Don't Call-Leave a Note!

 

 

When the timing is so perfect that its almost impossible to believe you scratch your head and wonder, "it couldn't of worked out that way if I planned it" .   Newly weds are called that for a reason, just married, and its new.  New emotions, traditions, thought processes, actions to consider, consequences to address.  It was a quaint little duplex, remodeled to add a laundry section and room for a table to eat at.  Both working , no children, long hours, so the few moments one or the other or both have at home is a rarity.   Throw in a high school friend in the extra bedroom and it becomes a little chaotic, entertaining, nonstop conversation at any given time between any number of combinations up to 3, making alone time almost non existent, but on that opportunity of complete silence, for the one hour total that happened in the whole time our house guest was there, I decided to go out on our tiny porch and dig in the tiny square next to it in order to plant a couple plants to make it look like we would be staying for awhile. In my mind we were. But  the other half of my newly wed union came home to a scene straight out of a nightmare, his own.  He frantically ran around the house looking for clues, finding more along the way,  not making any sense of what his brain was thinking for him.  In his panic he makes that Call, the NO NO call, the  call that no husband should ever make until he has all the facts, but his brain was sure it knew all the facts.  So he called,  the MOTHER IN LAW-  that would be my mother, who just a few short months ago was asking her daughter in question if she was sure this was the man she wanted to marry.  I assured her it was, and I promised her I wasn't coming back and she could turn that bedroom into her office.  He Called her, speaking so fast my mom probably would of needed an ambulance(if you knew her that would be funny right now) thinking something terrible had happened, because that's what mother in laws think when their son in laws call them all frantic and such, but she didn't have time to call the ambulance , she had to decipher what the new groom was speaking,  and when finally revealed, she too was in a temporary state of panic.  My mom knows she is the first person I would call in a situation like this, and how dare I or better said how could I NOT CALL MY MOM!   So the two of them tried to figure out why on earth I would leave my husband of only a few months.   "Tell me again, "  she asked him.  He said " I came home, and their were suitcases next to her car, I walked in the house and couldn't find her and so walked over to the  (historic) answering machine to  see if she left me a message, and there sitting on top of the outdated message taker were her wedding rings, no note no nothing just suitcases, her car still here and wedding rings".  She calmed him down and said, there has to be an explanation for this,  and the first  thing he should of noticed but didn't were the flowers I planted, men don't see that stuff,  If he saw those he would of known I was planning on staying.  But all he saw was suitcases, sitting by my car,  thinking a friend had come to pick me up to talk and get me situated somewhere else then come back for my stuff.  He was unaware that the suitcases had been previously borrowed, by my aunt, that brought them back and was in a hurry and just dropped them there by the car! Remember the rings,  plural, if he would of picked them BOTH up he would of seen that were broke apart, and bent, from me digging in that tiny square to put pretty roots down.  I have a tendency to loose things so I put them where everyone (all 3 of us) living in the house would see them to remind me I needed to get them fixed before I lost them.  The third member of our house came home after searching for a job and said, wanna go play tennis,  and me being a tennis pro since I was eight because my dad taught me, and dads are pros at stuff like tennis and bowling and even if you suck at it they tell you your a pro, well, most dads do,  to this day I am 46 years old and the last time we went to have fun as a family bowling, remember I said FUN, theres my dad being the Bowling coach telling me "SIS your twisting your wrist!" "Pick your arrows"  so yes I thought I was a pro and said to our room renter,  with an evil grin "Sure I wanna play" all the while knowing I was going to take the trophy ( some random rock we picked up at the court)  I really can't remember who won (that doesn't mean I didn't just means I can't remember) But I came walking in the door and got the biggest bear hug to that date since being married, and as we looked back at the circumstances that were in perfect place for  a scene of an unhappy newlywed,  all three of us had a laugh.  Not the mom in law, I think she is still angry for him calling , and me for not leaving a note.    Moral of the story,  don't call the mom in law unless its "were on the way to the hospital, good or bad,  and for the newly wed wife, (that was me)  LEAVE A NOTE!

 

 



Milk- Cow

MILK- COW

 

 

 

"Really!!!, was he totally serious," as I read the list of chores left to me by my former Father -in-law it went something like this:

 

Sticks-

Dogs

Feed

Milk Cow

 

Now what the heck was I to do with that, the day before I was out visiting Mom and Dad and they had a few things they wanted me to look after and in my haste and attention deficit disorder I was half heartily listening to Dad and I figured he was leaving the list so all was well.   "Now what?" why didn't I listen, don't get me wrong, I have milked a cow or two or 4 or probably 2 yep just two in very controlled situations. Brownie our first cow, (maybe there was just one cow at different times)  anyhow, I distinctly remember sitting Under, but now would be sitting next to comparable in size, I should really be nicer to myself. Thank you Cathy for those wonderful cookies you brought over tonight they were so good I had to eat 2, they had nuts that's healthy right?   I have established that back then I was practically Under Brownies Udders. Milking a cow is a special technique all its own and the wooden fake with the water filled glove at the kiddie farm is NO WAY near in likeness to the REAL teet. I grew up in the city, with no wide open spaces bigger than our 20 x 20 yard and full of that amazing Diesel air freshener /smog smell that I was so used to, not the stench of cow pies and bladder leakage that was ever so the scent of fresh flowers to my Ex's nose ( as I crinkle mine sitting here recalling the nasalpharengyeal dance it did in my tortured nostril memory)  I got 99 out of a hundred on my  spelling of medical terminology exam, that was the 1 word I most assuredly missed.   There I was in all my citified girlie glory learning how to milk OUR cow properly, but hey I had an instructor next to me so I was not flying, excuse me-, squeezing solo, I had help, and when we had a barn for said Milk Cow at a different place of residence we had a special made cow holder while merrily milking along.  I'm sitting here trying really hard to think of what the name of that cow holder is called, it will come to me before I'm finished I'm sure.  This cow holder did not come with HOBBLES(remembered that ranch/farm word, go Lisa!)  for the cow, and for you horse people you know exactly what those are. For you uneducated to the country folk they hold all four feet of a horse while your delicately and gently training the 200 pound Texas Walker, oh shoot I mean Tennessee Walker, so it doesn't leave you fractured into tiny pieces on the pasture floor.  I left that in that was an honest flub of horse names, didn't feel like retrieving it.  Brownie did not have hobbles ( and I never thought to use the horse ones , that would of ticked her off)so she was free to do her own cow dance while her teets were being massaged, and she showed her gratitude just at almost the top of the bucket with a big ole Kick a roo!  But hey she was still contained in the cow holder.  So when I read the LIST with the words " Milk Cow", and Old Betsy (Mom and Dads cranky dairy giving cow)was standing out to pasture that I would of trained for a 5 k in one day trying to catch,  and not recalling where they were storing any of the equipment, since after milking you bring whats left in the bucket into the house and use what looks like coffee filters on steroids and a specialized made for home milking of any animal strainer, plus the glass jar to pour your fresh squeezed and no pulp milk into, I was totally baffled and bewildered of how to solve this problem.  Racking my brain over and over trying to remember what Dad had said, wishing with all my might I would of just listened, I headed down to the barn list in hand to look for my items needed.  SHUTE- cow holder!  As I was looking at the list and walking I read it over and realized Dad had written it hastily as well and must have been distracted too. I laughed as I walked extremely elated back to the house to  FEED MILK COW! 

The Butcher Knife

The Butcher Knife

 

 

14, That number again, seems like that's where my thoughts have gone. I didn't want to start the story about me at birth,or now, it seemed like Rex and the gold mine was a good place to venture out, however now being bi-polar my mind races with ideas of what to write, and yes even on my meds it still races. I could do a whole other blog of my bi-polar but I thought Gypsy Butterfly was perfect because it covers it all. You will see throughout my blogs how its affected my life, but at this point it wasn't a factor by name anyway.  I think back and wonder what that diagnosis had to do with all the situations that came into play, and how I handled them. I wasn't given this Dx until I was in my twenties and it usually doesn't rear its ugly head until late teens early twenties, but I'm thinking it was around a lot longer.  This story doesn't have anything to do with any of that but if I have sparked your interest in seeking out more blogs of mine then I have succeeded in bringing you back for more and more.        

 

My Mom, sister and I lived in a house on American Beauty in Rose Park. It was just the right size for the 3 of us. Single level home nothing to fancy, but I always liked that house.  Got into a lot of trouble in that house for sure. My bedroom was on the end so I had two windows one facing front and one facing the side and the one neighbor we had kept to himself.  I always had an odd feeling on that side of the house and never liked being there.  My vanity with my mirror was facing that window.  I could see that window and look out of it while getting ready in the morning or in my room at night.  I just got out of the shower and had my towel on and was doing my hair. It was pitch black outside, and then WHAT THE HECK? I Jerked my head around as the blur in the window dissappeared into oblivion. PEEPING TOM!  I just had an experience with a PEEPING TOM. My heart was racing I hurried and shut my curtains, which if I forgot to mention my windows were up high. No one could see in them just walking by unless they were really tall or standing on something.  I can't recall if my mom was home but when I told her she brushed it off as my imagination and seeing things. Not sure if she really did not believe me or was trying to keep me from being scared, she said- " No one can reach that high to look in anyway"  but it left me unsettled.  A few weeks later I needed to go on (that side) of the house and had the most amazing revelation! THE GAS METER!  it was right UNDER my window and when I stood on it! YEP you guessed it I could see right into my window. I remember seeing the neighbor outside and the memory all came rushing back to me.  It was HIM!  I kept the doors locked from that time on. My mom talked to the police and found out he did have a record of peeping. I think he was warned or something but it never happened again to my relief! Still every time I heard a noise that spooked me I would grab the biggest butcher knife we had, I was stupid enough to go outside and all around walking with that knife thinking in someway it was shielding me from harm. (always when I was alone or in charge of younger people, but when a man was next to me, he was the noise checker outer and I was the neurotic frozen Popsicle, saying " I Heard something go look, NO SERIOUSLY GO LOOK< PLEASE GO LOOK THERE IS SOMETHING THERE!") Back in those days we walked everywhere or we rode the bus or our bikes, in my case Gina pumped me on hers while I sat on the handlebars, no wonder she is so into fitness to this day and I am so not!  It was one of those bright sunny days and I was walking to the store prob for a coke or a creamy.  No friends that day, just me the sidewalk, sunshine, and some guy in his later twenties coming toward me and as he got closer I noticed something I didn't want to notice and looked for a long time because I couldn't determine if my brain was playing tricks on me, or was it? He slowed down and I was definitely right, it was his manhood hanging out in all its glory.  I sped up a little, no it was  really really fast not a run but the fastest walk I had ever done while glancing around at homes looking for my escape (wishing I had the famed butcher knife on me) trying not to have fear written all over my face. We actually practically touched arms, I didn't want to run I was determined to keep going and look back only once, thinking if I ran he would chase me and tackle me in some bushes.  The angels were walking with me that day, he was intentional, I just didn't know how far his intentions were going to go. I was glad to get to the store and was VERY aware of my surroundings on the way home and grateful he did not see me coming out of my house. Fast forward a year or so. My Cousin and his family were living in that same house renting it from my mom. He had two boys and him and his wife were out on a date. Everything was going great the boys and I were having a great time they were about 3 and 7 ish.  All of a sudden I heard a big bang, and crash! I grabbed the boys and stuck them under the counter by the phone, the old yellow dial one hanging on the wall with a cord that only reached 20 paces in any direction and sometimes 21 if I was determined to get something out of my reach. I grabbed a Big butcher knife out of the drawer and squatted down under the counter with the boys after dialing 911 on the phone. The Police were there in no time, outside, inside, all around. The one officer had the other two and me come into the master bath where the shower curtain was off the wall laying on the floor. They had a little under their breath chuckle but said to call again if I didn't feel safe and to keep the doors locked, adding they were looking for a rapist in the area, THE ROSE PARK RAPIST, as I was thinking, "why in the HELL did you need to tell me this after the history I have had with this house, this area and now this night, a 15 year old blond girl(by the way he informed me he targeted blonde's)  babysitting totally freaked out. I know they were just doing their job and I was totally relieved when he said they would do extra patrol around the house for tonight. To this day when I hear a noise, the first thing I do is grab a butcher knife and go toward the sound. My Daughter Gina does not believe this though.  One night our friend Greg thought he would be funny and hid behind the gas pump at our small town station. Gina was with me when he jumped out at us and I RAN by myself in the TOTAL opposite direction. Leaving my then 13 ish year old all by herself to face whoever the attacker was! I didn't have that stupid butcher knife on me and in my defense to her I said I was running for help, if he got both of us then we had no chance, like on the airplane when the mask falls down what do you do first???  She wasn't having any of it, and still doesn't, and LOVES to tell people how I forced her to fend for herself. I bought a butcher knife for her for Christmas this year, but it was so pretty and sharp I kept it for myself! ( Truthfully, I thought, hmmm probably not a good thing to send in the mail it was a set of three differnt sizes and colors for any type of noise she may hear and it will match her kitchen, I will make it up to her someday, maybe)!