No Good Deed goes Unpunished

My husband and I have the ability to sign people into a very popular California attraction.  We also get a certain amount of free tickets to give out or use as we see fit. Kinda cool thing, right?

I really do not enjoy going to this special place anymore and neither does my husband.  However, Just because I don't like it does not mean I should forget others don't like it.  I feel very fortunate and want to share our good fortune with others.   In fact, I enjoy doing so giving away my good fortune.  Well, I used to like sharing.  Now, I am not so sure. 

However, every time I do so share, I am the one who ends up annoyed and basically harassed.    After I write this post, I might piss off a lot of people but take this with a grain of salt.  This is not to point a finger at anyone person or say anything mean.  Just to show what I put up with in the name of giving and how funny it can actually be.  I love to give as much as I can to everyone I can.  I do not really expect anything in return.  However, sometimes a thank you would be great.  Remember I am a small time blogger that pokes fun at herself and her friends and family.  When you find yourself being angry at me, look at this paragraph and forgive me.  

In the beginning the tickets we received from this magical place were forever tickets and we could hoard them as we pleased.  Now, we have to use them or loose them in a certain amount of time.  I actually, like to see this place at Christmas time and I like to use those  expiring tickets when I cannot use my family pass to get in. 

What you are about to read are true events.  I did not make this up.  I wish I had.  

If I offer to sign you in or give you tickets, that means I want to do that.  I will do everything in my power to make it happen for you.  If you ask me to sign you in or give you tickets, I will do everything I can to make it happen for you.  I want to give this gift to you.  I do.  

Most people think that I can magically appear at this wonderful place with no real effort on my part.  As if I am a magical being and can blink and stardust and moon beams will carry me there.  No, it takes me about 45 minutes of driving time to get there.  I do not get free parking.  I have to pay just like everyone else.  I figured out that I can park where the shoppers park but I have to get there really early and I can only stay three hours or I end up having to pay after that.  Not once has anyone ever offered to pay for my gas, time of travel or parking.  I have taken my whole day off to accommodate people and my desire to get them into this place for free.  

I tell my friends that they need to leave themselves plenty of time to get there due to crazy traffic and to park because they cannot just park.  They will be diverted to far away parking places and bused or trammed in.  Then they will have their bags inspected. No one ever believes me.  I also tell them to give themselves time for insane family members because someone will always slow them down or be late.  I am always told that will not happen.  I am always right about this.  I wonder why no one believes me?

I used ask people to not be late.  Most people are always late.  I have waited up to two hours or more for people to  arrive.  They say they are sorry.  I know they are not a little bit sorry. To be honest I have stopped asking people to be on time.  Once I get the call that they are late for whatever reason they say, I tell them I will wait until whatever time and then leave.  They usually get there by then.  It is amazing how people will hurry up once the lady with the free pass is leaving.  

I do get a thank you and hugs after the sign in or tickets, but not once a thank you card or a gift.  Not that I really want these things but just once I would like a cookie or something.  Not that I need a cookie but gosh, Isn't my time worth anything to anyone?  

I was once asked to buy 8 adult tickets and 8 child tickets at my husbands discount and drive them to this persons house.  All at my expense and time.  She said she would pay me back.  That is a lot of money to fork over and hope that someone pays you back.  Almost three thousand dollars of reimbursement   This was one month after my brain surgery.  I told this person that she could give me the money and my husband would purchase the tickets for her and then she could pick them up.  She did not want to do this because it was not convenient for her.  She found another way to get tickets for her and her family.  She really wanted me to sign her in and give her tickets.  I might have misunderstood because I was only a month post op but that was my general understanding.  I could be wrong.  I hope I misunderstood. I really do.  

I have one friend who has a son,  I gave given him three free tickets over the course of two years.  Not once has he ever said thank you to me or my husband.  My friend has said thank you and I love her and would do anything for her.  I mentioned this to her and she was truly aghast.  She had thought that at least he would have at least sent a text.  Nope, not a word, her son is almost thirty.  

We gave two tickets to a young couple for watching our Pookie at our home recently.  We gave them as a gift.  They were thrilled and we were glad to do it.  Apparently, they left the tickets out and spilled something on them.  They asked, if we could give them more tickets or re-print them.  My husband told me that re-printing was not an option and no we would not give them more tickets.  I kinda snapped and told this young couple that these tickets were very expensive and most people took care of them by putting them in a safe place.   The young couple was appropriately chastised.  However, I felt bad for what I said.  Should I have given them more tickets?  Should I have not said that?

My husband used to sign people in for me because it was such a long drive and a real hassle.  One of my co-workers asked me to sign her, her granddaughter and some family members in.  I arranged it with my husband and he had his co-worker to get her whole family in for free.  They waited for two hours.  I had to call her and ask her were she was.  She called me back and said they changed their mind.  I was like what?  I told her to call my husband.  She sent him a text.  Oops...sorry.  No explanation.  My husband refuses to ever sign anyone in ever again after that incident.  He says people are assholes, completely ungrateful and undeserving.  Who does that?  She felt completely justified in her actions.  No guilt, no remorse.  

My husband will only sign in one family now.  We have one family that we know from church and we both adore them.  I think we would give body parts to them.  I would do anything for them and so would he.  We don't care, if they say thank you or not.  They are always on time and so very thankful.  They stood up for us, when we got married.  They are our family.  

Anyway, I think I have had enough and I will not offer to be a bearer of gifts any longer.  I am tired of others making me wait for ridiculous reasons while cars break down or family  members are late or whatever reasons hit the fan.  I am tired of being taken for granted and I am done.  I think the only people I will do for from now on is the one I mentioned before and for special occasion of my choosing.  Other than that I think it just is not worth it.  

Is it bad that I don't think the ends justify the means?  That the ungratefulness is so overwhelming and overt that I am taking a stand and my time is worth more to me than what I have put up with all these years in an effort to be good to others?  

I think this cow is closed.  Yep, that is it.  I am no longer going to offer no matter how much I know it would be a happy thing for someone.  If someone asks me, I am going to say no.  This makes me sad but I need to remember that I am worth more than being taken advantage of over and over again.  That my time is worth something.  I am worth something.  

I honestly think that most people do not mean to be such dicks but they end up being complete assholes because they are clueless and just simply do not care about anyone else but themselves and their own immediate self fulfillment.  Do you think this statement is mostly true?

So, I am stepping away from the situation once and for all and that it is.  What a relief, I feel better all ready.  

Now, today I signed in someone I really wanted to sign in  because he really is a great guy.  This person really deserved this.  What a pain in the ass, that was, yet that was the last time.  He was late.  He had car trouble and had no clue how to get into to this major California attraction had not been there for years.  I was beyond annoyed but I became inspired and decided that I would never do this again.  I made a promise to myself today.  I intend to keep it. 

What do you think?  Am I being a jerk about this?  Not giving away something I have that I won't use and don't care to use because I hate going there and all the strings that come with it?  I decide that my time is worth more than being wasted by others without reciprocation or appreciation, is this wrong?  Am I wrong?

Little girls and bad men

I was watching this movie today about this young woman.  She was a blogger.  She was 18 years old and decided to defer a year before starting college.  She was anonymous and blogged mostly about her promiscuous sex life.  

I almost changed the channel.  I so rarely turn on the TV and I was just about to turn it off but something made me continue to watch the movie.  The movie was about how this girl was molested as a young girl of six and how this changed her life forever.  

She was not penetrated but simply petted by the old man next door.  She even admitted to having liked it.  She had a suicide attempt at the age of 13 after an older boy refused her advances.  There were all the signs of someone who was molested.  Liking older controlling men, self loathing, no sense of self and the list went on.  Turns out the story was true.  She ended up pregnant and then one day disappeared.  There was no real conclusion to the story.  

I want to say I was very uncomfortable with this story and it made me very angry.  I want to tell you why.  

I had blocked most of my childhood away in a little tidy box or most of it anyway.  I get small snip its of my younger life but I want to say that most of it is censored heavily by me.  I never knew why until one night at, when I was visiting one of my dearest friends house.  

My friend had just gone through a very nasty and bitter divorce and moved into a beautiful townhouse.  I had come over with my daughter in tow to have a sleep over with her and her kids.  The children were sleeping upstairs and we were drinking wine from her amazing collection downstairs.  

We were talking men and it was very late.  We began to talk sex like most women do after a few bottles of wine and then we began to be specific.  The subject of blow jobs came up and then I blurted out that my first blow job was at the age of four.  I was like what the hell?  Who give a blow job at four?

I just stared at my friend and she stared at me.  The tears started to stream down my face.  I began to shake with shame and self loathing.  My memory came blaring back to me in technicolor.  I remembered something that I had stuffed in my do not remember file.  Thank God I was with one of my best friends for life.  Without her, I would have not been able to get through my suppressed memory.  

I grew up in suburban Orange County in bedroom community.  The kids played outside with each other all day after school until the street lights came on and all day everyday during the summer.  We were all friends and we knew our neighbors.  I know that is a shocker to most folks these days, but it is the truth.  

My brothers were playing basketball at the kids house down the street and I went there to watch.  Girls didn't play basketball with boys back then.  Anyway, the boy who lived there asked me to help him with something in the house.  I did not think anything of it and I went with him.  He was my brothers age, I think 12 maybe?  Anyway, he took me into the laundry room and he made me do what most girls don't do until they are well into their thirties.  I remember trying to fight him because it was really icky.  

To be honest I don't remember the actual act.  That part is a ken doll blur.  I am thankful for that.  I don't remember the after part or walking home.  I do remember finding my mom in the middle of laundry and asking her about this horrible new game that the kid down the street made me play and, if I had to play it with all the boys?  My mom was horrified and I think I had to brush my teeth and was given a bath immediately with a hair washing and comb out.  Maybe ice-cream was involved.  Not sure, I was four.  

The next morning at my friends house, I called my mom and asked her, if my memory was true.  She was surprised I did not remember the incident.  I told her no, not until that previous night and to much wine.  I did not mention the conversation leading up to it because I did not want to traumatize her.  I figured that just by being her daughter I was enough drama and trauma.  She didn't need to know I was talking about sex.

I asked her to tell me everything.  She told me that when my dad got home that night she sent him over to the kids house to speak to his parents and they refused to believe what had happened.  My dad almost beat up his dad and said that their kids were not allowed to play with his kids any longer.  That family moved away a few months later.  Thank God.  

I do know that I suffer from a very low self esteem and I gravitate towards men who are very controlling.  I was changed from that one event in my life.  Think of those young girls who are sexually abused and tortured again and again.  What that must do to them, if that one time in a laundry room did that to me?  I came from a loving intact home. Some girls do not come from homes like mine.   I think it is a horrible thing when young girls are not safe in their own neighborhoods or homes.  That their very souls can be corrupted by anyone and they are changed forever.  I know I was. 

I was lucky, I had a very loving mother and father who did everything to ensure that never happened again.  In fact, I was installed with such a paranoia to protect myself from harm, I have been safe ever since.  Yes, silly things happen to me all the time but nothing like that again.  

Why do I feel compelled to tell you this?  I want all parents to be aware that anything can happen to our children at the drop of a hat.  That anyone, even the boy next door can be the devil and destroy your child's innocence in a few minutes.  

I grew up and was relatively normal and felt loved.  My issues were small and I found a way to stand firm and become a better person through almost every hurdle I have come across with my family, husband and the good Lord by my side.  However, most are not as blessed as I am.  

I ask you to keep your children and grandchildren close and be very watchful and alert.  Watch out for the neighborhood.  If you get that feeling that one of the neighbors is a creeper, they probably are.  

If something does happen to one of your children, get them some help and stand by them.  They will be changed, who would not be.  Just remember to love them no matter what.  

Old ladies and little white dogs

My Goal today was to sleep and not do anything.  I am awake and drinking peppermint tea and toast at 0730.  Why am I awake at this hour on a Saturday?  My dog, that is why.  She wanted to be cuddled.  So, I had to cuddle her.  

My dog is named, Pookie.  She is a little white dog that weighs almost six pounds and I love this dog.  She is my child.  I did not think it possible to love an animal as much as I love this dog, I do.  

I have had several dogs in my life and each one I have loved.  Each one I think that I love as much as I love as a child.  This dog is different.  She is my child.  Why do I say this?  Because, I know that it is true.  

OK, lets back tract.  I had a similar dog named Gracie.  I rescued gracie from a puppy mill.  Gracie had lived her first nine months as a pack of fifty breeder dogs and her teeth were rotting out of her mouth.  The breeder thought she was to big to breed and gave her to me only because we were friends.  I had to bring her back after she had gone through two seasons and then she would breed her to a very small male in hopes of making small white dogs.  I agreed. She ended up having one litter of puppies.  

My daughter and I fell in love with gracie.  We had to pull all her teeth and she lived her life with a tongue that lolled out of her mouth and she had to eat soft food.  She did not play with toys or cuddle.  She liked to simply be near me.  She would be by my side not matter what.  Follow me room to room and she was happy.  That was gracie.  

She died at the age of 13, three months before Cassidy went away to college.  I was devastated.  Then Cassidy was gone.  I was in a car accident and my four runner was totaled.  One sad Mama in the house and my husband had no idea what to do.  He decided that he needed to take his wife to Egypt.  

We went to Egypt in 2012 right after the big revolution.  It was amazing and relatively safe.  There were 12 people on our tour only four were from America.  The rest were from Australia and Canada.  We toured the Nile on a paddleboat and had a great time.  However, as soon as we got home, there was no dog and no child.  I was sad all over again.  

Within three days of being home my husband told me to find another little white dog.  He said he could not stand to have me so broken hearted and lost.  

We found ourselves at the home of some evangelist christians.  I think the father of the family was a paster or something.  I don't know why but that was my general feeling from him.  They had a cross collection over their fireplace.  My only thought about that was that they would be very safe from previously catholic vampires. The crosses were painted in primary colors and haphazardly arranged.  A very bold decorating choice, if I don't say so myself.  

Anyway, he was home during the week along with his wife.  We did not meet her.  She was upstairs on some sort of conference call.  His little girl was with him downstairs along with three little puppies.  

We sat down on the family room couch.  I had with my Louis Vuitton handbag.  I only mention it because I had just obtained it.  I was so excited about it.  It is one of those bucket bags.  I thought I could put the puppy in it.  I also had a pink baby blanket.  

I forgot about my bag and the blanket the minute the tiniest puppy came lopping up to me.  I picked her up and it was love.  The little girl started to cry and I did not know what to do so I sat her down and tried to bond with the other puppies but the dad told her that she knew eventually that, "Tiny Tina" would be taken.  

I put the puppy I had in my hands down and Tiny Tina came running back to me.  She jumped in my hands and I don't think she has ever been out of them since.  We paid the family and took her home.  I did not put her in my over priced hand back or the pink blanket.  I just carried her as it.  

She fell asleep on the way home in the car and I carried her into our home and outside.  I set her on the grass and she opened her big brown eyes.  It was like she had never seen grass.  I could believe it because the carpet in that house was full of stains and puppy poop.  She began to jump over the very tall grass (she was maybe 1.5 pounds at the time) and frolic with such joy and happiness my husband and I were entranced.  We were in love.  

We took her to the vet immediately and got her puppy shots and then to PetCo so we could get her everything a puppy could ever want.  It was, if an older couple had finally been granted the adoption of a baby they had been waiting for.  This puppy was showered with love and gifts beyond comprehension.  

We still had not named her because we did not like the name Tina.  We tried all sorts of names and I even asked my Facebook family.  Finally, Pookie stuck.  She really is a Pookie.  

She loves her toys and plays with everything in her basket.  I get her groomed, the same week I get my hair done, every four weeks.  She has her teeth cleaned regularly because I do not want her to be toothless like gracie was.  We walk all the time and she even has a stroller for the long walks that her little body cannot endure.  My brother bought me the stroller because he did not want me to stop walking.  

In my heart, I know she is not a real baby but she really does make me happy and fills the void of my only baby that has left the nest.  She will never grow up and stays in a perma baby state that is really fun.  To be honest I would rather have my real baby here with me about the age of seven forever but that is completely unrealistic and not practical at all.  So, I have a little white dog. 

Now, I understand why old ladies have little dogs.  When I was younger, I did not understand why so many old ladies had these stupid yappy dogs that they dressed up and took every where.  I get it.  I am now one of them.  Life really is a circle or a wheel or whatever.  

What do you think?  Do you think that old ladies such as myself should ditch our yappy dogs and do charity work to fill the void of our empty nests?  Or, should we just enjoy our yappy dogs and be happy with the infrequent visits of our children and let the joy of being older be what it is?  

I think that this old lady should do whatever makes her happy and that the other old ladies should do what makes them happy.  Be it little dogs or big dogs, crochet, go go dancing or cougar activity.  Then again, I have never thought one thought that was even close to what anyone else thinks.  

Our gifts and what we do with them

I always wonder why people tell me things I don't want to hear?  I ask myself, if my ability to evoke strange confessions from almost everyone I have ever met or have known is a gift or a curse.  I can simply be eating apple slices at lunch or looking at towels in a department store and some person unknown to me or known will whisper or speak rather loudly some odd and freakish tidd bit to me.

I am one who has never learned to school my facial expressions.  I will be just minding my own business eating or doing all the things I do and I will hear something unbelievable.  Instantly my mind  tells me to keep my face still.  I know that my face is in some contorted outward mask that I cannot maintain in a passive expression and I blow it every time.  Yet, I just can't help it.  I am the dork of all dorks.  

I have heard the oddest things.  I usually am sworn to the ultimate of secrecy so I can't say what I have heard.  Bummer, right?  I would love to go on and on about the yummy gossip that has been whispered in my ear.  Then, I have completely forgotten most of what most people tell me in secret anyway because I don't want to mess up and tell someone their confidences.  I call this wipe mode.  I pretend I am a computer and someone just wiped my memory stick.  It is a very handy skill.  I suggest you use it in an emergency.  The memory wipe thing.  It is not as affective as the Scarlett O'Hara thing but just as good in a fix.  

Then what is it about me that makes others all comfy and cozy around me? I think some people seem to think I am a confessional?  Maybe it is my enormous boobies?  Or my soft middle that makes me all safe and pillow like.  Kinda like a happy old  familiar couch.  I don't know.  Sometimes I like it, sometimes I don't?  Sometimes I feel like every ones mother or sister.  Mostly, I feel like a really good friend.  

It is good to be every ones friend.  Mostly.  Then again, sometimes I just don't want to know the deepest secrets of everyone I know or don't know.  I have grown to like my life in a bubble.  In my youth, I was all up to date and modern.  I knew things.  I don't know anything now.  I am so not of this world.  I live in a happy bubble of mediocrity and am shocked very easily.  When I was younger, nothing shocked me.  Now, my shock button goes off all the time.  Some days, I am surprised I don't die of the successive shocks that go through my body.  

So, what is a girl to do?  I found myself for a long time in hiding.  I would avoid having long conversations with people or not ask questions to evoke a pouring out of anyones soul.  I would do things to cut myself off from people in general just to avoid the daily draining deluge of conversations.  I was almost a recluse.  

Then I realized something.  What the hell?  God gave me a spark.  He gave me a gift, not a curse.  Instead of hiding I began to just listen again and be who I was supposed to be.  Maybe I am not the most beautiful woman, thin woman or in shape woman on this planet but I know how to listen and I know how to be a friend.  At least I try.  Sometimes I think my head is full of glitter and rainbows but I do give it my best effort everyday.  

So, this is what I do, I listen.  I don't really give all that much advice because I don't have that much of that stuff to give.  I learned to just accept people for who and what they are.  Accept and love for what ever and who ever they are.  Yes, I might belly ache and have issues about a lot of character flaws but in the end  I just had to learn to ...well as the Beatles would have said, "Let it be".  

What do you think?  Does everyone have a gift?  I think that everyone has several gifts and that it is our duty to live up to our gifts to the best of our ability.  

  

Romantic love or real love? What do favor?

I have this thing about relationships and how they figure into our lives.  Maybe that is not what I mean.  Maybe I want to say, how is it that a relationship can change each of us so profoundly and then be gone in a heartbeat?  Or a relationship that is there day in and day out that really has no effect on a person whatsoever.  Perhaps I should explain myself further.  

I am amazed at how we each touch each others souls and change each other.  How we can be part of each others lives and entangled and then suddenly the tangle is undone and no more.  As if we are just a puff of smoke or a cloud that passes by as the wind dictates.  A minute in each others lives or a decade or so and then gone.  I wonder why that is?  Some of us stop by for decades to meddle in each others days and hours, some of us stop by for a few days or even years.  There seems to be no reason or rhyme.  It is as if, there is a secret song that only the earth and sea can hear and we are the dancers.  I don't know.  I only dance to the secret tune and so do you.  I ask only why do we have to dance at all. 

When we are young we can be friends with anyone.  We meet another young person and they are our best friends for the day, our best friends for life.  At least we think that as we play our childhood games.  We think that  for this day we are friends and or friendship will last forever.  It amazes us that as the day ends and our parents take us home, so does our friendship.  We forget our friend and our new friends name with the setting of the sun.  It is different as we age. We would no sooner become friends with a stranger than drink poison.  How we grow so cold and ridged as we age.  

We go on throughout our lives and meet people and make connections and hope to meet good friends and find that so few people are to be trusted with our hearts as far as friends go.  We have been hurt, our hearts broken by our so called friends.  We have been destroyed, distraught perhaps betrayed by them.  There were so few that could be true friends.  Maybe that is how God wants it.  You have to earn your friends and they have to earn you.  Through the ashes a true friend will come through the fire and coals to become that one deserved friend.  A friend that is earned.  One friend or maybe two that can be fire worthy.  I have a few friends I can call fire resistant friends.  They know who they are.  

Then there are the lovers.  Movies, TV shows and books tell us that there is this elusive romantic love that we all must seek.  I am not convinced of this romantic lover that I am told I must have.  I believe that there is one heart that will connect with mine and will speak the same language as I do.  That God or whomever you call God has ordained this union through all time and eternity ...perhaps infinity and I will join with this person to create a relationship with which to enrich each other, bring goodness, kindness and prosperity to this union.  At least I hope so.  To what end then is there a reason to be in love?

I believe that being deeply in love is a wonderful thing and this love comes with time and a lot of work.  I don't know about all the weak kneed love struck thing but I do know real love and what I have seen on TV and read in books is not it.   am so not a heaving bosom type of girl.  

I think that the love between a child and a parent or between friends is one of the greatest loves there is.  The love between a husband and wife who have been married for years is true love.  The love of a mother sitting by her child's sick bed is another form of real love.  The love that God has for us is the best love of all. Romantic love seems so fleeting and shallow compared to what is real and worth working for.   I would rather work for something real than have something fake any day.  Wouldn't you?

When I step back and look at the rope we weave that entwines us all together, I think crap I never will figure this out.  Nope, not even close.  

I suppose it is like looking at a beautiful meadow and instead of trying to figure out the complicated eco system it is, I need to be pleased with the wonder of it. OK, I can do that.  I will just enjoy being part of life and the relationships that surround me.  I will always questions them and look oddly at them from time to time but I can simply treasure the joy that simply is.  

So, I ask you, how do you feel that relationships work?  Do you feel that there is such thing as romantic love such as TV and books?  Or, do you think there is something deeper to it?  

Princess Rap

My Husband showed me something on YouTube last night.  He shared me this bit on Cinderella and Belle.  Apparently, they have a rap on YouTube.  

princess rap battle  (I hope I linked this correctly.  Anyway, it is on Youtube, funny stuff)


I watched this clip and I thought of my cousin.  I have talked about her before. You know the one that was so little and perfect.  The one who dumped me for a pony.  

I suppose you would say she was Cinderella and I was Belle.  Except, back then there was no Beauty and the Beast movie to compare me to.  I was this big clod of a girl who could never compare to her perfect teeny tiny blondness.  Good Lord she practically floated she was so light.  She was and is a very nice person which makes it worse.  Except the dumping your best friend for a pony thing.  That was really mean.  Even though I really get it.  What young girl wouldn't dump her best friend since birth for a pony?  Oh...me.  I would never do that.  You think I might be a little bitter over this?  Just a little....  Not really.  I love my cousin.  I just like to tease her.  

Me, I loved my books and stories.   I usually pick the people that are not always the obvious winners.  Like Belle picks the Beast and not Gaston.  Gaston was the good looking guy that everyone thought she should have fallen in love with.  She chose the beast because he had the truest heart.  That is me.  I always choose the people who have the the best hearts.  Even thought most people can't see them.  

Anyway, The princesses in the rap battle go back and forth about who is better and why.  My cousin and I used to have a fights like that.  We had one fight that was epic.  I am a natural brunette.  I dye my hair.  I won't lie about that.  In fact, I love hair dye.  Funnest thing ever, this hair dye thing.  If I could get away with pink hair, I would.  Usually, professional people do not have pink hair.  

Anyway,  one day my cousin went all crazy on me because her hairbrush had brown hair in it.  This brush had so much blond hair in it you could not even see the bristles.  I think there was one brown hair in it.  She started to yell at me that blond hair was better than brown hair and that I was not to use her hairbrush.  I countered that blonds were stupid and brunettes were smarter and I could use her brush any time I liked. We ended up in a fist fight over that stupid brush.  I think we were nine. 

Just watching that princess rap made me think that, if my cousin and I were to fight today like we did back then about who was the better "princess" it would have been very similar to that princess rap battle.  

Clearly there could never be a winner.  Each princess is unique and is beautiful and brings gifts and talents to this world.  Maybe, each princess needs to just be happy with who she is and love the other princesses.  

In my experience there will always be someone younger and prettier who comes along.  Someone smarter, with more education, who has more money or connections and basically wipes the floor with you.  Who cares?  Just do the best with what you have and be happy for everyone else.  If you truly are happy for everyone else then you won't need a princess rap battle.  Although, it was really funny, I had to watch it twice. 

I suppose this is were I could go on about how we as women make it so hard on ourselves.  That basically we are our own worst enemies.  That we are so busy being in competition with each other, bringing each other down, calling each other names, trying to get the better spouse or stabbing each other in the back we block ourselves from ruling the world.  Just because we want to be the prettiest princess.  

I say, be your own pretty princess.  Be happy in your own heart.  Be happy with what ever it is that you want to do in your life and live the way you want to live.  No need for rap battle of the princesses.  Who cares who has the best purse, shoes or tiara   I love those things but only get them for my enjoyment and not at the cost of something greater.  

I challenge all my friends be you a male or female to be your own prince or princess without bringing others down.  This is a tough one.  Can you do it?  

Life without religion. Life without faith.

I keep thinking about faith and religion.  I have had the pleasure of meeting my daughters best friend.  She is really neat.  I like her a lot.  Most young people are really so not interesting and quite annoying.  I would like to say that most of my daughters friends are very intriguing and intelligent.  This friend of hers did not disappoint.  

I was able to have some really intense conversations with my daughter and her friend.  One of them was the topic of religion and faith.  I learned that she was not raised to believe in Heavenly Father or any religion whatsoever.  She did not believe in any higher power, God or any form of anything at all.  She believes that once she dies the light turns out and that she is simply over.  

I think my heart broke.  Just the end part of my heart, not my whole heart.   I don't know why this bothered me.  Intellectually this is absolutely fine with me.  I have no problem with parents raising their children without any God figure.  On the other hand, when meeting a child raised without a path to enlightenment previously installed, I had a moment of such deep sadness that I stopped breathing for a moment.  How could this be?  My faith was jarred just ever so slightly.  

 I looked into this young women's eyes and asked her, if she felt a presence other than her own guiding light or her own heart speaking to her?   She assuredly told me she knew of no such presence or guiding light.  She did say that her heart did speak to her.  She felt as if there was no omnipotent figure and knew this to be true.  She said that having faith in such things was ridiculous.  

She did tell me of going to her grandmothers church on occasion and sitting in a pew.  She told me that her grandmother and her grandmothers friends would give her pieces of bread throughout the service and that she would have a pile of bread by the time the service was over.  She had no idea what the bread was for.  She did not mention any of the words of the service.  She only mentioned piles of bread and little old ladies who wanted her to eat the bread without any explanation.  Like eating bread without any reason makes it more than bread.  Sure it does.  

Then I got to thinking about faith.  So, just say....You don't believe in anything other than what you can quantify.  You are a science type of person and you need proof and faith is this flower child idea that seems so elusive and cloud like.   How could anyone have faith in something they can't see or feel?  My faith is shaky at best.  I always question everything.  How can someone who does not know God believe or has never had faith in the first place even begin to believe?  

In my heart of hearts I could not argue with her because how could I sway someone from their inner truth.  This would be the same as allowing another to persuade me that my inner truth was wrong.  This is something I cannot nor will I never do.  This is so completely wrong that no one ever should do this.  Perhaps this is the greatest sin of all.  Maybe not, or maybe yes, I cannot say.   

I felt so lost for her.  I grieved for her ability to not know.  Yet, she was not lost nor did she grieve for herself.  I struggled with the thought of parents not sharing with her the ways of a spiritual choice nor a path to choose instead of one of nothing but an end of darkness.  I had thought that a more complete parent would allow a child to choose or at least give their child a more complete education and the ability to choose wisely.  Then again who am I to say?  

I suppose I believe life is this amazing buffet with all these choices available to choose and sample.  As a parent, I think that all of life has to offer should be known to our children.  In the end or children will choose for themselves and it is our choice to accept or deny their choice.  I always choose to stand by my only daughter no matter what her choice.  Except, breaking one of the Ten Commandments then we have words. 

Heavenly Father is my Father and he forgives all.  He has millions of sons and daughters to look after.   I only have one.  I suppose, if he can forgive all of them and me, I can forgive my one.  If he can love me no matter what choice I make, I can love her no matter what choice she makes.  Simple enough, right?  Isn't that the example he sets?  Then it makes sense, I follow his example.  

So, back to my first thought.  What to do with my daughters best friend?  I suppose there is nothing to do.  Other than just accept her and love her like my own.  My husband and I had already decided to make her our "new daughter".  She is completely loved already regardless, if she believes in a higher power or not.  

I pose a question.  Is this wrong of us to not preach to her about God?  Is it wrong of us to  try and not convert her to Christianity?  Or is it right of us to accept her as she is and love her as she is and let her be happy being our new daughter and being who she is.  

What do you think?