Me Too, x2

I was two years old when I was sexually molested for the first time.  Shocking right?  What boy would get off on molesting a toddler of that age?

How far back can you remember?  I can remember back to the age of two years old.  How do I know I was two?  Because around my third birthday, BOTH of my grandmothers died, and I remember both of their funerals very well.  I also remember various times spent with them, as well as other incidents and I had to have been two when they occurred.

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You can say, boys will be boys.  They pulled down my pants, checked out the difference between boys and girls, felt me up, and left me in a field.  I went home crying that the boys pulled down my pants.  My mother didn’t find out until I was eighteen how traumatized that had made me.  I didn’t know that I had been molested and later when I realized what had been done to me, I worried how far they had gone on that day.  I was nineteen when I found out they hadn’t taken my virginity.  However, the trauma had been with me for a long time and it took a long time to come to grips with it, if I ever did.

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You see, even though they were boys, probably curious, it doesn’t excuse the fact that they did this to a helpless little girl.  It affected certain aspects of my life for decades.  That is what victimization does.  It affects that victim mentally, sometimes more so than the physical aspects do.  Yes, they ‘probably’ only pulled down my pants, but how will I ever know?  What if it had been more?  They could have done so much more, and mentally, they did.

I didn’t date until I was sixteen years old.  Not because I wasn’t interested, but because I felt, they weren’t.  Even losing my virginity at nineteen wasn’t because I was in love, but because of low self-esteem.  I thought, erroneously, that it might make me popular.  It took a lot of self-introspection to realize a lot of things about myself.  The first of which, it wasn’t MY fault.

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Many others who have been victims go on to punish themselves in so many ways.  From self-harm, to other worse decisions that affect their entire lives.  I refuse to play the victim.  I tell you this story because it happens, even at an early age.

From an early age I was aware of the difference between men and woman.  Not just the physical differences, but the way they are treated.  It was the boys against the girls in our household.  Mom tried to prevent that, but Dad encouraged it and laughed at it.  Girls were ‘non-persons’ and only good for ‘women’s work,’ boys were the princes and allowed to do whatever the heck they wanted.  That disparity, early on, pissed me off.  Fortunately, my mother was strong enough to raise a strong woman in me and, I hope, I overcame a lot of that.  Dealing with my brothers these days, I just simply do not engage, refuse to do what they ‘think’ I should, and I certainly don’t stay in my place as they ‘think’ I should.  As a result, they have labeled me a troublemaker, a bitch, difficult, and worse.  That’s fine, they don’t pay my bills, and they certainly don’t live in my house.  I’m independent and I speak my mind.  God forbid I have an opinion.  As a result, we rarely interact anymore and I’m happier as a result.

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There are a lot of things I could say about both scenarios, from the mental abuse of my father and brothers who are chauvinistic, misogynistic, narcissists to the little boys who mentally scarred me, the point I am trying to make is it doesn’t define who I am and who I have become.  I’m aware of it, I refuse to cater to it, and I raised two boys who I think are better for having an understanding mother.  Let’s hear it for the survivors, the ones who didn’t let it destroy their lives!

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It’s coming to get me!

I swear, I’m not paranoid…but, that being said, there is proof in the posting! 
I raise a lot of plants, probably because my father was a botanist with a degree in biology and a couple courses shy of being a zoologist.  I can’t tell you how many trees I’ve planted over the years.  Seeing those same trees 30 years later from the time when I used to jump over them as a child to an adult where I’d have to climb them (if I wanted to break something, not only on the tree but my body).  It’s awesome to know there is a living legacy growing out there, somewhere, even if we don’t own the land anymore.  My father grew up during the depression and helped after the great fires of northern Wisconsin to replant those areas.  After seeing what happened after Mount St. Helens blew, I’m sure Mother Nature would have re-seeded the areas nicely, however, the State of Wisconsin planted acres of trees, heck, more than that and now, eighty plus years later, they are tall and strong.  Personally, I don’t like neat little rows but prefer a variance, a natural look.

Well, back to the point of this blog, and there is one, I assure you.

It’s coming to get me, and here is picture proof.20171014_124101_Burst01

I grow a lot of spider plants, have a Christmas Cactus, and a few other odds and ends.  My aunt gave me a couple of cuttings of a purple passion plant last year when I was down in Arkansas and it survived the drive back to WisconSIN.  One of the cuttings died in the pot, but, some plants do not do well here in this house.  There is something about it, and no, I don’t have a black thumb but a green one.  But, one of the cuttings started growing crazily this year and as I type in bed because of my bad back, I gaze out the window and in front of the window are all my plants, all in hanging baskets, on a stand my son and I made.  I had to do it like this because when Kitkat was alive, she enjoyed mowing plants down.  Now that she is gone I could place them around the house, but, my window gets the most sun in my northern facing house and my window faces south.  The plants that do survive in my house include three varieties of spider plants that I really enjoy.  It gets pretty lush.

Maybe it’s because of what I feed them.  They don’t get straight water since the village puts chemicals in it, supposedly for our health (I don’t drink it either, shudders).  Instead, I feed my plants water from my fish tanks, the bottom water that I siphon out to clean my tanks.  This nutrient rich water is full of plant matter and fish droppings.  Sometimes I will filter THIS through a plant set up where it goes through nutrient rich dirt and into a bucket (what can I say, I’m a mad scientist).  My plants seem to love it.  Even the water that goes INto these fish tanks stands in a five gallon bottle for weeks until the chemicals dissaperate, or rather evaporate.

I don’t understand why some plants don’t like the aura of this house.  Personally, I no longer like the aura either but that is neither here nor there.  I moved here with a couple of absolutely HUGE succulents that were the sizes of bushes, jade plants to be exact and they BOTH died in this house.  I also moved here with a couple of display of Mother-in-Law Tongues, aka Snake Plants and sometimes called Sword Plants that had been cuttings from my grandmother and the plants were over 40 years old!  All died in this house and I was heartbroken.  I didn’t (then) feed them the water from my tanks but that was how I learned the water out of the tap was BAD!  As I said, the aura is bad and I need to move on, taking my ‘few’ plants with me.  My sword plants once were in one of those half wine barrels and I got them to bloom!  Apparently they bloom once every seven years but I had so many in that barrel they bloomed EVERY year, man that is the most sickening flower smell you ever want to smell!  Someone once offered me $400 for that half-barrel, but, we had a freeze that night before he could come pick it up!

My dream home would have an arboretum, a sun room, or just fantastic windows to grow plants!  Btw, this is what a Purple Passion plant is SUPPOSED to look like, not the one vine reaching out to GET me!Purple-Passion

Meanwhile, I wait for this purple passion plant, the one vine is over seven feet long!  I can see it ‘hesitating’ in its growth of where it’s going to go.  In the evening it is leaning towards my right as it might head back towards the window it grew up, it’s vine thickening as it grows.  In the morning it leans towards my left and as if it is contemplating whether or not it will head towards me at the headboard of my bed.  It’s a smart thing too, it has now figured out it will get added support/strength by resting on top of the post that holds up all the plants (except for those hanging from the curtain rod).

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So, if I don’t appear on social media someday, you know, it GOT me!

Meanwhile, if you want to read about more interesting stories than my domestic ones, please click on the picture below:

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The Electric Bug Zapper!

Several years ago, merely as a novelty, I bought an electric fly zapper for camping. OLYMPIATS103_02

I didn’t think it would really work, or that it would last, but damned if it didn’t on both counts.  I brought it along, showed it off to my siblings that we were camping with, and my brother asked to use it.  Zap, ZAP, it worked.  The kids all had to try it.  My brother even touched it with his finger only to prove that two AA batteries really make a difference and are strong enough to zap your bare fingers too.  He teased and was teased to try it with his tongue, gross (bug guts).  8f1e33b7d4f39e4b8ce25cb1977a1753The thing with an electric fly zapper is that the object of your annoyance, a flying insect just has to touch those wires while you are pressing down on the button that activates it and ZAP, they are fried!  The thing people don’t realize is that you don’t have to swat it like the old-fashioned ones, merely wave it and hope to hit the bug, even marginally will put it down and then you can swat it, ZAP and actually put it out of its misery.  You don’t have to bang it on the table or whatever is in the way, you can (and they have) broken the handle because of the things they hit instead of the bugs.  After a while I had to replace the batteries, but it took years to have to replace the first and then the second fly zapper from over-zealous children.

81imqQgZ0jL._SL1500_Last year I was in a store and saw one, these are relatively cheap, for $5.  Since they are usually around $7 or various prices (my research shows) I bought one.  I’d thrown out the last one, god knows when.  I didn’t open it for months from its plastic packaging.  It just sat there, looking all shiny.

Well, recently I was invaded.  Capture I don’t know if they are gnats or fruit flies and I don’t know why except it’s that time of year.  I don’t leave out fruit or food, and my garbage is covered so why were they so prevalent?  I don’t have pets or a cat pan to attract them either.  It was just annoying when they would buzz around my head or straight at me and up my nose.  Especially when I’m writing!  I knew they had to go!  They seemed attracted to my screen on my laptop but I wasn’t swatting at that!  So, I unpackaged the shiny new fly zapper and put in two AA batteries.

Now, I’m not saying I’m obsessive or anything but, that night, I went hunting.  Hitting one of those buggers (pun intended) mid-flight is so satisfying.  The ZAP, ZAP really does something for you when you hear it.  The sight of an electric charge crackling out like lightening is pretty cool too.  Occasionally I got two with one swipe!  I swear, that night, I got at least eighteen of them.  I knew there had to be more and carried that swatter around even after the hunt.  I set up a trap by putting a bucket in the middle of the room that seemed to have the most (for reasons unknown) and they were not in my plants either (for those of you that would suggest they were laying eggs or something-gross).  In this bucket I put a banana peel.  It worked.  Those little guys flocked to it and I must have gotten five of them by holding the zapper over the bucket and shaking it back and forth as they flew out of the bucket and directly into my screen.

When my girlfriend phoned the next morning, after a night of very little sleep between hunting and work, I said in an Elmer Fudd voice, “Be berry berry qwiet, we are huntin’ bugs!”  I don’t think she was awake enough to appreciate my sense of humor.

 

15594f063c78b4450fcd4ad1ce2bfbcb--funny-humor-funny-stuffOne day while I was typing away on the computer, out of the corner of my eye I kept seeing one land on my Christmas cactus.  Did you know that those fronds will set off the charge too, it was neat!  Also, it will kill the ends of plants like spider plants if you zap them into the screen.

I’m not proud that I had bugs (gross), but I got rid of them in a funny way.  Occasionally I’ll still see one fly by, I think they get through the mosquito screens and are looking for food or something this time of year, but when I do, I bring out my bug zapper!  Btw, purely for educational purposes, I researched this and there is a rechargeable version! $_10

If you want more interesting stories than this one, read my books!  You can find them by clicking on the artwork below:Display.jpg

What to expect when you’re not expecting…

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Get your attention?  Well, it’s an impossibility that at the esteemed age of fifty that I would be expecting.  Also, I happen to be a lesbian and unless my girlfriend wants to do some heavy explaining about how this could possibly happen, I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna worry about it in the least.  Also, my ‘baby’ is 27 and I’m pretty sure this baby fat I’m trying to lose, isn’t gonna go away at this point…

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Explaining this to doctors and nurses whose duty it is to ask the question, “Could you possibly be pregnant?” always elicits the humor inside me as I make them squirm.  I do point out the age factor (which, as the National Enquirer and other tabloids will tell you, IS possible.  Also, my doctor has told me about fifty-year-old’s who have had happy accidents at this point in their life.)  I hope to never have to worry about that.  The lesbian factor alone assures me that my birth-control methods should be safe, lol.  Plus, the fact that I’ve chemo and radiation should assure me that I’m sterile, but they did warn that the body is a wondrous healing organism and the forced menopause I went through in my thirties, fighting cancer, wasn’t enough.  In my forties, I went and had an ablation for the return of my period and the doctor KEPT warning me I could STILL get pregnant.  It actually angered me as I had told her of my lesbian status.  Instead, she kept harping on not only the fact that I could get pregnant, but that I could become pregnant when (not if) I was sexually assaulted (nice phrasing for RAPE~!).  To shut her up, I finally asked, ‘Do I have THAT to look forward to?”  It made her uncomfortable enough that she stopped harping on it and finally agreed to the procedure.  I’m still rolling my eyes on that.

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The thing is, when you expect things, and the unexpected happens…which, is life…you can either learn to roll with the punches or fight against it.  I find it an adventure to see what’s about to happen next.  My books do that for me, I never know initially where they are going to take me or what they are going to say and do as my characters take over and I write avidly to find out.  I too am a reader, I can’t wait to see what they are going to do or say.

Fortunately for me, my characters talk a lot, in fact, I’m seriously considering writing a VETTED II as there are a lot of things that can still happen to these two, including, the subject of this blog, expecting.  So, expect some more from this exciting new adventure…

If you get a chance, check out my current offering:

Vetted Final Cover

And, look for this one, later this fall:

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Cooking for One

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Eating alone is not fun.  I frequently post on social media about my cooking mistakes and catastrophe’s.  I used to do it in the hope that some femme would take pity on me and I’d end up with a girlfriend who not only cooks, but would take care of me.

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Fortunately for me, my girlfriend not only cooks but bakes, and enjoys doing so.  She even sends care packages that allows me to share in her baking endeavors.  I have yet to eat one of her prepared meals I hear about, but, someday, I know I will.  She is caring and loving and I know the same will go into her meals.

Those who think I can’t cook don’t realize it isn’t that I can’t, it’s that I won’t.  There is a distinct difference.  Cooking, when I do it, is terrible when there is only you, or your pets, to appreciate it.  As I no longer have pets, it’s even more lonely.  I actually can cook and do so with gusto when I have the urge.  I usually make too much and then end up with massive leftovers that I eat for days.  Another bad side-effect because you actually get SICK of whatever you prepare.  I try to freeze the meals into convenient one-meal sized containers.  Last fall I even bought a second set in order to make enough to last me.  It really did too, the meals lasted more than a month.

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I have yet to prepare a meal for my girlfriend as the opportunity hasn’t arisen.  I do think of the meals I could prepare because she is a vegetarian and I, am not.  It should prove to be quite the challenge.  We shall see how that works out.  She never slips.  She’s healthy and slim and very dedicated to her life style…at least for a dozen or more years!  Now that’s dedication!

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I write in some of my books about the meals, I actually research these things, not eating the meals themselves too often, but enough that it makes it feel real.  Many times as I’m writing it I find myself hungry.  It really is hard not to snack instead of eating a complete meal.  I frequently find myself eating smaller meals and more often, they tell me that is healthier anyway…right.

If you get a chance, check out my latest offering, cooking is a challenge for one of the characters and I can relate…

Unexpectedly Funny

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I think I’m funny, I certainly hope I am.  My family, and girlfriend, frequently tell me I’m not…but, that’s to keep me from becoming too big-headed, right?  Actually, I joke a lot, kid, and am sarcastically funny.  It’s inherited.  My mother was funny and I watched my older brothers being hilarious.  To survive, you had to develop a thicker skin and be able to sling the quips back with equal if not better smackdowns.  There is a fine line between being sarcastic and being insulting.  As a child, you frequently go over that line and get yelled at for it.  The phrase, “I was ‘just kidding’, is a familiar one, as you learn that delicate balance.

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I think of humor as a coping mechanism.  I used to be a lot more quick-witted and before I got chemo-brain I had the comebacks down to an art.  I used to think I was as quick as Robin Williams.  That man was brilliant in how he would go off on a tangent based on something someone said.  I loved his ability to make something out of nothing and it was always funny.  I could do that, then.  I see it now in my son and wish I could have the snappy comebacks I once did.   I genuinely have humor-envy when those boys of mine get on a roll.  I do appreciate it.

My girlfriend tells me I’m funny in my own mind, which makes us both laugh when she says it.  Her humor is quite different than mine.  I don’t know if it’s because she’s a New Englander and I from the Midwest, but the cultural differences between us, the things we find out that are very different, are quite humorous.

When I am writing my books, I never set out to be deliberately funny, I’m fortunate that it comes out at the right time, or, at least, I hope it does.  I remember when I wrote Doctored, I thought of some really funny incidents that my character could tell about and used them.

“So these guys are lugging in my supplies on their backs and on donkeys, and I didn’t realize why I was tied up to the donkey.  You know, led by a rope?”  Deanna was regaling them with stories of her travels and they all smiled appreciatively at her description.  “It was as I slipped off the narrow trail face first into the mud and started sliding down the steep slope, hitting tropical plants with my unmentionables, that I realized…that rope that kept me from falling down the mountainside.  That was a good idea!”

They all started laughing, nearly choking on the beers they were sharing.  “Oh, my gawd, Deanna!  Did that really happen?” Magda wiped the tears away from the corner of her eye as she smiled at the story.

Deanna nodded.  “Yeah, I’ve been to some pretty funky places.  But you know what?  It’s one of the greatest things about what I do, seeing the sights.  When they hauled my ass back up with that taut rope, I looked at that donkey and the phrase ‘kiss my ass’ had a whole new meaning.”

They all collapsed into laughter again at her imagery.

I am told that my current release is amusing, loving, and dramatic.  I hope so.  The amusing part is a surprise because I didn’t set out to do that at all, but when I hear from fans that the book made them laugh out loud (LOL), it pleases me no end…even unintentional humor I’m all for.CaptureIf you get a chance, I’d love to hear your opinion on my efforts at writing, and, apparently humor.

Check out Vetted here:

Vetted Final Cover

And, if you enjoy it, check out Doctored here:

Doctored

 

 

I HEART LESFIC

The prolific K’Anne Meinel is here today. Woot! She’s offering free copies of Vetted, her latest release. One winner will be selected by I Heart Lesfic. To enter the giveaway hosted by I Heart Lesfic, scroll to the bottom of this post for details. There will be two additional winners, but you have to act […]

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