, you cap it, people) looking for bicycle routes to travel cross country. I can't even make up my mind which direction in which to travel.

I would LOVE to bicycle out west (and I will), but those pesky Rocky Mountains make my thighs quiver. Then I think of the Carolinas and Virginia, which includes Barry O and the Lincoln monument. That makes me smile, but then you have those equally challenging Smoky Mountains....see a theme here?

I could go straight south through Kentucky, but the sound of banjos makes me squeal like a pig...(and not in a funny, cute way). North sounds nice, I've heard there are amazing trails in central Illinois. But is that really cross country, or just basically uphill?

So now, my lottery dreams are fueling my desire to load a backpack (one of those cool ones with the Camelbak for my endless supply of fluids) and a cute place for my ipod. I mean, really, who can travel long distance without Queen and Eminem and all of the friends.

As my ADHD kicks in, would it be safe for me to sleep roadside after my bedtime cocktail? I think not. They'd steal my 9mm and my ipod, god forbid my bike, then what would I do?

I have to have something to read, my mind would turn to mush. How will I charge my Kindle ... and my ipod? Books are heavy. Could I plan a route with only Hilton Gardens and libraries? I'm going to NEED good sheets. A girl can't be expected to travel like a nomad all day on a bike and not shave her legs.

I guess I'm looking for someone to plan my route, pack my bag (after shopping for me, you know I HATE to shop), schedule my stops ... and run the art dept, receiving, shipping, supplies, customer service (with a MFing smile).

I can't be ALL things to ALL people. With that said, the minute I get that email in my inbox saying my subscription has hit the big one (and once I can figure out my password to see the amount), I'm out of here. Paige can call Miranda for her needs. Kane needs no one. If I can remember to pack stamps (not to person packing, pack stamps), I'll send you all a postcard... (that's a false promise, but I'll post pics and stories along my route).

If I get raped and pillaged along my trip, please know that I've checked out doing what I love most. Someone feed my rabbits (and the alpacas) and don't let the kids auction off my first edition books for some meaningless pocket change.

Help me to remind my loved ones, we're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. (back to Google Maps)....amy

Paying It Forward

I read a quote that said, "You cannot live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you".

Our family has lived under a cloud for almost three years. When Paige was hurt, people from all over (many of whom we'd never met and still haven't) came together and raised and donated funds to help our family. Many we will never know of their names. I've said repeatedly that you never truly know humble until you've been on the receiving end of charity. It knocks you straight to your knees and you feel you'll never rise again. We've struggled to find a way to pay it forward.

When the recent tornado passed by us without harm, we knew we were blessed. None of us at this household really knew how fortunate we really were. Kane used his chainsaw the first and second day with some boys from the college and came home to tell me, "It's bad, Mom, it's really bad". Kane has been to hell and back with us, so he recognizes bad.

Within 10 hours of the storm, we received calls from Los Angeles asking us to print t-shirts for Team Rubicon. They are a disaster team that is supported solely from a grant from Google that sends teams of (hot and young) men to areas of devastation. This was followed by other charitable teams from all over within the same night.

A good friend of mine (David) who's printed t-shirts in Georgia and Florida for 42 years called and said we should print a tornado t-shirt. Being only able to process one thing at a time, I dismissed it and went about artwork for these teams.

The following morning, David called and said, "I'm going to approach this a little differently. Let me tell you a story about Hurricane Andrew. The screen printers from all over this country set up shop on every corner selling I Survived Hurricane Andrew t-shirts and left with our money just as quickly as they came. Even if you don't make a cent, Amy, you can be a part of the solution or you can sit back and watch it happen, and it will happen".

Being the pissy playground bully that I am, my first thought was, "Oh, no, they will not come swooping in here like vultures and rob from the people in my backyard." It was at that moment that I literally THREW TOGETHER the art for the tornado tees. All I could think of was that when Paige was hurt, it was repeated to me, "This too shall pass, Amy". It has not passed, but has gotten easier, one day at a time.

We do A LOT of business with Gallatin County, they are our people. And they are good people. We do a lot of business with Harrisburg. They, too, are our people. Apparently, I make men nervous when I use a chainsaw, but I can print a t-shirt.

Once we decided to do this and saw that it was going to be more than just a hundred or so t-shirts, I got on the horn to my favorite t-shirt vendor, Virginia Ts.

This company is run by a woman. She is taking care of her family, very much like I try to mine. I have "whored" myself out to this woman and asked that if she were to be compassionate with us on just the orange, white and gray t-shirts for the tornado shirts this one time, even if it were only pennies, that I would pledge every cent of my future business to her company. Her response was, "what kind of a ass would I be now if I didn't?". Just the response I was looking for.

The average cost of the t-shirts for the tornado shirts blank runs right above $2 each. The bigger sizes are running about $3.56 each. We decided that EVERY NICKEL that we raise on these shirts shall go right back to the respective counties unto which a t-shirt was purchased.

We don't count the money, it goes into a brown grocery sack labeled either Gallatin or Saline on it. The finest ladies in the land at Peoples National Bank are sorting through all those checks and cash. Some businesses from Saline and Gallatin County (Miller's Army Surplus, J. Bacher Jewelers, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Integrated Health, TK Brown Signs and Mimmo's Pizza) have offered to sell these shirts out of their stores so that we may continue to take care of clients who pay our water bill and put food on our table. Without them, we would have drowned by now. Please say thank you to those people, who are so unselfishly doing so.

We've had CBS Sports here on the property out of New York, Evansville Courier, CNN called out of Atlanta, Saint Louis Dispatch, Daily Register and the Associated Press. We've told them each the same thing, "Please do not rob our family of the chance to pay back what was done for us. Even by indirect advertising, that would be taken from us." Paige told a man from the AP that, "You get what you give". She and I spoke briefly with the Evansville Courier and Richard Gootee. The outpouring of phone calls from the Southern Indiana area is amazing.

I guess I post this blog with the hope that people will understand (although I know many won't and will turn a positive into a negative) that we do this for us. We do this as a selfish act to lift this cloud from above us. The ONLY cost coming out of that $10 donation is the actual cost of the blank t-shirt itself. Every cent of money for inks, screens, emulsions, bags, food, drinks, etc has come from our pocket. We could have very easily handed that money over as a donation and been done with it. Instead, we've chosen to take our little donation and with the help of SO MANY PEOPLE turn it into a bigger one.

There are many volunteers here now. There are donations pouring in and help in abundance. Down the road, when the cameras leave, when the new wears off, or worse, when something worse happens somewhere else, it is then that the powers that be will be able to see who really had property insurance, who really had a hidey-hole and who is really in need of help. We hope that then is when all the donations that have come in will benefit those just like us, THE WORKING POOR.

In conclusion (that's what every good speech teacher taught me), I hope that people really do see the good in this and not try to pick it apart and make it something ugly. Now, the responsibility rests upon all of those in Gallatin and Saline Counties to pay it forward down the road, hopefully like we have.

Things I Want My Kids to Know

I have caught up on artwork and am looking at idle hands. This causes me to reflect on silly things like what I want me kids to know, should I be mauled to death by a mother rabbit or attacked by a rabid cougar while bicycling Sahara Woods. Here goes:

1. You is kind. You is smart. You is important.

2. Tide and Downy are the Rolls Royce of detergents. Don't destroy your body or the money you've put into clothes with cheap soap. Kane, Carhartt's not cheap. Paige, don't wash your Ugg boots in the washer. Please, please, don't mix your whites with jeans.

3. Being different is okay. There is a fine line between crazy and genius. Sometimes we don't see the line.

4. Girls like boys who can cook. Boys like girls that haven't been with every boy in town.Keep your head above your heart. At some point in your life, you will say "I'm so glad I didn't sleep with ... ".

5. If someone offers you a chance to sit, drink or pee, take it. This is a gift.

6. Before you take the big leap into something, read everything you can find on it. Learn from people who've been there. Ask someone. They may have been waiting their whole lives to hear that question.

7. The way you treat people is their karma. The way you react is yours. Choose your words wisely. You don't HAVE to say anything.

8. No one owes you anything. It's your obligation to make your way in this world. Do not take a handout. You will never truly hold anything dear that you've not earned on your own.

9. Credit cards are the devil. Enough said.

10. If you'd rather be alone, do it. There is no shame in being happy all by yourself.
It's easier to take the road less traveled if you're not dragging anyone else along with you.

11. Learn to see Bullshit coming from a mile away. It leaves a path. If it's too good to be true, someone else has something to gain from it (and it's usually not you).

12. Don't give up on something you dream about every day. Visualize it. Make a goal. Write it down. Don't be afraid to try. Failure will teach you humility.

13. Show compassion. When you see someone in need, help them. If you see something lacking, help it. We're all one step away from being where they are. And be good to service people. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to eat out. That, too, could be your son or daughter.

14. Don't change for anyone but yourself. You are perfect they way you are. And if you do, I will hunt them down and haunt them until their dying day. Get a hobby, it helps to maintain insanity.

15. Paige, do not feel threatened by any female. It will not be until you've gotten comfortable with yourself that you truly make GOOD friends with another girl. Be confident in what you have or get rid of him/it.

16. Kane, take good care of your animals. I know you'll find a way in this world to be happy and be done by noon when the weather is nice or something is in season.

Love, Your Mother (I call no MeMaws)