Moving in with "Psycho"

Next up on the psycho roommate adventure is the actual reason why I moved in with said psycho roommate. Now, I don't blame anyone, not even my parents for making me continue to live with her for a whole year, as I really do think it was a very good life lesson learned: You can't win with crazy. But you sure can piss them off.

For two years, I shared a one bedroom apartment with a girl I met at a community college in Redding. We had one class together, and somehow it worked out that we were moving to Chico at the same time. She turned out to be the perfect roommate. Half the time she stayed at her boyfriend's (now her husband) apartment, kitty-corner to our apartment. She payed her half of everything and she was hardly ever there. To top it off, we actually got along. She asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. And we're still friends; we get together for lunch once or twice a year. Now, I was very upset when she graduated two years ahead of me. With her graduating and doing student teaching back home, I was out a roommate.

I tried talking my best friend into moving in and filling the roommate gap. No matter how I asked, she finally said no. Apparently she hated Chico with every fiber of her being and had to get out. So I was still out a roommate. As I mentioned in the Intro to Suzi, I had classes with her, so of course this topic came up a few times. Here's how Suzi needed a roommate:

For at least a couple years, she had been living with her boyfriend. Seemed like a nice guy, but really, he kinda gave me the creeps. Suzi had a plan. She was going to vet school. She was going to get married. She wanted to be married before she went off to vet school. So her brilliant plan of action was to give her boyfriend what every boyfriend really wants - an ultimatum. Apparently she told him around October or November that if he didn't propose by New Years, it was over. Guess who never got her engagement ring? Yep. Shocker, eh? A group of us told her it was a bad idea, that it would backfire and she'd be single. Her answer was "Whatever, then I guess it wasn't meant to be." If it was meant to be you wouldn't even consider giving an ultimatum. If you believe it's the only way to get married, then um, you'll never get married. So, come spring semester, I find out from Suzi herself that her boyfriend broke up with her over the ultimatum deal and she was forced to continue to live with him since he couldn't break his lease and didn't have anyone to take over said lease. I said to her, "Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that", when I was really thinking "You dumb ass. You made your bed, now you can lie in it." Not to mention I was probably doing the Grace Adler "I told you so" dance from Will & Grace.

Sometime during that spring semester was when I found out for sure my best friend wasn't going to stick around Chico. And June was looming. Somehow, Suzi and I got the idea into our heads that I could take over her boyfriend's portion of the lease and therefore, I wouldn't be homeless. And she'd be officially rid of him. Again, she had a three bedroom apartment, so I kept insisting that we get a third roommate. It would make the rent so much cheaper, and utilities. After nearly forcing this on her, she finally relented and found another friend of hers that was looking for an apartment. Suzi had us meet to make sure we'd be compatible. We got along great.

I think that was the start of some of the issues. The thing about the number 3 is that in most cases, someone gets left out. In this case, more often than not, it was Suzi. The three of us hung out some during the latter part of spring so we could all get to know each other a little, and make double-sure that we'd all get along as roommates. "Betty" (anonymity, folks) and I got along really well. So well that we both started noticing things about Suzi. Odd things. On occasion we would talk about these odd things at length. We found that in many cases, Suzi would make a claim, or state a "fact" that she believed in yet couldn't (or in some cases refused) necessarily back them up with an actual fact or source.

One thing Suzi insisted on before we moved in with her was to sit down and go over the "house rules". With Suzi's mother present. Yes, you read that right. No, I'm not joking. Betty and I thought it was a complete waste of time. Here are normal roommate house-rules: clean up your own shit and don't bother me. Works great for most folks. Apparently in Suzi's world, things had to be discussed. Especially the boy issue. Now, at the time, Betty and I were both dating - in long distance relationships. Suzi insisted that no boys stay over. Betty and I thought was majorly lame-o considering we were all adults. We argued that if our boyfriends were in town, they could stay the night, but we just let everyone know that "there will be a boy in the house". (BTW, neither of our boyfriends ever laid eyes on that apartment). And besides, how could she insist "no boys allowed" when she had just, oh I don't know, lived with her boyfriend for, like, two years? Exactly. She also insisted that we do our own dishes. Duh. And the front door had to be locked at all times. According to Suzi's mother, we lived directly on Nord Ave. (which, Betty and I both figured out because we have excellent observational and deductive skills), one of Chico's busiest streets and college kid central - we never knew what kind of crazy person might try to get in. Betty and I argued that if someone wanted to get in, the flimsy apartment lock isn't going to stop someone; but that in our current places, the doors were locked, so it really wouldn't be much of an issue. Suzi's mother was adamant - I thought she'd make us sign something in blood. And lastly (and oddly included), was that nothing personal would be in the living room - all "personal" items would be kept in our respective rooms. This meant no pictures in the living room. No CD's. No personal, homey touches at all. I think I heard the Twilight Zone music in my head. I mean, that's just weird. Suzi also needed to know what to call us. In reality, "Betty" and I have the same name, so yes, it can be confusing, so we both had to come up with a nickname she could call us for the year. And we each got our own color of pen for the whiteboard in the kitchen. Plus, she also needed to know if we would share things like condiments, or if we would purchase our own. I'm sorry, but is there really a need to have 3 jars each of ketchup, mayo, and mustard in the fridge? Let me think - no. She already had the huge Brita tank in the fridge and the PUR tap filter. Betty and I didn't think we really needed anymore redundancy. In the end, the meeting was a waste of a good two hours.

June came upon me faster than I could blink. I had planned a trip to Colorado to see my then-boyfriend while he was working at an internship. Unfortunately my planning skills needed some work. The day after I got back, I moved. No rest for the weary. I moved in a week or two before Betty. My room was in the back of the apartment, across the hall from Suzi's. I managed to fit my daybed, huge computer desk, one night stand, my TV, and dresser in a room maybe half the size that I had in the one bedroom I had shared before. It took one step to get from my bed to the computer desk. Two steps from bed to closet.

Little did I know that I'd wind up locked up in that tiny room for a whole year to keep my sanity intact.

The things people say . . . to you.

Did you ever notice that people can have a very real effect on you? Good, bad, ugly - it doesn't really matter, they all get in your head. Most people I know (whether it's family, friends, etc.), tell me I'm a nice person, a good person. I have my moments like everyone else. I have moments that I'm selfish in my decision. There are things about me that others don't understand, and for the life of me I have the hardest time defending those things. I have opinions, some very strong, some are just an "in general" sort of thing. So, why is it, that when someone says something negative about you to you that your mind feasts on it? It kind of becomes the eternal "chewing the cud" that all ruminants do. Your mind won't stop feasting on it, it just keeps regurgitating it so it can chew on it some more until you don't even recognize it anymore.

For some reason, the negative seems easier to believe. I know, that in general, I am a good person. I would do anything for my family and friends. I volunteer. I work hard at my job. I also know, that in general, I'm human and I have many faults. Some more prominent than others. I live with my faults and I accept them. We all have them. Our families still love us, even though we're not perfect. Our best friends still choose to spend time with us - in public even. They choose to listen to our complaints, our worries, our fears, our everything. And we in turn listen to theirs. It's a game of give and take.

So, when someone who the definition of "jerk" says something or does something negative to you, why is it so easy to believe that it's true? That you really are as horrible as they make it seem? How can they possibly effect you so much that it can take years to get over? When in reality, you should say to yourself, "That person's an ass. They're wrong about me. I'm not as horrible as they make me seem." Should. Operative word. What does happen in reality is more like this, "Wow. I had no idea I was that wrong. I really am a bad person. I should just sit here in my wrongness and be wrong." And you keep repeating it until it's ingrained in your mind and it won't leave.

My best friend and I had similar experiences, with very different people. And it's taken years to figure things out. Lots of talking things over, trying to reason why someone would say such things to us. My experience was with the asshole of an ex-boyfriend I dated my last year of college. I remember things started out okay, he was a nice guy. And somehow things started to change. One day he'd come home in a bad mood because he had a lousy day. That's fine, it happens to us all. Over time, he'd treat me bad, and somehow it evolved into being my fault. It was my fault he couldn't sleep, because I didn't like sleeping with the TV on. It was my fault he couldn't fix the computer because I was watching him. It was my fault I found a job out of town even though he encouraged me and let me use his computer for job hunting. My favorite thing he ever said to me that stuck with me was this: "Why would I go to an amusement park with just you? You'd be boring there." This happened after I found out I got a job in Sacramento, and was moving in two weeks. I wanted us to spend some time, just us, before I moved. I had bought the tickets and everything. I wound up going with my mom, and we had a blast. And you know what? I still dated the guy another six months.

When the relationship ended, I cried. A lot. After awhile though, I realized I wasn't crying because I missed him. I was crying because I hated him. With every fiber of my being. I was so angry with him for treating me like he did. But I was angrier with myself. That I allowed him to treat me like that for so long. But the things he said to me, like "You'd be boring at an amusement park" stuck with me. They gnawed at me. Oddly enough, all this comes from me having a dream two weeks ago, and it dawned on me yesterday while putting on my make-up, what that dream was really about.

I was consciously aware that I was dreaming. I remember the feeling I had during the dream. I remember questioning everything in the dream while I was dreaming. None of it made any sense whatsoever. In my dream, I was out on date with a guy that I went out with on a few dates this spring. This person in reality is a very nice person, and in his presence I never once felt the way I did in this one dream. I always felt good and happy around him. In this dream I felt meek and wrong. He was constantly exasperated with me, being around me, and having to deal with me. In the dream we went to a total of three restaurants, each one had massive issues. One he just didn't want to eat at, another was about as loud as a circus, and the next one it took forever to get a table. But everywhere we went, I couldn't really speak up, I knew something was wrong and it was my fault. At the last restaurant, we finally get a table, but it's dirty - dishes with food still on them, glasses with drinks still in them litter the table. I finally catch up and start questioning why we have to sit at a dirty table when there are dozens of perfectly clean tables around us. This person, his wonderful face that, in reality, often times has a smile on it, began to lecture me in my dream about my desire to eat at a clean table. The alarm goes off.

Putting on my make-up is a mundane task every day. I barely think about it as I do it anymore. I had put the dream out of my mind for days, but it hit me while putting on my make-up. The guy that had been so horrible to me wasn't really the nice guy that took me to dinner a few times in the spring. It was Joe Schmoe wearing this guys face. Joe Schmoe had become the proverbial snake in the grass. I was . . . I am that afraid of even a wonderful person like Mr. Nice Guy would turn into Joe Schmoe. After all these years. People seek therapy for this shit.

I have dated a handful of guys since Joe Schmoe, and all of them have been very nice guys. The relationships didn't work out because they didn't. Not because the guy was an asshole, but because we really weren't that into each other. Or distance. Or whatever.

And whatever my faults, I am not boring at an amusement park dammit.

Um, awkward . . .

As I've mentioned before, I'm attempting the world of online dating. Yes, "peek-a-boo" still happens. Often. More often than I wish. There are so many times I want to write on my profile something akin to "Don't just view me, email me!" But I don't want to seem "pushy". Or any other choice words for that matter.

However, there is something far more awkward than someone playing "peek-a-boo" for a month before they decide to contact you or reply to you. I received an email today that said I had new matches. So I went to check them out. Several were too far away, but you have to view the profile in order to close the match, so if they're absolutely adorable or mouth-watering hot and they live 6 hours away from you . . . dude, it sucks. I was about half way through the set I received today, and clicked on a guy from Chico. His profile picture was, first off, a horrible decision. It wasn't a good picture as I had a hard time telling him from his dog. The second picture wasn't much better, although there wasn't a dog in the picture. Third picture literally made my jaw drop. I think I also stopped breathing for a full minute. So, here's where awkward comes in.

I know the guy. I used to work with him while I lived in Chico. He was a nice guy, never had issues with him. My last year there, I hung out with him a lot since he hung out with the guy I dated. At the time, he had a very nice girlfriend that he lived with. Obviously that didn't pan out.

How can this get more awkward?

My asshole of an ex-boyfriend is sitting right next to him in the picture. Not joking.

As soon as the picture came up, all I saw was the jerk. I stammered (once I could catch my breath), "He knows Joe Schmoe???" (totally fake name btw). I looked at the caption which read, "I'm on the left". I looked left. And I recognized the guy who belonged to the profile.

Needless to say, I closed the match.

Introducing the (old) Pyscho Roommate . . .

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. In previous blogs, I've mentioned how bare my cupboards have gotten recently, and how tight of a budget I'm on. Again, I'm not destitute, I'm not in danger of living in my new car. My cat and I will not be homeless. My cat is not in any danger of not being well-fed. I just have to watch my money. And in an attempt at "watching" my money, I feel it best financially to move when my lease is up on my apartment. I will look for "room" basically to rent, maybe in a house. Who knows for sure, I have a few months to figure that part out. But the roommate deal is the reason I'll be moving. Roommates make things cheaper. I love my apartment, my mom helped me paint it. It's the first apartment I've ever made my own, so to speak. But I pay an arm and a leg for it, and with money being tight, it's simply not worth going broke over. I haven't had a roommate since college. And the last one was freakin' psycho. Stupid. Naive. I could keep going. So, in an effort to keep the "rose-colored glasses" off, I think that every so often I will share some Psycho-Suzi stories with you. And hopefully, these stories will help me spot another Suzi.

First off, the introduction to Suzi:

I first met this girl in a Soil Science class at Chico State. And yes, Soil Science is just as boring as it sounds. But I had no choice, it's part of the lower-division core classes for all Ag majors. Sucker, party of one. We had the same lab time. It took a few weeks before I really talked to her. I did notice that she was pretty much the only person to ever ask a single question in Soils. After about two weeks of class, I started doing my math homework during lecture so I didn't have to do it at home. His lecture "notes" were his lecture, word for word. There was no reason to pay serious attention. Plus it was boring. He was boring. It was freaking boring. I thought she was a bit weird, actually asking questions in class, because if I wasn't doing homework from another class, I was watching people fall asleep, watching their heads bob. I don't remember the reason why I joined her and her friend as lab partners, but I did. I just kept thinking she was an odd duck. Her cell phone always seemed to be attached to her. Not in class, obviously, but everywhere else. She always seemed to be on the phone. And she seemed to be interested (or intrigued) by stuff that was popular when we were kids. She said she was Pre-Vet, and she wanted to work with small animals and "pocket pets" (hamsters, rats, etc.).

For the next two years, I had at least one class a semester with her. If we sat close enough, sometimes she'd start passing me notes during lecture about random stuff. Depending on the class, sometimes we'd study or work on a project together. She had a "clapper" for light above her desk. Yeah. Guess what didn't work. The "clapper". She'd keep clapping her hands, even stand right next to the lamp and continue clapping . . . louder. And louder. And louder. There comes a point that, um, maybe you should uninstall the fucking "clapper" so your boyfriend, neighbors and guests don't have to hear you clapping all the damn time. It's just a thought.

Her bedroom was like a child's room. Posters of kittens and puppies. All sorts of stupid little collectible toys from Happy Meals. Tons of stuffed animals. Plus she was obsessed with UC Davis, as that's where she was determined to attend vet school. Her room was simply cluttered with shit. It overwhelmed me the first time I stepped foot in it. I thought, wait, she's how old again?? Her and her boyfriend lived in a three bedroom apartment. The third bedroom was simply storage. Mostly for her crap. Her couch was hard as a freaking rock. Literally. Very uncomfortable. There was a hairless rat in the living room. You read right. A hairless rat. It was the ugliest fucker I'd ever seen in my life. His name was Gus. Yes, like the adorable overweight mouse in Cinderella. Gus had cysts and lumps all over. And to make it better, he was blind. Yep. A blind, hairless, cyst-covered rat named Gus. In the living room.

Oh yes, I should have seen the signs then. The thing is, I never intended to live with her. Not until a couple months before I did. It was more about convenience that anything. Plus, while she was about as strange as a $3 bill, she seemed nice. Seemed. Please take note of that word. I would later find her to be a horrible, insensitive, conniving, petty, stupid, naive bitch. I found out the hard way that the old saying "You don't know someone until you live with them" is so very true.

So, that's the intro to Suzi. Every so often I shall share a Suzi-story with you. Trust me, they're worth it.

Labor Day

In the last few days, I've thought of a few possible titles for my next blog.

"Don't Make Me Call My Mom!"

"Playing the Good Daughter Card"

"My Nana, the Pimp"

"Hold On, Let Me Slow Down for this Corner . . ."

"The World Would Be Better if More People Were Like My Parents"

Each of those, is part of this past weekend. Labor Day weekend. Where a lot of people get a three day weekend. FYI, I wasn't a part of that clique. I didn't really have plans for my weekend, except work Saturday and Sunday nights, and maybe watch the movie that came in from Netflix.

"Don't Make Me Call My Mom!"

On Saturday, Mom called me. We talked about the incident at work on Thursday (the whole donation thing), and somehow in all of that we started joking about who to call to kick some ass if people bothered me. One of them was "Don't make me call my mom", another was "Mom will verbally kick your ass and Dad will physically kick your ass". The joke behind that is I have heard Dad tell people, "Please don't make my wife come down here. She's more mad than I am." That threat usually works. And I've heard Mom say, "You really don't want my husband to deal with this. Trust me." That threat seems to hold, as well. After that, she then asked if I would drive up and visit; even offering to help me out by paying for gas. And I could go with them to Joe's birthday party (long-time family friend). But I couldn't drive up because I had to work Saturday as well as Sunday.

"Playing the Good Daughter Card"

So, Sunday night, it was just me and one other gal, and I kept thinking. Maybe I'll play the "good daughter" and surprise everyone by driving up for Monday. My parents plans had been ruined by my Granny unfortunately getting an infection post-surgery in her knee, and they spent most of Saturday in the ER, only to have her admitted back in the hospital later that evening. This meant that my Dad would have to go live with my Granddad until Granny returned. I know my mom had called on Saturday because she missed me and wanted to visit, and with Granny in the hospital, I knew both of them could use some hugs. I got off work Monday morning, went home and packed a bag, and made sure Miss Harriet had food and water for the night alone. I texted Mom and said I was coming up, and started driving.

I met my parents in the lobby of SRMC, gave and received lots of hugs. They had yet to tell my grandparents that I was coming up. They walked into the room side by side and me behind them. They said, "Surprise!" and I popped up between them. Granny was so thrilled to see me. She had her private room, as is the case any time a patient has any kind of an infection. She even had a recliner to sit in so she didn't have to spend the day in a hospital bed. We all visited for about hour or so, and then my parents had errands to run. We dropped Granddad off at his house for the day, and I went with my parents to grab a bite at In-N-Out. They were super busy, so we went through the Drive-Thru, and parked the truck in the shade of the now abandoned Circuit City. Then if was off to the super exciting store of Lowe's. I know Lowe's is heaven for those who have house or yard projects. I have none of those, and am actually slightly jealous, so Lowe's isn't my idea of a good time. However, my parents weekend got a little wonky, so instead of doing nothing like they had actually planned, they had to play catch-up. After they ordered their pavers for their project, we went back to their house to have a little of relaxing and visiting time in the living room.

"My Nana, the Pimp"

Soon it was time to head back into town to visit with Granny some more and let Granddad buy us some dinner. I said something to Mom about calling Nana to see if she and Sonny were busy on Tuesday so I could swing by and visit before heading back to Sacramento. Unfortunately, Sonny was going to be in surgery to repair the thing that they use for his dialysis. (I have no idea what it's called! Sorry!). So, once got into town and had reception, Mom called Nana to see if she could stop by for a minute. Nana said they were just sitting down to dinner but to still come by. Surprise, Nana! They were thrilled to see me. We only visited for a short while as we still had to get to the hospital. But Nana mentioned (again lol) this guy that works at the dialysis center that she would just love to have as a grandson-in-law. Yes, folks, my Nana wants to set me up on a blind date. We started joking around that Nana was trying to pimp me out. I even told her I'd title my next blog, "My Nana, the Pimp".

"Hold On, Let Me Slow Down for This Corner. . ."

After visiting with Granny during her dinner in the hospital, we (me, my parents, and Granddad) went to Perko's for dinner. Unfortunately, the few handicapped parking spaces were already taken, so my dad had to park farther from the front door than would have been preferred. Now, a smidge of background on this title. While I was visiting with my parents at the house earlier, Dad vented a little about the things that his parents say a zillion times that are no longer super-hilarious. Stories or even one-liners. One of them was "Hold on, let me slow down for this corner." My Granddad has a wooden leg, and now in his late 80's, doesn't walk super-fast. So it's his little joke that if comes around a corner, that he has to slow down so he doesn't tip over. I was holding the door open for Dad and Granddad, Dad letting Granddad lean on his shoulder to help him walk. Coming up on the corner, Granddad says, "Hold on, let me slow down for this corner". My dad shot me a look. I could barely stifle my laughter. Standing in the restaurant behind Dad and Granddad, trying my best not to laugh and my eyes watering because I'm holding in, Mom starts asking if I'm okay. I told her after dinner and we both had a good laugh.

"The World Would Be Better if More People Were Like My Parents"

If anyone were to ask who my hero's would be, two of them would be my parents. If kept going, I would be adding all of my grandparents to this list. I'm not trying to kiss anyone's asses here, it's all the truth. I hardly know more children who do as much for their parents as mine do. With the exception of my best friend. A little background: My dad's parents, Granny and Granddad, worked hard every day of their lives until they retired in the late 1980s. My Granddad used to deliver milk in the small dinky towns of Northern California. In the mid 1940s, he climbed into a truck that had a loaded gun in the cab. Back then the roads were very bumpy . . . do you see where I'm going? In the end, the gun went off and hit Granddad's left arm, rendering it not quite as useful as it once was. Granny had to change the bandages on their honeymoon. In 1949, Granddad crashed a plane he was flying for his pilots license. He broke nearly every bone in his body and was pronounced dead three times. This is proof that the ornery live forever. One leg was amputated at the knee. He has had a wooden leg since then. Doctors told him he'd never walk again. He did. He chased after three kids and delivered milk for 20 years. Fast forward to today, and my parents help them out so much. Mom often spends a portion of her weekend cooking for them so they have food throughout the week. Dad has lunch at their house nearly every day; he helps with their ironing, their grocery shopping, and any other task that needs to be done. If Granny is in the hospital for surgery or anything, Dad lives with Granddad until she's back. When Granny need help after her shoulder/arm surgery a couple years back, Mom went in during the week and helped her shower and dress and whatnot. My parents know my grandparents are grateful for everything they do, and thank my parents often. I, however, don't have one of them say to me, "I don't know what we'd do without them". These are the exact words I heard from Granddad while Dad went to get the car after visiting with Granny at dinner.

While my parents don't have to help my mom's parents anywhere near what they do for my dad's parents, they do still help them out whenever they need help. Mom helped take care of Nana when she had carpal tunnel surgery done on both wrists at the same time. They helped them move last year. Anything Nana and Sonny ask, my parents are happy to help.

To me, that is how life should work. Your parents feed you, clothe you, take care of you, and teach you life lessons. It's only natural that when your parents get older and need help, that you, their child, help them in any way that you can. Too often, children move far away from their parents. In some cases, this is on purpose. In others, it's the job or marriage or some other thing that takes them far away. For the ones that do it on purpose, shame on you. That's no way to repay the kindness your parents bestowed up on you. I know it's hard on my parents, helping take care of their parents. But they still do it. Because they love them.

And love is what should make this world go 'round.

I'd like to thank the Academy . . . Oh, wait, wrong award show, sorry! I'd like to thank my fellow bloggers . . .

I awake this fine morning after having a day (yesterday) where I stewed over something that was said to me at work. After sleeping on it (i.e. being in a coma for 10 hours), I'm better . . . not as upset over it. And what do I find? I find that Jewels has bestowed upon me the Blog with Substance Award, and had this to say:

J. Day and I get along on so many levels. We relate when it comes to dating, our pet peeves, and our take on relationships in general. Her honesty and openness is to be commended and I am so glad that I happened across her blog.

Thank you, Jewels, you made my morning brighter! I'm really honored that you included my blog in your list to pass the Award on to. I'm still so new at all of this, and more often than not I get jealous when I see other people's blogs and think, how do they do that? I wanna do that, too!! LOL So, apparently, with this Award, there are rules I must follow:

1. Thank the blogger who gave me the award: Thank you, Jewels! This was definitely something I did not expect. My blog started as something that was free to help entertain myself with, and perhaps it's turning into something more. I want to find stuff to blog about, now, and am finding other blogs that make me think, laugh, and say, "Hmmm". You definitely made my day!!

2. Sum up your blogging philosophy, motivation, and experience using 5 words: This is me. Just me. :o) (I hope smiley's don't count! Wait, do these words count? Shit. Well, I was never very good at following directions, anyway!)

3. Pass it on to 10 other blogs which you feel have real substance: Well, I'm ashamed to admit this, but I'm still new enough in this blogging world, that I don't yet follow a full 10 blogs! And it wouldn't be fair to just see a new blog and use it for the sake of using it here. The ones that I will mention are blogs that I've been following for at least the last month. My apologies to the Award Rules, but I'm at least passing it on, right? Oh, and a couple of you will get it again (like Jewels and Cinderita), don't think you're getting it again by default, if I followed more than 10 blogs, I'd mention you both anyway! So, here it goes:

1. Jewels Turning 30 : I happened to come across Jewels' blog while perusing the "shameless plug" post that Stef at 52 Weeks of Wordage wrote awhile back. The first post I read of hers spoke of online dating and some crazy dude, and I laughed myself silly. I have so been there! Her blogs may not always send me into giggle fits, but they are something I look forward to every day. To see what she has to share; her openness is refreshing. And it's been nice to realize that even 3000 miles away from me, wonderful people like Jewels have the same kind of stories I have about online dating!

2. The Adventures of Cinderita : I found Cinderita the same way I found Jewels, and probably most other blogs so far! Cinderita is another super-honest and refreshing voice I have found, and her blogs make me think. Hers is another that I look forward to every day, checking my dashboard to see if she's posted anything new. It's amazing to find a complete stranger that, when you read their stuff, it rings a familiar bell.

3. Love Is In the Smog : I have really enjoyed the stories this young lady has to share. Whether it's a botched trip to Vegas or a spoofy video that (horrifically) included Justin Beiber playing in her car. They definitely make me laugh!

4. The Ranters Box : The Empress is right, I was more than likely thinking it anyway, she's just verbalizing it. I nearly fell off the chair laughing over her last post regarding the smoke alarm that, in the end, died a horrible death. Deservedly so. I look forward to seeing what else she has to rant about, because I know it will be true and most definitely entertaining.

5. Rantings and Ravings of a Ranting and Raving Soul : I'm glad I came across this blog, from the blogs I've read, I agree with her on so many things. I even aspire to write my own blog about people who should be punched in the face! I'm still catching up on her older blogs, she's apparently been doing this for awhile! In my opinion she needs to blog more often so I can read more!

6. 52 Weeks of Wordage : Through "Stefers the Great", I have found pretty much every blog I follow. So, Stef, I tip my hat to you. I may not really do the writing exercises, but I still enjoy reading her blog and seeing what things she comes up with. And more than likely, I shall find more blogs to read by reading the comments that people leave on her posts!

7. Simple Dude In A Complex World : I have no idea where he lives, but Simple Dude, I need to meet those neighbors! I enjoy reading his blogs, as I believe he's right - we, people in general, make the world more complicated than it should be. I look forward to more funny and witty blogs that shed light on all our complications.

Volunteering, it's good for the soul

Now that I've calmed down a bit from my rant on what happened last night at work, I wanted to share my volunteer gigs with ya'll. (Actually, I'm still rather upset about it all, but my Mom, Jewels, and Cinderita are right - I have my priorities, and donations are supposed to be given willingly). I think doing something for your community is important. Even if it's small. When I was little, growing up in Old Station (Read: Home again, home again jiggity jig), my parents were volunteer EMT's. It was a tiny town, and in such towns, most things are volunteer - like the firefighters and EMT's who could save your house or your life. In larger towns and cities, people volunteer for Humane Societies, Salvation Army, etc. There are so many things in life that run on volunteer efforts; people who willingly sacrifice their time to help someone or something. And they don't consider it a sacrifice, they consider it a privilege.

I'd been in Sacramento for a couple years at least before I decided to volunteer. I went to a website (found it off Google), and it listed organizations looking for volunteers for certain jobs. All I knew was that I wanted to work with animals, since I no longer do in my current job. I found a couple ads that interested me. One was for Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue, and the other for Saddle Pals Therapeutic Riding Center.

Homeward Bound was founded by a couple named Jody & Mike about 10 years ago. It's their life. Night and day. Jody tells me about the nights she'll sleep in the barn on the futon if she has a sick dog. Mike constantly works on projects - fencing, pens, etc. It's run completely by volunteers, and it's all for the dogs. They try to save as many dogs as they possibly can, and it tears them up when they can't. The recent economy and housing crash hit pretty hard last year. They rescued well over 800 dogs, and their vet bills are nearing $400,00/year. Some dogs have been there since I started in May of 2008. Most aren't, thank goodness. Most have found homes, whether it be foster or adopted. Some are "Sanctuary Goldens" meaning they will live their life at Homeward Bound because their seniors or have severe medical issues. They have yet to turn a single dog away, not even Cooper who was a Pit Bull. Or the few Labradoodles that have come in. Or the one that looked more like a Corgi than a Golden. Every week, I go in on Friday mornings after work, and I help Jody clean the kennels and feed the dogs. There are 30 kennels, at least three of those are large enough to comfortably fit two or three dogs if they came from the same household. When the housing crisis hit, and many owners were facing foreclosure, the influx hit. Suddenly we not only had the 30 regular kennels to clean and feed, we had dozens of crates in the main aisle, some double stacked. And out in the barn area were more kennels, again, in some cases, double stacked. It's the only Golden Rescue in the state of CA, and they have a volunteer network that shuttles dogs from San Diego to Sacramento. They have even gotten dogs shipped from Asia! Even though the kennels are loud with the dogs incessant barking, just looking in those dark brown eyes, you see they still just want your lovin'. To learn more about Homeward Bound, I invite you to visit their website:
http://www.homewardboundgoldens.org

Left: Looking longways down the kennel during a "busy time" during the foreclosure crisis. Right, by on the of the kennel entrances, more dogs.







Saddle Pals is a part of United Cerebral Palsy (or UCP) of Greater Sacramento, and offers horseback riding lessons for people with developmental disabilities, from small children to adults. I work on Saturday mornings for about 3 hours; I'm a "leader", meaning I lead a horse in a lesson, and I'm in charge of the horse, making sure it's safe for the rider at all times. Most riders require at least one side walker, a person who walks right next to the horse, making sure the rider is safe and follows instructions. Some kids require two side walkers, some are independent enough they don't require a side walker at all. Some lessons are private, others have two or three students in a lesson. I confess one of the major reasons I wanted to volunteer with Saddle Pals was the horses. I have been a horse lover as long as I can remember. I owned my own until I moved away from home for college, and don't get to be around them much anymore. However, after getting to know the kids in my lessons, I grew to love them just as much as the horses. One girl, "T" is legally blind, yet rides independently. The first time I saw this, I was more impressed than words can say. There is a volunteer in each corner of the arena, and serve as "talking cones"; they're assigned a number/letter and as she comes toward them, they repeat it until she passes. She's nearly my age and has been riding since she was a teenager. Another girl, "K" is one smart cookie trapped inside a body that refuses to listen to her. She works so hard and in the two years I've been there, she has improved a great deal. She's moved on to using a saddle and stirrups. When I first started with her, it was hard for to vocalize "Walk On" for her horse, I often had to look for her hand signal. Now, she never uses her hand signal, but says fairly clearly - "Walk On". And it's adorable when she tries to impress her family from out of town. Other kids teach more patience than anything; if you get frustrated then they get frustrated and can't or won't work. It amazes me every day how hard the kids try. And it amazes me what the horses put up with. I have my favorites, of course. Tex is my man, a gorgeous Quarter Horse with a sweet temper. Rio is my old Stud Muffin, who is just about as old I am, and that is an old horse. Tiny, who is a Belgian Draft and incidentally, the largest horse in the barn is a big cuddly teddy bear who is also afraid of water (mainly sprinklers). Dudley is my "Mr. Pokey", and also gave me my only kiss for Valentine's Day this year (which made "K" laugh during her lesson). Niner is sweet, but can't be without Angie, her gossip buddy. Angie's the biter. Sandman is just a sweet ol' guy who apparently doesn't like wind. And then there's CR, who's name is C.R. Appy (and what does that spell?), he is slower than molasses moving uphill in the middle of winter, and he headbutts a lot. But, I love them all - their sweetness and patience. To learn more about UCP of Sacramento and Saddle Pals, I invite you to visit their website:
http://www.ucpsacto.org/saddle-pals.htm

Left is Tex, and Right is Rio.