Happy 14th Birthday, Scott!

Love you always,

--Mom

In memorial '05

Well done, once again, Mr. Trudeau!

Just think of what Memorial Day is really all about. It's not picnics or a day off from work. It's about the greater sacrifices our military and their families show everyday when no one is looking. Not just those listed in the above referenced link, but their families, who have to go on without them; and those who are still with us and the people who love them.

Yes, this war has gone on about 2 years too long. So many have died since last year that it's going to take Garry Trudeau two Sundays to list them all.

Our Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines: heroes all. Thank you for all you do.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

I remembered this year...

MVL is two years old!!!!

I began this blog on this day in 2003 by posting earlier posts from another blog I was keeping at the time. Blogger was just easier to use. So I blew off that other blog and started keeping my thoughts here. And what a long, strange trip it's been.

I'm pleased to say that my crazy life is taking some exciting turns. I've gone back to school to learn to work in an industry that I have wanted to explore for nearly half my life; I've seemingly told my depression to take a flying leap (though I still do get down sometimes, it's nothing like it had been in the last year); and my future looks bright, and that excites me beyond reason!

And my battered personal life...well that still needs a little work. But, that's getting better, too, little by little. I can now imagine life in a positive light.

Someone recently told me that Oklahoma kinda grows on you. I'm beginning to think he is right.

And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Emails, calls and Thursday

In addition to the strange phone call I got Thursday from the police in Maine, I got an email from Saon this afternoon.

When he called last week sometime, he mentioned that he liked getting emails from me. So I sent him one. Today's email from him is the reply. He reports that Michele finally got off her ass and found a job, and that he still has Blue the $400 pit bull.

I wrote back and told him that it was good that Michele got a job, so he won't have to worry about bills so much. I also told him about the phone call from the Machias, Maine, police about the beating there three years ago. I don't think they will find him because Saon moves around way too much. All I know about where he lives is that it's somewhere on the Westbank.

And Thursday...well Thursday night was nice. That's all I'm going to say.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

You'll never believe who called me today...

A man who stated that he was a detective with the Machias, Maine, police called me out of the clear blue sky. He said he was working on a case where someone stated he saw a fight between two carnies in August 2002! This detective was looking up information on the internet and ran across my manuscript. How he got my current phone number, I'll never know.

He asked if I had any inforamtion about this alleged crime, did I know names of anyone with the carnival, etc., etc. I told him I knew a lot of nicknames, but no one's real name. I had no information about the crime, as my real life adventures with the carnival I fictionalized in my novel didn't begin until mid August 2002.

What I didn't tell him is that I knew some people's real names, but that time won't allow me to recall what they are. I certainly didn't give up a certain New Orleans residents real name. I don't really know if he was even in Machias at that time. I honestly don't remember.

Remember, Carnyville is a work of fiction based on a real experience. I played fast and loose with the facts. I don't remember what really happened, and what I made up.

This is really weird. Maybe I should get the phone number off the Caller I.D. and call it back. Something about all this that kinda gives me the creeps.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Carrie wins!!!

Carrie Underwood of Checotah, Oklahoma wins American Idol!!


You know, I barely watch this show, but since Carrie is from Oklahoma, all the news stations in the state have been covering Carrie's rise. Checotah must have gone nuts when they heard!

Now, I have a second Idol favorite. My first is Kelly Clarkson.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Scott's graduation was very nice

but I'm too tired to write about it now.

I'm too tired to write about anything, really. Even about the nice chat I had with someone on Yahoo Mess-up-enger this afternoon (and no, it wasn't Saon).

I can tell you now that Scott's Grad dinner is at Golden Corral. At least that what I have been told.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

The Red Car, R.I.P.

Dean donated his old car, affectionately known as the Red Car (the one Daniel used to drive before he bought his Cobalt, and the one Jeff refused to acknowledge was his) to a charitable organization this morning.

Originally, Dean, Daniel and Jeff were going to take the Red Car (an '89 Honda Accord) to Enid, where Dean's folks live, and get it fixed, but on the way up there, it died for good. So Dean had it towed to our house and the Lion's Club came and had it taken away. They get a dead car, and Dean gets a tax write off.

I always found it amusing that Dean, who is red/green color blind, bought a red car. But, it was a crimson color, no doubt influenced by his college alma mater (the University of Oklahoma), and it got him from point A to point B during college and Med School. He had driven it every day up until about 2 years ago when he bought his Yukon.

I even said I'd drive the Red Car if Jeff wasn't going to, and Daniel took me out in it to reacquaint me with a stick shift. But, it never happened, and now the Red Car is gone forever.

--sniff--


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Oh, it's a hot one...

about seven inches from the midday sun.

At least, that's what it feels like! Geez, it'll probably be 100-something next Sunday for Scott's birthday.

On May 29, 1991, it was in the triple digits in Portsmouth, VA, and I was in the coldest damned hospital (Naval Hospital, Portsmouth, VA) I've ever been in. The maternity wing was in the oldest part of the hospital, and it had its own a/c source. And because it was so hot, it was cranked up. It felt good that first day after Scott arrived, but I was there three or four days, and after the first day, I needed a sweater! It was just as hot on the day Scott and I were discharged from the hospital, and our little Toyota Corolla's a/c was totally maxed for the 20 minute trip home to Chesapeake. Fortunately, Scott's car seat was not vinyl covered like Daniel's was (Daniel was 7 years old at the time and obviously no longer using it). It was cloth covered, and not hot to the touch. We made sure that he got plenty of cool air back there.

I can't believe Scott will be in high school in a few short months!

More on Scott's birthday next week. He has his 8th grade graduation to go thru first.

Then Amalia graduates from Kindergarten two days later.

Then, Scott's 14th birthday.

Next week is going to be busy! I hope I survive it! LOL


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Be nice to me-- I gave blood today

After school, I went to donate blood. It's the first time in about a year I've donated, and I try to donate about three times a year. I got a soda, cookies, pretzels and a very large t-shirt for my efforts.

Today it was very hot: nearly 100 degrees! Methinks that this summer is going to be a scortcher!

Thank God for air conditioning. I might actually like the overly cool classroom at school if this keeps up!


Well, no more from Saon. I kinda figured he wouldn't call back after I got home from school last night. If he calls, he calls. I can't worry about it anymore. I have more important things going on than waiting for a call that may never come. I have a test to study for next week.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

And then there's this:

Saon called tonight while I was fixing dinner. He sounded good. He was calling me from work.

Seems that things between him and Michele are as per usual; he works his ass off and she sits on hers all day. Saon said that he no longer feels the same for Michele as he once did. She supposedly asked him if they would remarry and he said no.

Then, he tells me that when I visited him in Gretna almost 2 years ago, that he thought I was trying to be more of a mother to him. He said he realizes now that I was just being me, and that he likes me being me. He finds it reassuring that I didn't compromise who I am for him. He also is looking at seriously looking to get out of Louisiana, because (I think) he realizes that the people he hangs out with are trying to keep him down, where as he wants to explore other possibilities for his life.

Good for him! He has matured some since I last saw him.

He talked about coming here (again). I told him that I was committed to my schooling until the end of November, so I couldn't go to Louisiana. He said he understood and is glad that I am doing so well.

I have mixed emotions about all this. My main question is whether to trust him, to trust what he says. I want to, but in the back of my mind, I know I should be extremely cautious.

I know that if I cave, and he hurts me again, it will take all my strength and willpower to keep myself in a positive frame of mind.

I can't let myself get in a negative frame of mind again. I won't allow it.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Have you always been an asshole, or do you have to work at it?

There is this one guy at school who has his head so far up his ass that he can't see. To call him a stuck up prick would be kind.

He's one of those men who is good looking and knows he's good looking. He lords his perfection over those of us who aren't quite perfect.

He's at the point in school that he's about to graduate, but still has some stuff to do to fulfill the requirements to do so. I thought he had graduated, because they took his picture down in the lobby, and I hadn't seen him the latter part of last week. When I saw him in the New Lab, I said, "You're still here? I thought you'd graduated last week." Said he, "Not yet." I mentioned that I hadn't seen him the last couple of days last week and he replied rather snippily, "um, that's called a weekend." I said that's not what I meant and let the subject drop.

Later someone asked me how to spell the word "acquaintance", and I spelled it for him. Mr. Know it all said I was wrong that there was no letter "C" in that word. He then said, "Trust me on this."

And since when did you become Mr Webster? I thought to myself.

The negative vibes he was giving off were enough to think twice about saying anything further to him. I think that if he'd asked me for my help on a project, I would have told him to take a flying leap.

Man, people like that just piss me the hell off. Where does he get off being such a jerk. I wonder if they taught him that in the military. It wouldn't surprise me if that were so. I've know plenty of arrogant military guys. Invincible. They have this "nothin' can touch me" attitude that makes me want to run the other way in case it's catching.

Dear Mr. know-it-all: I'm not as dumb as I look, so don't cross me. If you're wrong, and you are a lot of the time, I'll call you on it. I knew you spelled acquaintance wrong. You aren't perfect, and you deserve to be brought down a peg or two. Maybe not by me, but trust me, someone will.

/END RANT

(and it's not like he's going to read this, so I can say whatever I damn well want.)


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Stolen from Hannie, who stole it from Mandy, now I've got it.

I love stuff like this! It's a guilty pleasure...


1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. If we’ve met, when and how did we meet?
4. What social event or place would you like to go to with me?
5. Would you kiss me?
6. Describe me in one word.
7. What was your first impression?
8. Do you still think that way about me now?
9. What reminds you of me?
10. If you could give me anything what would it be?
11. How well do you know me?
12. When’s the last time you saw me?
13. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn’t?
14. Do you think I am good lookin’?
15. Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you?



========================

Things in my world are going great...today anyway. More on that later.



And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Happy Birthday, JC!!

Have a great day!

Love ya-- Stef

Can someone explain this to me?

I worked a concert at the Ford Center last night. Kenny Chesney was the headliner and "special guests" were Uncle Kracker (huh?!) and Gretchen Wilson (whatta voice! u go girl!).

Knowing this, and having been to a couple of concerts long before this gig at the Ford Center, there is something that I just don't get.

Why is it that women have to get all tarted up to go to a concert? Are they looking for some from someone in the crowd, or are they looking to impress the headliners and/or members of their crew so that they can get invited backstage?

I've seen women in next-to-nothing tops, tight tight jeans or skirts, and high heels flitting around the venue like they're someone important (but without the credentials of an all access pass). Then they have the audacity to complain that their feet hurt and could they please use the elevators to get back to the main floor. I've heard some of my coworkers tell them, "take off your shoes and go back the way you came." High heels have no place in a place like the Ford Center because of all the stairs one has to climb to get various places.

I don't know about their motives, but I go to concerts for the music, not to get laid. Some see celebrity as a way to escape from their own dull and boring (or whatever) lives. In order to get celebrity, you have to earn it by working hard and never giving up. Just take Gretchen Wilson as an example:

She grew up in this tiny town in Illinois and worked her way from obscuirty to being a major Nashville star. It wasn't done in just a few months; and it wasn't by sleeping with someone famous. This gal has real talent, and it showed in her performance last night.

Okay, so that was a rant about the way some women dress at concerts. I won't even get started on the fact that the Ford Center sells beer during these events. Girls behaving badly? Just check out any concert venue during a big name concert and you'll see what I mean.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Sounds pretty accurate as dreams go

Another Blogthings thing...

What Your Dreams Mean...

Your dreams seem to show that you're a very well adjusted and happy person. Overall, you are very content in your life. You tend to be a very productive thinker. You have a very vivid imagination and a rich creative mind. You secretly want to hide your dreams from your waking mind.

What Do Your Dreams Mean?

And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

This shit is getting very old

Today was great until I came home from school, then Mom jumped down my throat because I didn't buy macaroni and chesse for the dinner she planned to make this evening. I said she didn't ask me to buy mac and cheese, and we proceeded to get into a shouting match over who was right (Mom's convinced she is). Since I didn't want to get into a further argument with her about it, I just went upstairs, apologizing for something I didn't know I had to do.

Well, she got all snippy with me and told me I was not to speak to her in that tone of voice. "You speak to me that way all the time," I said. Wrong move. She turned into a damn drama queen, bitching and moaning about how no one listens to her.

I can't listen if she doesn't say anything!! She may have thought she told me to buy mac and cheese, but she didn't because I would have written it down on the list if she had. So while she's thinking I'm being an insolent brat, she doesn't look at her own behavior as being combative. It's like she wanted to pick a fight with me.

I'm over 40 years old. I resent with a passion being treated like a child. I have never had, and will never have, the ability to read my mother's mind, so if she thinks something, I just can't pick up on it. She has to tell me, "get macaroni and cheese at the store," instead of just thinking she told me.

This shit is getting so old. I'm not the only one she's done this to. If I could afford it, I'd move out, but I can't. I'm stuck here until I graduate from school and get a job.

And believe me, any job in radio I get is going to be as far away from here as I can get.

November couldn't get here soon enough!


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

I could have saved a trip to Shepard Mall

if the worker at DRS had only thought to call me with the information I drove all the way over ther to get. What a colossal waste of time and gasoline! And with gas still around $2.00 a gallon, gas is something I really don't want to have to waste if I can possibly help it.

The worker told me that they determined that I was eligible for their services, but didn't check with the school to get information from them on my student status. So I provided her with the name and number of the finiacial aid coordinator, Angela, and hoped that it didn't take two more months to get the information about whether I can get tutition assistance and transportation assistance. The worker told me that she'd have to get info from the school, and then talk with her supervisor about whether DRS will pay for all my tutition because I'd already started school.

Seems to me that I had discussed all this with the worker when I saw her in February, but she seemed surprised, as if she was hearing it for the first time. I noticed that she didn't take notes and didn't have my file in front of her.

What a totally frustrating visit! And the worker kept apologizing for making me come all the way down to Shepard Mall when she in essence had nothing to tell me. I was supposed to be working out a "plan" at this appointment, but she had no info at that time to do much of anything.

I do have an appointment on May 23rd. Let's hope the worker has all her stuff together by then and we can get this show on the road. The first thousand takes it.

By the time I got to school, the worker had called Angela, and Angela had faxed the information that the worker requested. I guess I'll know something by the 23rd, but whether I can get there will be an issue because Mom is making a big production over the idea that she'll be broke by then.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

From my referrers list

The latest results of serches that lead people to my door (as it were):


• Google: what do i need to get a marriage licence in oklahoma (How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm not planning to get married here.)
• Google: vida loca porn (Huh?)
• Google: mi vida loca
• Yahoo! Search Results for mi vida loca
• Google: my crazy life
• Google: islamic song alphabet lyric "yusuf islam" (FKA Cat Stevens)
• Google Search: livin la vida... without the loca... sitting, waiting, wishing... must i always be playing your fool? lyric (It's Jack Johnson. Even I knew that.)
• Google: meriden jefferson blog -connecticut (Looking for my Frog Bridge in Willimantic, are you?)
• Yahoo! Search Results for a quotation for being enjoy a crazy life
• Google Search: mi vida loca mean (Use the translator at dictionary.com. I'm tired of answering this question.)


More often than not, people aren't finding what they are looking for, but come and check MVL out anyway. That's cool! Now, please leave a comment or email me and let me know you were here, 'kay?


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

So much I know...LOL

When I got to school today, I had my PI with Larry, who apologized again for his still missing tooth. I told him that at least he was there, and that if that had been me, I'd have hidden from the world. He told me that he still had to come in, tooth or no tooth.

He listened to my show from Wednesday (what turned out to be the better of the two shows I did last week), and told me I was doing a great job. He told me that he is glad I decided to come to school there, because he's sure that I will go far in broadcasting.

That really made my day!

And I thought the flex clocks I designed for my shows last week really sucked, but Larry told me that they were good, and that I had the right number of stop sets (when the DJ talks, plays commercials, does news, etc., that's a stop set) and that they were well spaced.

So much I know! I screw up and it still turns out to be right!


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

A couple of good ideas

Mother's Day was all right, I guess. We went over to my sister's and had a barbeque, homemade ice cream and brownies from the bakery at Crest. Amalia wasn't feeling well and threw up all over her bed and the carpet in her room.

Daniel had to take a CD he borrowed from the library back (it was nearly a week overdue!) and Scott and I tagged along. Daniel got his car washed at the Shell station near our house, while we listended to Scott's copy of Green Day's American Idiot.

Thus brings me to Good Idea #1: Daniel wants to get Scott tickets to Green Day's show at the Ford Center in August, and asked if I could get him a discount or something. I said that I couldn't because I don't work for the Ford Center, that the security company I work for is contracted by the Ford Center. I need to talk to Daniel, but I think between the two of us, we could probably make this happen. I'd want to go, though (I just couldn't see Tori and/or Dean at a Green Day show). Me and Daniel taking Scott to his first big concert? Yeah!

Good Idea #2 was given to me by the guy who works nights at the mini mart (formerly known as the Breakplace) at the Conoco station on Edmond Road and Santa Fe. I was out getting Mom ciggies (again!) and "Mr. Earl" suggested that I buy a carton of Mom's brand and hide them where she'd never think to look. I'm calling it "Operation Coffin Nail", and it goes into effect when I get paid again. Of course money's always involved.

It's a pretty sneaky plan, but I get tired of buying cigarettes for Mom everytime I turn around. I hadn't even driven into the garage last night from work and she had me go out and get her some. Forget that I'm dog-ass tired... it's getting old...


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Hmmm...let's see: JC's art show, Larry's tooth, Jeff's decision

This afternoon, I got an email from JC. He had the opening of his art show last night, and the opening night was, in JC's words, "a huge success!"

Remember the original email I got, the one with at least 100 names in the "to:" space? Some of those 100 people were classmates of his at the art college he attended in Maine, and five of them came to the opening. He actually sold some of his works, and got a lot of questions about the subject of most of them: A Course in Miracles. He's quite pleased with the turnout. I still wish I could have been there, though.

(Yeah, right, like I could have held my own with his college friends. My knowledge of art is sorely lacking!)

I am so happy for him! And I'm going to tell him so as soon as I'm done with this entry.



One of my instructors at school, Larry, accidentally knocked one of his teeth out last weekend. All this week has been filled with trips to the dentist to remedy the problem, and yet, he still manages to show up and have a good sense of humor about the whole thing. If that had been me, I'd have gone into seclusion! I guess guys can handle stuff like that better than women can.

He has a spacer to fill in the gap for now, but talking is next to impossible, so he takes it out. For someone who makes his living talking, being hindered in that department is not a good thing. I know I'm going to dread that first case of laryngitis after I start working on the air.



Jeff has come to a major decision about going back to UCO in August: he's not. At least not right now. He feels that he's not cutting it in college and wants to go out into the real world and gain some confidence and discipline before he goes back to school. Mom is disappointed in him, but it's his decision. Would she rather he flunk out and not be able to return to UCO at some future date?

And, to be honest, I'm a little disappointed, too, but he came to this decision on his own. He's an adult now, and we can't hold him by the hand forever. He has to make decisions on his own, and if this is what he's decided, then we should accept it.

Maybe he'll change his mind, but I don't think he will.



And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Try a positive attitude, Mom

it works wonders!

I think that if my mom couldn't complain about something, she'd have no purpose in life. Today she had the fatalistic attitude that she "doesn't have many years left, and maybe not even this year." Now, c'mon...if she were really that bad off, you'd think she'd let us (my sister and me) in on it. My sister, at least, because I'm always the last person to know about anything going on in my family. Hell... even the dog knows more than I do!

She bitched at me about not being able to buy gas for the van. When I got my paycheck in the mail, she told me to use most of it for gas. My paycheck was $32.00! I put 15 bucks in the tank just this morning, and we need more.

She's not swimming in dough, but she'd not friggin destitute, either.

I, on the other hand, constantly and continuously, am broke. Whatever money I get has to go towards getting me from point A to point B. I get this middling little paycheck every two weeks. I can't always pay for gas. I do all of Mom's errands and stuff for her, and that van doesn't run on gas fumes (thought she seems to think it does).

I'd drive the Honda that Jeff doesn't want to acknowledge is his if Daniel would come and take me out in it a few times so I can relearn how to drive a stick shift. Then Mom can have the van that she never drives back.

I have to go to bed. I'm getting a headache.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Had to get out of the house

The busybodies are supposed to come over today.

So here I am at the library, and I think my time on the computer is almost up, so I'll make this short.

Less than five minutes left. Damn. I had something to say.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

This really should be in my FMS blog, but

I feel like crap.

I couldn't work this concert tonight because I strained a muscle in my back, and I'm exhausted and achy and feel like something the cat dragged in.

Just sitting in this chair at my computer is killing me.

This happened shortly before I left school today. I must have done something to strain the muscle, but for the life of me, I don't know how. All I know is that it hurts like a mofo!


And that's all from where I (painfully, I might add) sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Rant alert... "If I'm offended, I'll let you know."

This all started last Thursday at school. We were doing group shows, and the two knuckleheads I was in a group with decided to "out-cool" each other. Whether it was for my benefit or their amusement (though I strongly suspect the latter), I don't know and I don't care.

These two guys (wouldn't you know!) started with jokes about masturbation, then about Michael Jackson affinity for little boys, then about STDs. I knew what they were doing, and wrote it off to their acting worse than young teenage boys telling dirty jokes in the bathroom during lunch.

It was unpleasant, but I wasn't offended by it. I've certainly heard worse conversations. I was like, okay, guys, whatever, and left it at that. I tried to get everything back on a somewhat sane footing, but these two were having none of it.

Unfortunately for them, one of the instructors overheard a good majority of this nonsense and came in the studio where we were and proceeded to rip the guy who was acting as program director a new one. The instructor's language was rough, but there was no mistake that he was NOT pleased with the turn of events.

On Friday morning, I needed help with something and went to this instructor's office. I made an off the cuff remark about the events of the night before, and the instructor started apologizing for the conduct of the other two, and for his own language in my presence!

Now c'mon...I'm a big grrl, I can certainly take care of myself. If something offends me, I speak up. I knew those guys were just being stupid, and let them, in essence, hang themselves with their own rope. And I've certainly heard much worse language than what the instructor used in my presence. No one needs to be doing any apologizing to me. And, I'd just like to forget the whole damned thing if nobody minds too terribly much.

I don't know for sure, but I think that the instructor is offended that I wasn't offended. Well, I'm offended that he's offended that I'm not offended! (Got that?)

I just have this terrible feeling that the instructor is going to make the guys in question apologize to me. If they do, and it's of their own free will, then fine. If they're told to do it, the apology won't be sincere, and nothing will be accomplished. So what's the bloody point?

It's over and done with. Let's move on, shall we? Besides, one of the guilty parties is graduating in less than two weeks, and I certainly don't want to hurt his chances of getting hired somewhere because he decided to act like an idiot. I daresay that we all make errors in judgment at some point in time or another.

God knows I've made my share!

/END RANT


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

It's the middle of the bloody night

and Jeff and I went cruising with Daniel around town.

It was just to go to the recently open-24-hours drive thru at McDonald's near the house to get ice cream, but then we went to Crest (the one Daniel works at) and got sodas, and generally goofed off for an hour or so.

I wish I could remember all the funny stuff we talked about, but I guess you had to be there.

Daniel finally got his tag for his car (Oklahoma only issues you one license plate). And, he got his title, too. Which I thought was weird because the car is financed. Well, they do things differently in the Sooner State, I guess.

What. Ever.


And that's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--