Hallowe'en Witch

Stolen

A Halloween Story

A bald man with a wooden leg gets invited to a Halloween party. He doesn't know what costume to wear to hide his head and his leg so he writes to a costume company to explain his problem. A few days later, he received a parcel with the following note:

Dear Sir,

Please find enclosed a pirate's outfit. The spotted handkerchief will cover your bald head and, with your wooden leg, you will be just right as a pirate.

Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co.

The man thinks this is terrible because they have emphasized his wooden leg and so he writes a letter of complaint. A week goes by and he receives another parcel and a note, which said:

Dear Sir,

Please find enclosed a monk's habit. The long robe will cover your wooden leg and, with your bald head, you will really look the part.

Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co.

Now the man is really upset since they have gone from emphasizing his wooden leg to emphasizing his bald head so again he writes the company another nasty letter of complaint. The next day he gets a small parcel and a note, which reads:

Dear Sir,

Please find enclosed a bottle of molasses and a bag of crushed nuts. Pour the molasses over your bald head, pat on crushed nuts, stick your wooden leg up your ass and go as a caramel apple.

Very truly yours,
Acme Costume Co.

Happy birthday, Dadness.

Happy birthday, Dadness.

You're the one who introduced me to the concept of Not Crying Over Spilled Milk. It has translated into a pretty healthy mindset now that I've extrapolated it. As it turns out, all that stuff you told me would build character? It did. Thank you for everything you did and continue to do to make sure I am a decent human being. Everything good I am is because of you.

A bit of housecleaning.

I chose to hide/delete some comments over the last few weeks, and I wanted to address something that was asked of me. A right good question, in fact. Here it is.

Auntie G, I have carefully considered “Why I snapped” at Todd in the first place over the last few days, and I have a pretty clear picture why I did.

Anytime I do something which does not bring peace, hope, or unity happens when I’m living from fear. Whenever I’m able to do anything kind, generous, or unifying, happens when I’m living from a position of love.

Living from a position of love is the strangest, most responsible, most powerful, most delicious place to be, and yet… I forget. I forget and tip-toe back over to Fear, thinking maybe I won’t have what I need, or maybe my relationships will fail, or maybe I’m not good enough. All lies I tell myself, obviously.

Living in Fear is the opposite of who I actually am as part of the universe. Living in love is who I actually am. Fear itself is the static that seems to get louder and louder when I allow myself to go for days just running on pattern. (Get up, shower, dress, go to work, come home, think little.) Love is what happens, and is thus shared, when I remind myself to hush, be love, and go back to The Source. (I choose to call it God.) When I recognize myself as part of The Source, the source of love, peace, and unity, I don’t snap.

When I hush, listen, and connect with The Source through prayer and meditation, I am reminded of my home: Love. I am reminded who I am: Love. The Source quiets my self-made mind, and allows Love to live itself out in me.

Do I have this down pat? Fuck, no. But it’s awesome to know who I am. And what is possible because of the The Source.

I love it when...

...God does a miracle. And lets me participate. And then, just to top it all off, lets me see how love wins. Always.

From January to March of this year, Todd and I had a fairly regular visitor to our door. The first knock came when it was literally 2 degrees outside, and we were pretty much snowed in. Matt, we'll call him that because it's his name, knocked and offered to dig out the front walk. The help was well worth the money, so I hired him because a.) Todd was at work, and b.) I sure wasn't doing it when I could climb out if necessary. Hey, 2 freakin' degrees!

Matt was young, obviously homeless, and obviously drug addicted. It was also obvious that he still wanted to be proud of himself somehow, even in the midst of the very bad place his mind and body were living. After he was done shoveling, I paid him and asked where his shelter for the night was. He told me that he had a room for the night, and a few more dollars would pay for it, which is why he asked to shovel the walk. Because it was so damn cold, I told him to come in, be warm, and I'd bundle up then take him to his shelter. He refused, but I insisted, especially since this person was now in my home I couldn't in good conscience send him out to walk anywhere in that weather, wet from shoveling walks, and not the best coat I'd ever seen. Like, no way.

In the car on the way to "the shelter," he talked a little bit about where he went to college (an excellent school) and what sort of job he used to have (a well-paying one in a technical field). He said, "I bet you wonder how I got this way."

"No," I said, "I know how it happened. One of the most important people in the world to me is a recovering addict." I think he was a little surprised.

"What's so ridiculous is that I've relapsed. I was sober for seven months before I quit my recovery."

I told him I was sorry and asked him what was his drug of choice. "Crack."

"Honey, you're going to die," I said. "You already know where I live, here's my card. Call me any time of the day or night if you need to go to a meeting or can get into an inpatient program. I'll drive you."

Matt wasn't quite done beating the shit out of himself, and showed up probably six or seven more times over those three months. Once I knew what his drug was, we resisted giving him any more than a few dollars at a time, and just had him come in and talk and eat. My sweet chef fed him several times and made him feel welcome in our home, even though it made him so very sad. Whenever Matt came by, it left Todd with a deep sadness because his situation was so desperate, and seemed so hopeless. I was always thankful that Todd didn't prevent me from inviting him in and that he shared with Matt even though it made him sad. I always offered to wash or dry his clothes if he wanted, but he never let me.

The last time we talked, he was especially exhausted. He admitted that he wasn't going to keep his life up much longer, and he needed help. He told me he'd have to turn himself in, do 30 days for probation violation, and then get inpatient treatment. I asked him to please, please let me know when he got in.

We had never heard from Matt again, but Todd and I talked about him often, and I prayed for him a LOT. I talked about him to Tina and Terri, and he was never really far from my mind.

Friday, Todd and I were talking about him and hoping he'd gone into recovery and that's why we never heard from him anymore. I chose to believe that he had, but sometimes I was scared that he'd gotten high and wandered into traffic or something. I just hoped with all my heart that his parents had not had to lose him. I had no way to get hold of them or him.

Saturday, at about noon, the doorbell rang.

Since I was feeling under the weather that day, Todd answered the door, went out and pulled the door mostly shut behind him. A young, healthy, nice-looking, smiling guy said, "Hi!" Todd had no idea who this person was. He obviously thought Todd should know him. "You don't remember me, do you?" Then, Matt asked, "Is that Stacey in there?" Todd said he looked like he was about to cry, even through his smile.

"Matt! I didn't recognize you, man. Come in!"

I cried, I hugged him, we all tried to control ourselves. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. Matt said we had been on his mind a lot over the last seven months, and because he was working on his 9th step ("make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others") wanted to come talk with us. He was entirely honest about his dealings with us in the past. I was absolutely inspired by how responsible he was in his conversation.

In addition to telling the truth about his past, we also learned that he's been doing the serious work of recovery since the middle of March, he's enjoying his life, has a nice car, a great job, and people he loves, including his parents. He's also pretty excited about his motorcycle.

He also thanked us for -- and this is the part that will stick with us forever -- treating him with love and humanity when people were looking at him like he was a shrub.

He asked if there was anything he could do to make amends for the lies he had told, and for showing up unexpectedly so many times. We assured him that he was doing just that by letting God take over, healing his addictions, and living the beautiful life that he was meant to live. He wasn't satisfied with just that, and left a gift for us, as well.

The sweetest gift, though, was the letter he left telling us that he understands life to be what "you showed me" at the beginning of this year: love for and service to others.

I have never been so humbled or thrilled to be a very tiny part of someone's miracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You must behave as if your every act, even the smallest,

impacted a thousand people for a hundred generations... because it does."

-- Müller

FYI

I am a "Cool History/Lit Geek"

I'm not really a waitress, either.

OK, here are mine:

Mary Kay
Pink Starshine
Pink Bikini

Sinful Colors
Crux
Celia

Sally Hansen
Tranquil Taupe
Supershine (2)

L'Oreal
Bijoux Holographics Island Twilight
Sheer Innocence
Dripping Rubies
Moonlit Mauve (an all-time favorite ltd edition that I can't find ANYWHERE!)
Rose Zing
Firma Nail
Go Chili
Sheer Bliss

Victoria's Secret
Platinum

OPI
Windy City Pretty
Lincoln Park After Dark
Los Angeles Latte
Up the Amazon Without a Paddle
Pompeii Purple
Shanghai Shimmer
Maui Mango
Jewel of India
Kimono'ver Here
OPI Red (2)
Cajun Shrimp
Prince George's Passion
Mrs. O'Leary's BBQ
Magala Wine
Sonora Sunset
You're Such a Kabuki Queen
La Paz-itively Hot
Queen of De Nile
Strawberry Margarita
I'm Not Really a Waitress

While I only have 37 listed here -- a sad number by any Numb3r standards -- I'm sure I have 6-8 more rolling around in various bathroom drawers. It's a crime against humanity. ;-)

For my LOLCAT loving friends.

You have seen I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER, yes? No? Click here and go see. I will wait.

...waiting...

OK, now that you've sampled, I want to share with you what my soul sister sent to me today, and I snorted with GLEE, I tell you! Glee!

This is the Lord's Prayer in LOLCAT. Yes, it's not terribly reverent, but damn it's funny.


DadCat ovr Ceiling
Ur name it rly rly g00d
Somday Ur kingdom we has it
U say whut, we does, on floor n ovr Ceiling
We can has cheezburger evry dai k?
We be bad U no sqrt bottl k?
N if sombody be bad 2 us we no bite
No mak us badkitties k?
Badstuff -- DO NOT WANT!
Kingdom, U has it! Ur pwning all teh d00dz! 4EVAH!
KTHXBAI

If you click the link on LOLCAT above, it will take you to a translator. It's definitely not as good as this one, but it's a start on the stupidity-fest that makes me laugh EVERY DAY.

BWHAHAHA!!

Tonight Todd said of my Facebook picture (seen here)


I saw that picture and I thought, "She's been divorced twice. But, how many has she killed?"

About nothing better than a funny man.

Letter: 38 years and 10 days old.

Anaheim, Calif.
Oct. 2nd, 1969

Miss Stacey Leigh
514 Garrison Dr.
California, Md.

Dear Stacey,

This is probably the first letter you have ever received and the writer feels highly honored because of your arrival, it has made me a Great Grandfather, something I never thought I would be lucky enough to be.

Of course you can’t read yet so your parents will have to read it for you.

Now your G. Grandfather would like the privilege of helping to make you comfortable during your first year and there are only two things a little lady of your age needs to keep her in solid comfort, one is a nice warm bottle of milk and the other is a dry diaper. I inquired about the cost of keeping one baby in diapers for one year and the diaper laundry said they would furnish everything for 250.00. It may be more or less where you live, so I am enclosing a check made out to you for 500.00 and if there is any left you can always buy an all-day-sucker or an ice cream cone with the rest.

Now here is some good advice that will also help to keep you comfortable, when you feel hungry or a little damp, you just start to yell (just a little bit at first) and if no one pays attention to you, just yell louder and louder until you get some service. Now don’t feel that you are being unusual, because this is a racket (or method) that has been forever successful. Now after your parents have made you comfortable again, all you have to do is goo and smile a little, because that’s all the pay they want. Now don’t overdo that yell business, because they might just get smart and quit jumping so quick.

Since the check is made out to you personally, it will be necessary for your fingerprint to appear above your mother’s signature before the check can be cashed.

Here are some other things you will probably learn yourself: those two things that keep showing up in front of your face with those wiggly things on the end of them are your hands, and you will be surprised how many things you can do with them. Also, the two other things you see once in a while are your feet. Now those feet are very handy when you learn to balance on them they will keep you right-side-up. When you feel hoppy, you can use them to hop, skip, and jump, and you can also kick people with them, but the latter is not practical.

Last but not least: you have two very fine parents who will take care of all the details for you, they will love and care for you until you are able to take care of yourself.

You are from good stock and I want to welcome you to the clan.

Love to you & your parents,
your G. Grandfather
John D. Moss

Happy, yet insane.

I'm shitty at living with people. I know this because I adore Todd, and yet I snap at him. For idiot things that do not matter. Someone, please tell me how to calm the crap down.

I'm open for suggestions and coaching, starting now.

Go.

Best misspelling of the week.

For an amythest ring I happened upon over at craigslist.org:

Amithithist & diamond ring - $30

Great price, though.

A poem by Carl Dennis.

The God Who Loves You

It must be troubling for the god who loves you
To ponder how much happier you’d be today
Had you been able to glimpse your many futures.
It must be painful for him to watch you on Friday evenings
Driving home from the office, content with your week—
Three fine houses sold to deserving families—
Knowing as he does exactly what would have happened
Had you gone to your second choice for college,
Knowing the roommate you’d have been allotted
Whose ardent opinions on painting and music
Would have kindled in you a lifelong passion.
A life thirty points above the life you’re living
On any scale of satisfaction. And every point
A thorn in the side of the god who loves you.
You don’t want that, a large-souled man like you
Who tries to withhold from your wife the day’s disappointments
So she can save her empathy for the children.
And would you want this god to compare your wife
With the woman you were destined to meet on the other campus?
It hurts you to think of him ranking the conversation
You’d have enjoyed over there higher in insight
Than the conversation you’re used to.
And think how this loving god would feel
Knowing that the man next in line for your wife
Would have pleased her more than you ever will
Even on your best days, when you really try.
Can you sleep at night believing a god like that
Is pacing his cloudy bedroom, harassed by alternatives
You’re spared by ignorance? The difference between what is
And what could have been will remain alive for him
Even after you cease existing, after you catch a chill
Running out in the snow for the morning paper,
Losing eleven years that the god who loves you
Will feel compelled to imagine scene by scene
Unless you come to the rescue by imagining him
No wiser than you are, no god at all, only a friend
No closer than the actual friend you made at college,
The one you haven’t written in months. Sit down tonight
And write him about the life you can talk about
With a claim to authority, the life you’ve witnessed,
Which for all you know is the life you’ve chosen.

Carl Dennis, “The God Who Loves You” from Practical Gods. Copyright © 2001 by Carl Dennis.

Between courses.

Welcome to your own kitchen, thank you for dining at home. Your chef is your server, and tipping is welcomed. Though, no money is accepted. (Nudge-nudge, wink-wink.)

I'm sitting at my kitchen table, having just eaten a divine salad of red onion, greens, a tiny dab of bleu cheese, and some crunchy hearts of palm. Now I'm between courses, and Todd is working on a wine sauce for some beef he's roasting. No, it's really not on the Body-for-Life plan, but it's certainly a celebration meal. My SEVEN interviews went wonderfully well. Every time I think, "There's just no way I'll find another team as amazing as the one I'm working with now..." it happens. I meet more amazing people. Every single person was smart, talented, and driven. And most of them also came equipped with a sense of humor. After a few of the interviews, the manager (who I'd already spoken with) came back and said, "Now, there's a bit of concern among the team members. They wanted to ask if you're able to provide a certain amount of 'sick and twisted' to the mix." WOO HOO!

This was the perfect time to let them in on the secret that I only have about six hours per day of "normal" and that's sort of a rare day. He was pleased, and indeed indicated that six hours may have been a few more than most of the team was able to accomplish. I assured him that the six hours don't happen consecutively.

It would appear that beef and polenta is coming my way, so I'll close for now. More later, including how I tipped the chef. You know, if it isn't too personal.

Off to see the wizard. Or something like that.

Somehow, it seems that Monday is upon me again.

This week there will be new things in my life... including the beginning of a new pursuit of physical and spiritual health. I had originally planned on doing a course called Mastery through the same company I did my leadership coaching program, but decided to choose something else. Some friends of mine and I are going to pursue some education, including inviting a teacher or two to hang with us for a weekend retreat. Also, I found a retreat in Virginia in January that has some speakers I want to hear. Todd wants to go back to the church on 16th and Delaware near our house. I'm up for that, too.

And Tina and I are starting the daily workout before office hours. GAH! Wish me discipline.

AND my soul sister and I are starting Body-for-Life. I have GOT to plan for that tomorrow, or the whole schedule will be thrown off.

Yes, I know this entry was thrilling.

Love!

Fourth day of a diet, indeed.

I neglected to post yesterday, as was my vague idea, but apparently not my intention.

I've been scheduled for seven interviews on Tuesday, for a the job (within corporate America) that I love. I've been doing the identical job for a different team for the last four months or so, filling in for a woman who has been on maternity leave. I LURVE this job, and am looking forward to doing it on a more permanent basis.

Let us back up. SEVEN interviews. One day. Sounds fun, no? Actually, what's funny is I do not mind interviews one bit. Maybe it's the performer in me, and maybe it's that this is actually the job I want as long as I'm hanging around an office anyway. (The position is Editor of a Brand Team. EDITING AND MARKETING. Life is sweet sometimes, you know?) In any case, I don't mind an interview or two. Or seven.

I have more things to say about work, but right now, I'm going back upstairs to lie down and read some more. I'm home alone, it is silent, and I'm not obligated to do anything but read.

Slice o' heaven, as far as I can tell.

Love!

Congratulations, anonymous commenter.

Congratulations, you win! You've irritated me enough that I'm dedicating a post to YOU. Enjoy this attention, as this is all you get.

To answer all of your comments and questions at once, here you go:

• I don't know your identity by name, but I do know it by character. I learned this by your actions, i.e., the following: You started by questioning my love for an loyalty to God. You followed that up with an exaggeration of my failed relationships that was meant to be demeaning. Then, you hinted that you might want physical affection from me. (I did take that as a very lame joke.) I don't require anyone of your character anywhere in my life.
• You are a festival of judement from marriages, to swearing, to drinking.
• You've talked in your comments as though you know me and my family, yet do not reveal your name.
• You've spelled my name wrong, which is a sign of laziness among other things.
• You don't pay attention when you read me, as I didn't say I "still wanted to have kids."
• The time when I'll allow you to comment on my blog again is "never."
• Your use of "........................." is ridiculous. There is no such punctuation in English.

You're, of course, welcome to keep reading and commenting. However, I will continue to ignore comments from anonymous readers.

At the behest of Christel.

Once upon a lovely time, Lola and I drove down to Dande’s house in West Virginia, -- where Christel had already arrived -- for a visit. I must confess that I was one wornthehellout girl when we arrived because, Lola? Fucking hilarious. She made me laugh about every 45 seconds the entire way from Louisville to BFE.

When we arrived, we piled out of the car with all our worldly goods, and into Dande’s dining room, where we commenced the tequila shots. (If you know me in person, you know that practically everything makes me hot: too many layers of clothes, the room being three degrees warmer than I prefer, pantyhose, summer, etc. Christel always says I should come visit her in Texas, but she’s afraid that unless I sleep in a chest freezer I’ll spontaneously combust. She’s probably right. I digress.) So, of course, I announced to the room that “tequila makes me hot!” Dande parried with “tequila makes me naked!” She totally won, yes?

Our darlin' Dande, who is also Holly Homemaker on Crack, made the most delicious foods for our collective consumption, including Heavenly Hummus (I just named it that), and various baked products which were all good enough to transport us from her darlin' house in the holler directly to paradise. We ate and ate. And, in order to combat our heartbreak over the fact that Allie wasn't able to join us for this visit, Dande, her fab hubby, Christel, Lola, and I drank to excess. Oh man, did we ever. I don't remember many of the hilarious things that were said and done that evening, but I certainly do recall that I stupidly and happily consumed no fewer than three shots of tequila, something like four margaritas (two shots tequila each AND triple sec), and, just for good measure, two beers. (Two beers?)

Let's just say that the next morning I only survived because Dande's dude made me lots of fried foods. I swore off drinking for.ever. Because, to quote Christel -- who was 100% correct -- I was s. t. rugglin'.

We did all manner of silly girl things that day, including shopping at the town's major retailer, The Dollar General. Mostly, I spent lots of time lying on the blow up mattress in the living room. Naturally, later that night, we went to Redneck Karaoke (Dande named it that.) Further, I drank about seven beers. (Seven?!)

In any case, we piled home after singing Earl Had to Die at the top of our lungs in a group, of course, and ate more ridiculous greasy things. Not the least of which was the delicious snack I made up because I am a dork: squirt cheese on Lay's potato chips. Yum.

I miss you girls. All y'all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I realized after I was nearly asleep that I left out an important part of this story! The best part of Lays and squirt cheese is that I was sitting right by Christel, in the same damn chair, and we were giggling and snorting with glee!!!!!!!!

No matter HOW happy you are with your lovin' man...

...there are days. And on those days, THIS (from my soul sister) is hilarious!

The world's shortest fairy tale

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?" The girl said "NO!" And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled more, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself. She went to the theater, never watched sports, never wore friggin' lacy lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time.

THE END

11 p.m. again!

This post is just to keep my word on blogging daily for 30 days. (Or 60 or 90 or a year, as I'm prayerfully considering.) I'm sleepy and going to have a nice nap now. I'm taking suggestions on tomorrow's blog entry. You know, requests. The only thing I won't do is House of the Rising Sun. (Hi, mom!)

I continue to be grateful for breath, peace, and challenge.

BIG love!

Some thoughts for 11:00 p.m.

What is your vision? If someone pointed a weapon, say, a gun, at your head, and insisted that you reveal the vision you have for your life and the world you live in, what would you say? Do you have any idea what your vision is?

I'd like to suggest that your vision is at least partly what you currently have. So, if you're living in a (super cool) duplex on Pennsylvania St., that's your vision. And by "you," I mean me. I know that part of my vision is to live in a duplex on Penn, with my a-dorable boyfriend and our dog, to struggle with my weight, to seek God and a relationship with Her (hi, fundamentalists!), to dig deep and get honest about my ability to partner with someone for the rest of my life (hi, those who judge my divorces!), to discover what my calling is (I think I just may know!), to pray with raw honesty about my desire -- or lack thereof -- to have children, and to begin contributing purposefully with all the gifts I showed up on this planet possessing. It's an exciting life.

The rest of your vision is the "who" you will be. The who you're preparing to be. The one you know you can be. And by "you", of course, I mean me. The utter magic of this whole thing, I think, is that I already am this person... I'm just figuring out how to conduct myself as her, instead of the bad habits and smokescreens that I live with day to day.

Same for you, you know. You probably already knew this. You already knew you are a rockstar mom or dad, a contributor to your community, a leader, a lover, an athlete. I didn't know these things concretely about myself, until recently. I expect I'll forget sometimes along the way.

Remind me who I am, will you? Remind yourself how amazing you are, too.

BIG love!

Notification

I recently tried to fix the Numbers picture so that we all looked less stretched out horizontally, and now I can't get the damn thing to work at ALL. Every time I post the picture, it cuts Allie off completely. And a Nummas Pitcher just ain't right without us all. So, until I figure it out, the Nummas pic is off.

Love!