Dragging today

Am feeling very low and down today. I had a very rough day yesterday. I won't go into detail but it all has to do with my age and the process we deal with when we reach a certain age. This also ties in with why my week-end was a wash after what felt like a migraine coming on. I could not function very well on Monday either  - I went home sick from work and went to bed.

I had to be in a certain training for two days (these guys flew in from California) so we had a small window of time and I could not call in sick or go home sick or excuse myself. I was in our home office which is 60 miles away from my home. I couldn't just "run home for lunch". They insisted on taking me to lunch and I had no co-worker available to go with us and I had to keep up the chatter by myself.

I was drained. I feel like I don't even remember anything after lunch yesterday. There were two trainers (one was training the new guy) and my head was spinning from both of them showing me this product we are evaluating. Of course with this aging process comes insomnia so I had awoken yesterday morning at 3:30 a.m. and never got back to sleep. I was not hitting on all cylinders and my brain was so weak.

I am behind on some planning for the baby shower and I had 14 trick or treaters come to the door last night. (I fixed my porch light.) They don't stop unless the porch light is on. This is after I told our new neighbor lady that we get no trick or treaters in this neighborhood.

I guess that is changing. I wish I had more energy and I wish I had asked them if I could grab a few camera shots. The dogs were being, well - the dogs were being dogs. They barked and wanted to meet and greet every single kid that came to our door.

And, of course we had two "older" kids come around. One is a "little person" and I knew him from a few years ago. He wasn't even dressed up (that I could tell) and his friend looked to be an older teen. I said "Hi Larry (not his real name)". He said hi back. Sigh. I don't care. As long as it does not get out of hand. I don't mind a teen sneaking in here and there (actually I am fairly certain that Larry is in his twenties). He was always very nice to me.

I know this tired "episode" will pass. I hope it goes quickly as I want to be at my best when I host the shower on Sunday.

Names

Over 58.000 names. My brother-in-law had a couple of names he wanted to search for. They give you a paper with the panel that the name is displayed on. There are two sides: East and West. His card would say W8, we would find the 8th panel. Then the name is number 124. There are dots on the side to count by tens. We counted down 120 and then you only have ten names in that section. The name you are looking for is number four into the section, but there are still so many it is easy to get lost in the sea of names.

We found the first one. My brother-in-law and I and his seven year old grandson. My brother-in-law told me the boy was 18 (the name we were searching for). He had to walk away and his grandson asked me where he was going. I said "It is very hard for him." My sister could not even come over. She said it took her husband a long time before he even talked about Viet Nam. She said that it was far too emotional for her to handle so she stayed back with the three year old grandson.

The above photo I made by taking a picture of the shiny granite display of three servicemen. It was facing the wall. I was able to capture the wall in the reflection and surprisingly - no people in the frame. The crowd had dwindled by this time.

Speaking to an organizer of the wall he said that an entire military group failed to show for the event. They were the ones who were supposed to guard the wall at night.

I have more pictures and more stories. These are too important to throw into one long post. I want to give each one a little bit of time and space here.

Thr Travelling Wall

Going here today.  Not to the real one, the traveling one.

It started yesterday. Sister 1944 wanted a sister to go with her to the genealogy picnic. I said "Sure". I wasn't doing anything. I got myself up and ready, made my calico beans and went. I don't know what has happened to me over the past few years but I have become a super-charged extrovert. This is a 180 from when I was growing up as a shy, bashful introvert. How does that happen? I have no idea.

Regardless, my medication (that I have taken for maybe a  year, now) has exacerbated the extrovertism. Ha, that isn't a word. But,you get the idea.

Gabapentin is the generic name. Here is a list of side effects.  I seriously think it would have been easier to print things that it "DOES NOT" do.

Hyperactivity. Oh, yeah. I got that one covered. It started about 11 o'clock. It did not stop until I was by myself in the car on the way home at 4:30. Sometimes I wonder if my brother-in-law just wants to tell me to shut the f@ck up. My sister laughs with me. I think he just tolerates us. (Seriously I think he really enjoys his wife laughing and having a good time. She is under a lot of stress right now). I certainly am the one to entertain.

I was the bingo caller at the picnic. When they said they were going to start the bingo game I automatically got up to call. Sister 1944 asked me how I knew I was going to be the caller, I just gave her my incredulous look. Like "Seriously? Who else would do it? Who else has this big of a mouth?"

We stopped on the way home to visit another sister and brother. The laughter did not stop. Sister 1944 was getting a headache from laughing so much. The movie "The Mask" with Jim Carey comes to mind. When he spins and says "Somebody stop me!"  That is truly what I feel like because I feel like I cannot stop myself. I am like a runaway train or a bouncing ping pong ball.

In the car by myself,  I do calm down a little bit. Not much, though. I crank the music and sing. Maybe I should begin to cut the caffeine intake. Sigh.

Anyway, sister 1944's husband was a marine in the Viet Nam war. They said they are coming to my neck of the woods today to visit with their grandson and if I wanted to go. I said "I'm not doing anything,  I'm in!"

We will go today and I will definitely be curbing my hyperactivity today. When I read that there would be clergy and counsel available I began a slow panic. Oh, no. I can't handle the crying. I am going to be bawling like a baby and I don't know one soul who passed away in the war. None that I can think of anyway. No cousins, either. Oh dear. The other side effect to the medicine:  Over-reacting too quickly, and too emotional. Oh, dear, dear, dear. I am done for. Focus, I  must focus. I need super glue for my mouth because I know I will be going up to people, hugging them and asking them to tell me all about their lost loved one.

I'm talking complete strangers, here. I have no fear. If somebody is freaked out by my actions, I read the environment, back-pedal and move on to the next victim..err, person.

The vocation of counseling does run in my family. I have three relatives in the therapy area. We seem to know what to say and when to listen. The drawback is we fall victim to the emotional vampires. People (co-workers) who unload all their problems and issues onto us. Then they feel better and we become depressed - zapped of our energy. They sucked the energy right out of us when they go on and on about their problems. How does a therapist do it?

Sawed

I "sawed" this post at the lake in October. 

It is Monday and I am ready for work. Sigh. I suppose. I dread the job these days. As I stated before my mojo or enthusiasm has been squashed or quelled. I know that it is my responsibility to get it back. I am working on that. Each day I work on mending my hurt feelings towards my co-workers. I am taken aback by how very angry I still am. I guess I do not let go very easily. I am not one to forgive and forget. I hold a grudge for a very long time. I have read that this is not healthy. I really don't care. Everybody is different, everybody heals in their own way and in their own time. Given half a chance I'll kick the MF'ers in the teeth.

A post is a post is a post

What to post about? I am not in a dry spell. I have plenty to talk about (or write about, I suppose). I just have not had the inclination to sit down and write it. I do not plan my posts ahead. Maybe once in a blue moon will I schedule a post, but for the most part -  you get what I am feeling at that time. If I think about something during the day that I may want to post about, you only get it if I remember it later.

I could write about what I think about the mayor of New York deciding to hold the marathon even though there are so many still suffering (he finally canceled it). My thoughts - what an idiot. And I am certainly not alone.

I could write about a movie I watched last week-end. N Cage (who is really going downhill if he was even on a hill in my book). I am not speaking of looks. I never liked his looks.What is with the eyeliner he wears? It looks freaky. I am speaking of his acting choices. I found it a little far fetched that in the movie Stolen he would go to prison for 8 years and come out knowing how to use the latest cell phone available like a pro. And purchasing (what looked to me like a Blackberry) for thirty dollars. Eh, I may be wrong - he was supposed to be a brilliant con man before going to prison - and maybe they taught prisoners Technology 101 in the prison he went to. To the movie makers out there - don't insult our intelligence.

I guess what really has me bogged down in the writing department is my job. It was a bear this week. My duties got pounded. Nothing was working right and I had a "hell" of a time getting any help from our support for the product. I am fairly certain I am going to dump them after our year is up in June. I hate to admit I was wrong, but I did want to give them a year to straighten themselves out. They are not.

Then, there is that word "hell".  I work in Education. Okay, I get that. My e-mail messages go to men and women who work with computers. My e-mails do not go to teachers, superintendents, treasurers or students. Or, parents. 

We have (and maybe you are familiar with) distribution lists in e-mail. That is a group of e-mail recipients who belong to one group. Such as technology. There is another distribution list for superintendents. One for treasurers, etc.. You get the picture.

When I send an e-mail out to the technology distribution list, all 45 (give or take) of my technology coordinators in my school districts get a copy of my message.

I also have a distribution list (with five people in it) that sends messages to only my staff that I work with in my organization. We meet once a month, we laugh, we go to lunch together. We make fun of the other departments - you know. Just like a little click back in middle school. We are a fun group. We are all over 21. Hell (there's that word again) we are all over thirty. Maybe 40. I don't keep count anymore.

This week I was having a particularly tough time with what I am responsible for and I was especially fired up on Friday because that was the day I decided to give the company that manufactures my product both barrels of my fury.  Sigh.  Again.

So my e-mails were kind of flying thick and fast. They consisted of instructions such as: If this happens, please do this. If that happens, please do that. Please let me know the time and what browser you were using and what site you were trying to get to when this happens. Etc...etc... This type of messaging went to the 45 techs in my schools.

I would also throw a few messages to my co-workers (the smaller distribution list) and let them know what was REALLY going on. You know, things I could not tell the schools. Such as the company I was angry with is on the west coast and I cannot get any support until 11:00 a.m. because they don't start business until 8:00 their time. They tell me this is not true, but they lie.

In one message I printed this phrase "when they decide to wake the hell up on the West coast".

A few messages later, I get an e-mail from my manager telling me to keep the word "hell" out of my e-mails and to portray a more professional disposition when communicating with the school district technology personnel. 

First of all, I did not remember using the word "hell" so I scoured my messages to my techs in the schools and came up with nothing. No curse word "hell" in any of them.

However, a message to my co-workers (the five in my department to which he was actually referring) had the phrase mentioned above  - "when they decide to wake the hell up...."

So here is what my manager tells me (when he still was under the impression that I had sent that line to the schools):

I know you're frustrated and I appreciate all the time you put into this... Let's try to keep the word "hell" the hell out of the e-mails.. :) 

Just want to make sure we are keeping the comms professional from us to the techs...

We'll save the colorful language for when we get these bozo's on the phone.

Ahem. Yes, he did put in a smiley face.

Here is an example of a message I send to the techs in the school districts, all of which I think are very professional:

We are still isolating the problem with the slippage.
If you experience any please let me know the browser and web site you were trying to get to.

Thank-you for your co-operation in this matter as 
intermittent problems are hard to troubleshoot.

And this one:

Please be patient while I work this out with (the product).
I do not need any more information. I understand why it is sporadic and why it is only https:// sites.

I will update as soon as I can.
 

I always strive to remain professional when dealing with them. Well, my manager mixed up the two (I was sending a lot of e-mails so I see how he could do this) but when I pointed out that I did not curse with the word "hell" in any message going to the schools, only to my co-workers in our department -  he said the following:

I thought you  were trying to send that update to the tech coords... No worries...

Just wanted to give you a heads up, because I've done it myself in the heat of battle...

Now, I know I am thin skinned. But I was peeved. I lost all passion about fighting my issue with the problem. Well, almost all. The wind was knocked right out of me.

I will tell you why. You may think I am a baby, you may think I am making a big deal out of nothing, but this type of thing has irked me all my life in the workforce.

He does the same thing. Before he was a manager he ranted and raved and he even refused to go to one district because he did not get along with the tech there. He seriously told the rest of us that he would not walk into that building - somebody else would have to take care of that district from now on. Granted, this was a few years back.

My, oh my! How they change when they get that management title. How hypocritical they are. How dare he even think that I am in any way un-professional?

When the word "hell" is typed in a message (which by the way - he was mistaken) and actually did not go to the schools? He did not apologize. He did not read back my messages that I have sent and replied - "Wow, I see that you are professional when you speak to the techs... thanks and keep up the good work!"  Nope. It was just wanting to give me a heads up. As if I am so..... what is that word? ...."hysterical"  that I have to be reminded to mind my manners! Be a lady. Oh, I see.

Here's a heads up for you, Mr. Manager. How about our organization's director who cannot spell and cannot use proper grammar when she sends e-mails out to the school superintendents? I see them, I cringe. The techs I speak to laugh at her. Yeah, they do. They have for years. Not only what she types - what she says. It is SO obvious they have NO respect for our organization. 

She never gets the their/there,  are/our,   right/write    straight in her messages. She is always using the wrong one. How is that for professionalism? Mr. Manager? Kiss my ass, Mr. Manager. Here is a classic. Once I heard her reading documentation out loud with another co-worker. They came across the word "augment". Such as - network augmentation. They both hesitated. The co-worker shrugged. The director of my organization said "Well, if "I" don't know what it means, I'm sure the superintendents won't know."  Yeah. This is one example. Maybe she should be the next Mayor of  NYC?

Yeah. I'm sensitive. But that makes me the first one to rescue a puppy or kitten or child in distress. After 52 years of life, I wouldn't change a thing. I like who I am. I like what I am. I just don't like managers who are younger than me and were not even born when I was dealing with "managers" telling me how to act in the workplace.  Save it - asshole.

Huh. I guess I did have something to write about after all. 

And, yes. I feel better.

Still fuming

You know how you get an e-mail or a message or something and it makes you so angry you see red. I posted about that last week. Right?

Well, today I was cleaning out e-mail and came across the e-mail again. Now, I don't re-read this type of e-mail because I am SO upset the first time, I do not add fuel to the fire by reading and re-reading the message.

I guess I had not seen it all. Down at the bottom were more points that the tech guy at the school had made and now I am back to angry.

I worked with him on Wednesday and Thursday (not know that he had said these things).  That may have been a good thing.

To backtrack a little, I talked to my manager. He was all like "Do not let this upset you, we know how this tech is, blah, blah".  He made me feel a lot better by letting me know he was totally on my side.

I spoke to the superintendent of this school district. After all, I had worked with this guy for over 10 years. He made me feel better by telling me that he had only read the first line of the e-mail from this irate teacher and deleted it. Now, I don't know if that is true or not, but I know he was trying to make me feel better. I would hope that he read the entire message, but I think he was telling me the truth. He said that this teacher is a whiner, etc...  

Which brings up the fact that - if this is the way a superintendent treats complaints from his teachers - does he really care about his staff? There is the remote possibility that he told his principal to handle it. That the superintendent does not need to be bothered with this sort of complaint. I don't know.

Sigh. The issues that started this mess have NOT been resolved. I am trying. It is complicated. The problem does not happen every time. I am trying to prove it is NOT my filter. Sometimes it is more than one problem causing the issues. Things like this take time.

Meanwhile, this tech keeps slamming my filter. You may as well bad-mouth my daughter. I take my job very seriously and I have worked very hard to get this filter to bend to what everybody wants it to do. 

To give you a little background, the filter is designed to work for one school district. We have it covering 45. To save the schools money we are trying to provide this service but we know how big business is. They would love for each school to purchase their hardware for each district, and here we are purchasing the biggest unit they have and trying to make 45 districts happy. 

Maybe it is impossible. But this tech needs to get off my back. Most of the "points" he brings up he has not properly re-searched. He has somebody's ear and he keeps beating this drum. Funny thing is - out of 45 districts nobody else is complaining. They complain but not in the manner that this guy does. 99 % of my techs out there lavish praise on me. This one guy - what? Does he have a vendetta against me? I know, I know. I am not supposed to take it personally. But, really. Working with this guy I am finding out that he has not taken the time to even learn the basics of this filter setup. That gets my goat!

Seeing red

In extreme rare cases (maybe twice) in my life did I get so angry I have no memory of what I did. Twice. In my early twenties. I became angry yesterday to where I became faint. I read an e-mail that pertained to me and wouldn't you know I could not get anybody on the telephone. I had to leave a few voicemails and stew about it.

Long story - I was attempting to help a school district fix a problem. Instead of waiting for the technology person to get around to working with me I called the teacher directly (a name given to me by the technology person) to see if we could "cut to the chase".  She mistook my call for me asking her to fix the problem for the entire school. At least that is what she said in an e-mail to the superintendent. 

I was not ill mannered in my call. I was more than sweet. I apologized for bothering her and asked her if she had a free  period where we could work on the issue together. She went into a rage. I backed out of the call and told her I was sorry to have bothered her and thanked her for her time. She retaliates by writing a scathing email to the superintendent saying that I told her she had to help me fix this problem. I did not say any such thing.

Ah...well. The superintendent must have confronted the technology person who, in turn - e-mailed me and carbon copied my boss stating the teacher's side of the story only.

Angry? You betcha. Somebody put words in my mouth and twisted what I did say. 

I waited for half an hour for anybody to return my call. Nothing. I finally got up to go to the bathroom and almost passed out. This was over 45 minutes after I read the e-mail. I was still that upset.

I stewed all evening. I dreamt about it. I am going straight to the school today to work on the problem. I had other plans and cancelled them. I am still angry. I am going in composed. I am no shrinking violet. I won't see the teacher I attempted to work with. She is at a tiny elementary school. I will see the technology person, though and if possible, the superintendent. Funny thing is, I worked with this superintendent for over 10 years. He was the building superintendent at the place where my remote office is. He is a good guy.

Sigh. I came home with a headache and needed the Advil. I think they are creeping back in. The headaches. Drat.

I am hoping my eyes are seeing pink, now. Or, at least coral. Blogger keeps flashing a message at me that it is having an issue saving my work. I'll make sure I copy and paste this text into notepad before I publish it. I don't want to lose everything and try to go back from memory.

The years fly by

It is all going by in a blur - in the end it's a wink of an eye.

Time. Hurry up and wait. It keeps on slipping... into the future. It goes by so slowly. It goes by too quickly. It goes. To be four years old, then fourteen, and then 24. There is a cavern of time between the early decades. After 34 or so, they just blur together. Mine do anyway. I lived entire lifetimes between four and 14, and then between 14 and 24. Between 24 and 34. After that I kind of stayed in one place, remained in one job, saw the same people every day. The years became a blur.

Am under the weather today. I dreamt (how about dreamed?) I was throwing up. Hmmm yes, spell checker likes dreamed much better. I awoke with a searing headache and not feeling well at all. I gag when I sneeze. I am stuffed up. My eyes hurt. I don't want to go back to bed because I will then focus on the nausea. If I stay up and do things I can keep it in the background.

I think there was more to my purchase on Monday than meets the eye. Yes, I have been looking at the various smart phones and there comes a time (like when I buy a car) when I just get tired of looking and just say "oh, just buy the damned thing! One of them, any one of them so I can get out of the misery of deciding!" Make a decision and "poof" it's over.

The fascinate has a few caveats that I am trying to learn to deal with. It kept shutting down on me (going to sleep) so I figured out how to keep it "on" for a couple more minutes. I'm sure this will be okay when I know how to use the phone, but it was kind of aggravating while I was trying to learn how to use it. At first it "pushed" my exchange e-mail and then it stopped. I re-created the setup for my work e-mail and it began "pushing" my work messages again.

Anyway, I think I was upset from Monday at work - and purchasing the new phone was supposed to make me feel better. I am guessing - but I really had been looking. A co-worker and I were given a new job to do. Our organization started a new avenue. I bulldozed through the mess and figured out how to set up the entire show. I was ready with a presentation. For about the sixth time in 15 years, we ran out of time at the meeting and my presentation was nixed - again. Barely a mention. As I mentioned above it has happened to me before. All that work and "poof" nothing. Not a word, not a mention about it. WTF?!

I also believe that is why I am throwing myself into the Ubuntu experience. I need to have something to learn to make me feel good about myself. I must stay resilient and not become recalcitrant.

Heat

Here is Teton busy trying to grab the wrist strap to my camera.

I am blaming it all on the heat. The heat is making everybody crazy. I went out to walk the dogs this morning and it hit me like an oven. Once we got out and about there is a breeze blowing. That helps. We went our usual route. We rounded a corner and I heard a funny sound. I stopped. It was the Boxer growling! He has never growled before. A deep very soft growl.

I quickly looked around. What in the world would make this massive animal growl? Is it a bear? A deer? A huge dog? All I could see was the street department cones and a flashing battery operated light on top of a street sign where they had dug up the pavement to put in a new home's sewage drain pipe.

Ack! That was it! He was afraid of the traffic cones and the flashing light. I talked softly to him and walked him over to the area and he finally came forward and sniffed the cones and the sign and then he was no longer afraid of them.

Then we went on our merry way.

Sigh. To the showers to cool down!

Great and Grand

I looked it up. Grand Nephew is just the same as a great nephew. So, I was right all along.

My party is Saturday. My annual July celebration. I have it on whatever day my town is setting off their fireworks. They have a festival in the park (just over the hill from me) for about 3 or 4 days during this long week-end. It is a great time. Sometimes I don't get the chance to get over there, but when I do - I am never disappointed.

So far on the menu, sweet Italian sausage, hot dogs, hamburgs, calico beans, macaroni salad, potato salad, vegetable tray w/dip, cheese ball and cheese tray (I just remembered I need crackers), strawberry frozen, peanut butter fudge, pineapple pudding cake, lemonade, iced tea, pop and beer. Sister 1956 won't be able to make it this year. Drat! She and I just went to a party Saturday so that is okay. She could only go to one or the other (because of her job).

Sister 1954 is excited because there will be some family members she has not seen yet since her release from prison.

I didn't have my party last year because I had my daughter's high school graduation party (remember the sumo wrestling?). That was only one year ago? Good grief!

My daughter's new beau will get the full exposure to family and I think she might be nervous about it. I don't know. She got mad at me last night. I guess I embarrassed her in front of him by telling her to "chill out." She called me on it and accused me of getting an attitude each time company was over. She was stomping around the house trying to force one of the puppies to poop outside. He was so scared he ran and jumped into my lap shaking. (The pup, not the boyfriend).

I think stress is getting the best of her. New job, new beau and all. Me? I bit my tongue with her. I know how hard it is to be the new love interest in some one's home and I refused to make her new beau feel uncomfortable by arguing with her. I let it pass.

I bought my first bag less sweeper. I got the Bissell Healthy Home model. I really like the bag less feature. It was so easy to snap it in and out and to empty it. Once I figured out that I kept putting it back into "brush" mode and that was the reason I was not picking anything up, I was okay. It is much lighter than my previous models.

I am going to focus on outside mowing and landscaping today. I hope. I need energy. My head hurt as soon as I got up this morning. I went to bed too late (vacation days from work) and I suppose that might be the reason. The dogs don't care that I went to bed late, they want to go out at 6 or 6:30. Sooner if they can. I also got myself a brand new hedge trimmer. I have never used one before. I guess you have to supply your own electrical cord? Good thing I have one. My friends spoke of how they cut the cord while they trim. Sounds like it happens a lot. I suppose I will do it, too. I chose the lightest model they had. My arms will be sore enough.

I hate, hate, hate waking up with a headache.

Dog days of summer

Picture from last year in July. Sable watches the new arrivals.

I wonder if she had any idea the chaos that would ensue with the arrival of these two. And then that boxer a month later. Sable's world was about to be turned upside down. Poor girl. She just has not been the same since. Some good, some bad.

She gets to walk more. That is good. She gets to play more. That is good. She had to learn to share. Not so good. She had to put up with a lot this past year. She rebelled by choosing NOT to listen to us from time to time while we are outside. I know she hears me because she gives me the sidelong glance. As if to say "I hear you, but I am going to do what I want to do. So there!" She is testing our limits. Even my daughter says "Sable doesn't listen to me anymore." I know. She is rebelling.

The long days of summer are upon us. My saving grace is that work gets cut short an hour early at the end of the day. I get a head start on things around the house. Especially where the mowing is concerned.

I have not let the daughter's new beau mow yet. He offered to. That is his job at a golf course. To mow and landscape. I figure he does that all day long, he doesn't want to come to our house and mow, too. Daughter has started her job as cashier at a local grocery store. (I had to shake my head in disbelief when she complained about her hours). I cannot believe this girl! They are working her three days a week with 7 1/2 hour shifts. She is outraged. She wanted five days of five hour days or something like that. What! I have three words for her. GET OVER IT! And, I told her so. Grumble, grumble. I am so shocked by her attitude I cannot put it all into words, yet.

Moving on. For some bizarre reason every June (or July) my mother lode computer decides to pass out. An electrical storm shut it off on Tuesday and I have not been able to get it back since. I know that the battery or something has been acting up for a couple of years because each time that the system is shut down unexpectedly it defaults back to the year 2004 and the settings default back to the factory settings of SATA Raid drives. Well, I changed that a year or so ago and it takes a few tweaks but I can usually get things back. Sigh. I believe another hard drive has bit the dust. Good grief.

I am sweeping my floor with my Shop Vac. Slow going. I needed bags, so I went out last evening to purchase some. They cost me $150.00! What?! Ha, ha! Okay, there is a grocery store next to the Ace Hardware. I had not purchased groceries in a few weeks. I was out of everything!

I get a little nostalgic in an Ace Hardware. My first job out of high school was working in an office at an Ace Hardware and Automotive store. I worked six days a week. I was the entire office staff. When the other girl left to get married, they didn't hire another, I just absorbed her work, too. Yeah, young and naive.

OMG! Speaking of nostalgic. Let me tell you something about my personality or nature. I was raised as the youngest of 8 children. I was chubby cheeked and tend to get along with everybody. To say the least I was a favorite and I was spoiled a bit. I guess. That's what one sister never fails to remind me. My retort is "It wasn't MY fault!"

Anyway, I was given the demeaning label of "being a big baby". I guess I cried to Mom or an older sibling each time I was picked on. Pecking order, you know. And the older sibling of whom I was a favorite would retaliate and punch or punish the non-favorite one who had picked on me. Into my teen years I had a couple of siblings that scoffed and laughed at me if I got my car stuck in the snow or something similar. I was teased a lot. I grew up mean. Guess what? Older siblings leave the nest and then you have to fend for yourself. Yeah. I got real mean.

You tease a puppy enough and they turn into one mean bitch. Well, that's my excuse anyway. I hardened my shell quite a bit. Maybe too much. I stopped crying. A long time ago. Crying was a form of weakness and got me called "baby". I vowed that I would never cry.

All is well until the pre-menopause cycle slips in. Again, OMG! I swear it all started the day I received my AARP membership card. It did! If you have not experienced it, you can google the symptoms to see what I am speaking of. I may have to resort to something like taking black cohosh. I was driving to my home office on Tuesday and out of the blue I started crying. And I cried all the way (a little over an hour). I don't mean nose blowing sobs. Just weepy and enough so that your throat hurts and you have to keep wiping your eyes.

I did what I needed to do at the office and then started the drive home again. Again! I cried almost the entire way. It may have been the song sets playing on my CD also. It was so bizarre and out of character for me.

I got home and mowed the grass. I could always blame the watery, red eyes on the grass clippings. By the time I was done mowing my mood had passed and things were back to normal. Huh! I really could do without days like that!

On the movie scene we watched "The Messenger." There was some "t&a" I could have lived without, (it can easily be cut out for the general audience viewing) but the emotional aspect was very good. I thought that B Foster had really come into his own with this picture. A far cry from the first movie I'd seen him in: "Big Trouble". Although I did feel that S Morton acted uncomfortable during the film. She made me feel uneasy. At first I thought maybe she was an inexperienced actor, but upon research - that isn't the case at all.

In pain

The Hibiscus syriacus has caused me immense pain the last 24 hours.

I awoke yesterday starting out just fine. Walked the dogs, drank some coffee, read some blogs, hopped in the shower. Well, I don't hop anymore - it's more like slide or glide in. I was almost done when I reached up to rinse off my razor in the shower and "slam" I was hit with a twinge in my right shoulder blade.

I immediately stopped what I was doing and waited for the twinge to subside. It did not. It got much, much worse. I manged to get out of the shower and drape a towel over my hair and get my robe on.

I was still hoping that this "twinge" would go away. With each step it became more evident that I had a problem. A debilitating problem. I began to curse under my breath.

I tried to continue, but had to wake my daughter up to comb my hair. By the time she was done I could barely walk. She helped me to the t.v. chair (laying flat was not an option) and began stacking pillows up around me. I had already taken the ibuprofen.

I could not get comfortable. Every breath caused a stabbing sensation in my right lung. She surmised that I had a collapsed lung. I pooh-poohed that suggestion and just hoped it was not a fast case of pleurisy. I have manged to keep that ailment away for some years now.

Warning: Movie spoiler alert! Skip next two paragraphs.

I called the doctor at 7:30, they could get me in at 11 a.m. To pass the time I asked my daughter to put in the movie "Avatar". Since the drug store was out of rented copies, I just bought one. I have heard so many good things about it. I fell asleep during the movie. If you have not seen it, I will tell you this. If you have seen "Fern Gully", "Spirit", "Surrogates" and any movie out there that has depicted how the white man literally bulldozed the native Americans - roll them into one movie and you have "Avatar."

Fern Gully carries the message of how the white man wants to destroy the habitat and does not care about the people or critters who live there. Spirit is a narrated story of a free spirit (parts of Avatar are narrated the same way). Surrogates gives us the scenario where a human goes to sleep and his brain is transported into another creature and he/she walks around feeling and experiencing life as that other creature. Please forgive me if I say I didn't care for the movie.

This movie is long. It helped to pass the time until my appointment. One good thing. At least I had my shower over with. I manged to get dressed (after a double dose of ibuprofen) and my daughter drove me to the doctor's office.

She (the doctor) examined me and determined it was my right rhomboid muscle. There is more to the injury than just the shower. I have decided to begin chopping up (or down) my hibiscus syriacus that has appeared to be taking over the back side of my garage and (if I don't get a grip on it soon) will begin to take over the back side of my house.

The previous evening I went through a frenzy of chopping these dastardly bushes down. I had my clippers and I was seriously angry (or frustrated). Two things contributed to the anger/frustration. It was raining that day. My boxer would not do his "business". The sissy marshmallow would not leave the back porch unless I pushed him off. If I waited on the porch he just hung his head low and stood in the rain giving me those sad eyes.

So, I grabbed the clippers and in the pouring rain began chopping bushes. This at least made him walk around a little bit. He was still being stubborn.

Warning! Movie spoiler alert. Skip the next three paragraphs.

Now, the second thing that made me angry (more frustrated). The movie "The Lovely Bones". Oh my. My daughter and her friend wanted to see it because they had read the book in school. It is the story of a 13-year-old girl who gets raped and murdered by a man that lives in her neighborhood. Through the movie the girl is caught between worlds. In the between world she narrates certain events. She tells of all the young girls this serial killer has raped and murdered throughout his life. In her "between world" all the little girls come together and meet - they are all sweet and happy to see one another. But it hit home. This one man was responsible for almost a dozen lives lost.

Therein lies the anger and frustration. I could not watch the rape scene so I went outside. (My daughter paused the movie to wait until I returned - uh gee, thanks.) Anyway, they didn't show much - it is rated PG-13.

The killer looked very familiar and I finally guessed what actor he was. The girl was just fantastic. I had seen her in "The Atonement". All this with the help of imdb.com. My favorite movie site.

So, the clipping of the bushes (while angry) probably is the real culprit to my rhomboid muscle strain. That and possibly sitting at my computer desk for long periods of time.

I got some muscle relaxers. Blech! I hate those things. They give me a headache that will not respond to ibuprofen and made me feel very restless. I slept about an hour after taking one, and it did take care of the pain, but overall - I'll just stick with ibuprofen.

So today begins my second day off from work. I cannot drive a car. I cannot turn my head. I was supposed to meet my manger at some of my schools yesterday so the fiber optics company could scope out where and how they were going to set up their fiber connection. Drat. This is why I cursed under my breath. My manager didn't know where the wiring closets were. I'm sure they found their way but darn it all! I really needed to be there.

I can get comfortable in my t.v. chair with a heating pad and about 3 large pillows, 1 travel pillow and my neck pillow. I cannot live without my U-shaped neck pillow.

Now, I have been at the computer too long and it is starting to hurt. Ciao - until next time.

It even has a name.

I am so traumatized tonight I cannot bring myself to muster up the energy to find a picture to post. Work was so-so. Nothing there. I did have that wonderful check-up after lunch today that women get where they smash your breasts between plates of cold steel. Yep. It could have started then, I suppose.

I come home and again, not much to harp about.

The new boxer was playing with the puppies. The puppies are getting a bit bigger and want to uh...want to err... show the boxer who is the alpha dog, I guess is the best way to describe it. Well, Chong does since he matures a week or two quicker than Cheech. Chong has been going to town since we got the boxer and he is leaving poor Cheech's head alone. Cheech is relieved, I suppose.

The boxer barely gives Chong a second glance while he humps away. He probably adds to the horseplay with flipping him around from time to time.

I scooted Chong off of the poor boxer's leg for the umpteenth time and Chong kept crying. I thought he got stuck between the chair and the fan and he yelped. He kept twisting around trying to lick himself.

I looked closer. "What is the matter with you?" I asked him. He twisted again and yelped. I got a closer look. Oh, good grief. He was uh... it was err... well, it was out there and it wasn't going back in.

I have to admit, I really didn't know what to do for him. Should I blow on it? Oh good grief, Peruby! But really? What do you do? I picked him up and took him to the bathroom and shut the door for some privacy. The other dogs were not helping us.

I ran warm water in the bathroom sink and sat him down in it trying to get him to relax. He seemed to really like this feeling and did not squirm. We sat there until the water got cold. It didn't help. I wrapped him in two big fluffy towels and turned to Google. It even has a name.

Some of the sites said to rub Vaseline on his extrusion. I called my vet. She was gone but the receptionist was there. She asked the other lady and she said to rub Vaseline on it.

Back to the bathroom. I got my old jar of Vaseline out and picked up a good glob. Was thing going to hurt? I looked at Chong. "Sorry" I said. I dabbed some here, some there. Nothing. Oh, how about the base? I applied some to the base. It was all red and looked like it was bleeding. Zip. In it went like a flash. Wow! It works! I was so relieved. Maybe not as much as Chong, but I was relieved. I called the vet back (it took all of 45 seconds) and thanked them and told them it worked.

I wrapped him back up in the warm towels and held him while I sat on the couch. He slipped off into dreamland all warm and snug. After about 15 minutes he wanted his brother, they snuggled, I covered them and they went back to sleep.

Oh, you think that was it? Ha, ha!

My daughter came home. I reminded her it was the last day of August and to get the $2 off per gallon of gasoline from our grocery store points, we needed to go today. She drove her car, I drove mine. Her boyfriend mows our grass and he said we should take both our gas cans and fill them. I thought that was a good idea, so I grabbed our good plastic container and an older one that I had not used in ages. It didn't have a lid, but a long spout.

We filled my daughter's car up. The attendant told me I couldn't fill two cars up. Only one. I didn't mind. I said "Sorry. I didn't know." She was very nice about it. "Can I fill my gas cans up?" She said sure. I filled them. I put them in the back hatch of my car and drove off. The first turn I heard a thump. I immediately pulled over and opened the hatch. Gas was pouring out of that old gas container all over the back of my trunk. I could smell it everywhere. I picked it up and cursed under my breath. Great! Just Great!

I got home and my garage door would not open. I began banging it on my steering wheel, enraged by the gas fumes consuming me. The little insides of the opener slipped out and I didn't notice the garage door open. I put the opener back together and pushed the button. The door began closing. Ack! I screamed. I pushed and pushed, but the stupid door would not open back up. The gasoline fumes were really starting to get to me now! I became livid.

I shut off the car. Got my keys to open the side door to the garage so I could open the door for my car with the opener attached to the wall. It opened. I pulled my car in and opened my door. It crashed against something metal and I didn't care what it was. I began slamming my car door against the metal again and again and again. I was full of rage. I hate this smell!

Finally, I stopped. I picked up the metal (old bars from one of my daughter's old boyfriend's trampolines) and almost flung it against my car. My senses were beginning to get the better of me and I tossed them off to the side. I grabbed those gas cans and sat them off to the side.

I reached in and tried to pull the carpet away from the back of the hatch but it was all connected. I ran inside and knocked poor Sable over (she is always laying in front of the door). She almost fell down the basement steps. I grabbed a bucket of warm soapy water and some rags. And then I saw it.

Folks, the honeymoon is over.

There between the kitchen and the dining room were shreds of my carpet. Bare wood peeked up from the corner door frame. The rage boiled back up again. "Who did this?!" I screamed. Dogs ran every which way to get away from me. I stomped my foot. "Who did this?!" The smell from the gasoline was making me act like I was on some kind of bad drug trip.

I grabbed the bucket of sudsy water and flew outside to try and wash out the gasoline smell from my car. The fumes were overwhelming. I washed the carpet. I pulled out the chintzy piece of plywood that separates the carpet from the spare donut tire. I washed and I washed, but that gasoline smell consumed me.

I was in such a rage. I threw the rags, I threw the bucket. Soap was everywhere. I left the hatch open so that the car could air out. I turned out all the lights, closed all the garage doors and calmly now, walked back into the house. I had to calm down.

The dogs were excited. They were hungry. The needed to go outside. Somehow I kept it all together. I took them outside. The new boxer did nothing. I brought them all back in. I fed them. I watered them. I cleaned up the shredded carpet. I did not cry. I am not a crier.

I took the boxer out for a second time by himself. I walked him around the block. Twice. I needed the cool evening air to clear my head. My foot was killing me. I was glad it was dark so the neighbors could not see me limping. He still did nothing. We went back inside. I cleaned up the puppy pee pads and put new ones down. I sprayed Febreeze.

My head is swimming. I am drinking cool ice water. I cannot get rid of the gasoline smell to save my life. I put my clothes into the dirty clothes basket and took it down to the basement. I washed my hands and arms about seven times. It remains with me. All the dogs are sleeping. The cats are hiding. There are two cats that I have not seen since the day after we brought the boxer in.

I think I now know why he was abandoned. The separation anxiety can be a killer. I went through it with Sable. I'll get medicine if those nice folks don't want to take him. He will grow out of it I suppose.

Well, my head is still swimming and I think I will call it a day before the headache has a chance to hit me.

Cats, fireworks and the visit

The natives (my cats) were restless the other day. I guess I had neglected to "over-feed" them, which I feel that I do from time to time so I make them go a little longer with no food. They were circling me like some wild animal pack and since they could not take their frustrations out on me, they began turning amongst themselves. Kind of reminds me of work.

I had fireworks in my work office on Friday. I have been waiting for this for three years. Three years! What comes around goes around. I ate my imaginary popcorn and watched the show from my front row seat. It was very entertaining. Sick ticket that I am.

We DID get to see my sister, but not without a little scare first. My nephew asked me the reservation number. I had not written it down anywhere. That is not like me. I don't understand why I would not have written it down in my little calendar I carry in my purse when I made the appointment back on May 5th. I worried all night long. I dreamt about it. I did get through on my cell phone to the institute before we left the house and they did give me the number. I was so relieved. Then when we got there, they didn't ask me for it. Figures!

The visit with my sister went very well. It was emotional. I was so out of it from lack of sleep, I may have zoned out from time to time. I am glad my other sister (1944) was there to talk. The sister (1954) who is incarcerated does tend to dramatize her stories. She has sprung a few dandies on us that all of us wonder the credibility of.

Out of 8 children (5 girls) she claims that she was molested by our father. She claims this happened somewhere in the time frame of 1960-1963. We are skeptical of this, but I am aware enough about alleged abuse, to keep an open mind about her claim. I mean out of 8 of us, she is the only one in prison... There were a few more claims (nothing to do with either parent or sibling) and she does keep rehashing them when she has the limelight and a captive audience.

Claims such as: A child given up for adoption in 1974, an abortion in 1981. She and I were very close in 1982. I lived with her in El Paso while she served in the Army. I watched my nephew. She told me so many personal things, I find it difficult to believe that she would not have told me this fact. We spoke of birth control many times. We partied a good bit. We shared many secrets. This is why I am skeptical.

We were not a strict family (especially in religion) in any form. We were very open minded and liberal.

I am the sister who has spent the most time with her. Sister 1956 spent their teenage years together and the in the early 70's they were very, very close. She certainly would have known about the pregnancy and adoption. Sister 1954 was away at college during this time.

It was not until about 10 years ago that she made this claim against our father. I am pretty sure our Mom never found out about this claim. I spent many times with my sister and she never told me about this. She had plenty of chances to. She said she repressed it. I lived with her in 1982, she lived with me in 1987. We went out many, many times.

I have heard her concoct so many stories (about her life) that I knew were not true, you just begin to wonder. My father is not here to defend himself and she can pretty well say what she wants. He was not perfect, he was a horrible family man, he was sadistic and mean when he drank (to certain siblings), but he never made sexual advances that any of the rest of us can recall.

For the record he was kind and caring when he was sober. At least the man that I knew. My Mom has a different view and after so many beatings, I can sympathize with her view. I do believe the mean spirit only showed up under the influence of alcohol. I am not 100% certain about this. As I spend more and more time with sister 1944 I learn more. Driving for long distances in the car is a wonderful place to listen.

Anyway, sister 1944 and I made it through the gates. Or, the security doors. You show your drivers license. They keep it and give you a visitor's tag. You get your hand stamped. You go through one door into a small room. The other door won't open until the first one is completely closed. You go from there across a yard to the reception hall. You sign in and get a small square table assigned to you. About 2 feet by 2 feet. There are three chairs. Sister 1954 must sit in her assigned chair - facing the guards. We can hug. We can go up to the vending machines. We talk and talk and talk. It got very warm in there and after 2 hours the body odor of the people in there began to make me very ill. That and the lack of sleep. We moved outside for the last half hour.

The chairs are not comfortable. They are not the folding chairs you find in an auditorium, but they are the straight back ones you might find in an office for meetings or in the doctor's office. No arms. We squirmed around a good bit. There were about 80 people in this room. They had the doors open. It was very warm that day, and I could not imagine what the place would be like on a hot afternoon.

My sister did say that the big library is air conditioned but inmates are only allowed one hour a week there. Her son sent her a fan. She can receive merchandise via UPS/US mail. He orders the stuff online for her.

She is "into" dianetics this month. I recall reading a book on this subject many years ago. She was always practicing health food, Prevention magazine idolization, and topping it off with drinking binges. Many times after "cleaning up" after she was sent to the big house, I was left with the job of sifting through and pitching her stuff. I would pitch hundreds of dollars worth of vitamins and minerals. Hundreds of dollars.

I told her I would send information about dianetics that I find on the Internet. I am horrible at keeping up my end of the bargain. I must rectify this. She can receive no more than three type-written pages in each envelope. No more than 3 photographs. I can do better.

Refreshing

Iced Tea

It has been very popular for restaurants around here (not sure about elsewhere) to serve sweetened iced tea. I know this is very popular in the south, but 'round here you had to add sugar if you wanted your tea sweet. And that is hard to do once the ice has been added.

I find the sweetened variety too sweet. So, I ask for half sweet and half unsweetened. Works out well for me.

Anymore, I drink water at restaurants. Cutting costs wherever I can.

My daughter drinks milk. Nobody gives free refills on milk and she always drinks at the very least two big glasses.

Of course there are free refills on pop, iced tea and coffee. I am not sure about hot tea. Are there free refills on hot tea? I usually only drink hot tea when I have a migraine. Oh, no. I said the word, didn't I? I have a "free" week-end and I just said the "M" word. Take a deep breath. Forget about it. Wipe it from your memory.

Thunder is still rolling about the Ohio valley today. It's dark and humid outside. I don't know what we have coming. I wanted to clean my gutters. But I want to do it without my neighbor seeing me since he offered to do it. That will be tricky. Is his truck out front? Yep.

My sister has started sending me emails about the first annual family reunion we are planning in August in WV. There will be no electricity at the shelter house. This ought to be interesting. Full steam ahead!

What a mess

I don't like to clean gutters

I don't have a fear of heights. Well, maybe I do. But not six or eight feet off the ground. I don't fear that. I really need to clean my gutters so I guess I'll get the ladder out this week-end. This is my patio during the rainstorm. That's where my daughter and I spent the evening Wednesday watching the storm. Sirens were blaring all over town, but we stayed put.

My neighbor asked me if I wanted him to clean out my gutters? The really bad one was on the side of the house where he could see it. That does it! I'm going to figure out some way to reach that side and clean it. I may have to buy a new ladder. I am considering sitting my 6 ft ladder on a table to reach. Sigh. I know. I won't do it. Dammit.

It was very nice of him to offer, but you have to know me. It was an insult to me. It made me feel inadequate. I thanked him profusely and his offer still stands, but I cannot ask for help from anybody. He said "I work for beer!" I laughed.

I am going to watch very closely. When he leaves (hopefully for a golf outing) I am going to get up there and clean them out. What a mess.

I have a horrible case of plantar fasciitis in my left foot. It came about from doing so much work the week before the graduation party. It flared up and has not let up since. My days have been sheer misery. Hot, sweaty, grimy and in pain. I am certainly not getting the Miss Congeniality award this week.

Could be

I think this is the reason I have been mellow, low and weepy

A time for celebration? I think not. At least they had the ceremony at 7:30 in the evening instead of when my niece graduated four years ago in blistering heat.

My daughter neglected to tell me that they were walking onto the field from two separate directions this year (unlike my nieces' ceremony) and I ended up sitting on the wrong side of the bleachers.

My nephew did the photo taking, though. He walked down to the middle of the field to get the photos. Of course there were gasps from the folks in the bleachers as he assembled his camera to an incredible length of over two feet. A man behind us said "It's the paparazzi!" I am almost certain that is what my nephew lives for.

And hey, I think there IS something to this Dunkin Donuts coffee. I am draining every single cup.

Through the years

My daughter (little to big) through the years.

It was a morning of heavy and strenuous work. The day bed (with a trundle) was finally leaving. My daughter slept in it when she was little. The futon had never been used. Both were leaving. Good riddance. I started at 8 a.m. My brother was to arrive at 9:00. He didn't get here until 10:00. My back had time to recuperate. The lower back was thumping pretty hard when I finally sat down to rest.

After he hauled them away I was outside in the beautiful sunshine sweeping the leaves and pine needles off the patio. The windows in my house were closed. I heard the most God-awful screaming. I threw the broom down and ran (okay, hobbled) inside. My daughter was crying. She and her on-again/off-again boyfriend were into it big time. I picked up her cell phone. He was inconsolable. I have told her that she cannot keep playing him along like this. One day she calls it quits, the next day he is over here. We had gone round and round.

I felt absolutely horrible but after 10 minutes of trying to reason with him I had to hang up on him. He said that he had no one to talk to. Nobody to turn to. I turned her cell phone off and hid it in the garage. I unplugged the house phones. My daughter demanded her cell phone back. I told her to go and settle down. She slammed her bedroom door and all was peaceful and quiet the rest of the day. She calmed down. I hope he did, too. It was just awful. I remember well what the pain was like. I wanted to tell him it gets easier. But does it?

I told her she was part of the problem. She gets tired of me harping at her. She says "I know, Mom!" Ah, the life. The drama. She is 18, he is 17. I wish that his family had not "home-schooled" him. He is still a freshman academic-wise. I don't think he is learning very many social skills. I think he may be emotionally crippled and immature. I believe in school they learn much more than an education. They learn how to get along in life. How to cope with disappointment. Eventually they see what it is like to have to "put up" with teachers and other things that do not go your way. In school the students have to learn to "Get over it!"

He grew dread locks. He has his ear gauged. He has piercings in his nose, in his lower lip and I don't even want to know where else. All in the past year. This was too much even for my daughter who is very liberal and tries not to judge others by their appearance. She thinks it is unhealthy because I believe he does the piercings himself. I think he tried to pierce his own tongue. They broke up for 9 months last year. I really thought they both had moved on. Oh, well. Big sigh. This too shall pass. Please let it be without incident.

The lodge

It is nestled back in the nether regions of a big recreation area. You exit the Interstate and drive for miles. You exit the main road and drive for miles. You exit the park road and drive for a while longer and there it is. On the ride all you see are trees, grass and once in a while a deer or two. And the golf course. Can't forget the golf course.

This is the lodge where I gave my presentation last week. I had about 15 in my audience. There were about 5 who I had never met before. The rest I had worked with at one time or another.

I think sometimes it is easier to give a presentation to strangers.

My daughter's previous boyfriends' parents are splitting up. This could be some of the pain that is causing his younger sister to attempt suicide. He was over last night to talk to my daughter. He is taking the break-up hard. What does she say? "He doesn't remember when he dumped me a year ago and I had nobody!" I sighed. The pain of breaking up I know well. I don't wish it on anybody.

Her cell phone just keeps on buzzing with text messages.

Angst

Maybe summer 2005?

This photo of my daughter was taken at a park back when her hair was long. I am thinking at least four years ago.

Teenage love is never easy. Well, adult love isn't either. My daughter dated one young fellow for four years on and off. They were apart for about nine or 10 months and recently reunited this year.

She had been attempting to cultivate other relationships with other fellows during their break. With many false starts as they both tried to move on, they eventually found themselves back together. When her old boyfriend returned to his old ways of putting her last on his list, she decided perhaps once and for all, she was finished with this kind of treatment and began to move on.

This last week she began spending time with a boy from school. She did make it to his swim meet this morning. When she told me she was going to go, I was a bit nervous about the old boyfriend. How would he react? Would he even care? Would he be upset and do anything irrational? You never know with teenagers. I had an uneasy feeling. I wanted her to go a little slower in the break-up area, but how can you control the speed of teenage life?

She called me this morning from the meet. Her old boyfriend had texted her to say that his younger sister had attempted suicide by drinking an entire bottle of cold medicine and cutting her wrists. It was unnerving. Just too close to a premonition for my comfort.

I am going to try to find out the details later today and try to reach his mom. Although we didn't become close friends, we were acquaintances at work as well as in our private lives.

My daughter was very upset. I told her that this had nothing to do with her and to relax and we would talk about it when she got back into town.

I certainly don't mean to minimize his sister's attempt and I really hope the girl is okay, but at one point during my conversation with my daughter I admit that I wished it was just a desperate ploy for the boy to get my daughter's attention and his sister is in no danger at all. I don't know if that is right to think that way or not. I don't like for anyone to suffer and I don't wish her old boyfriend any pain, either. Mental anguish can be just as dangerous as physical pain.