The Lady with the Flashlght Eyes

“You killed my son, and now you must die.”

No, this is not the last thing my exmother-in-law said to me……although THAT is definitely material for a later blog…or therapy session…or both.

But I digress.

No, that line was spoken by a lady who terrorized me in two (maybe three) different states. A lady who still makes it impossible for me to sleep with drawers, cupboard doors or closet doors open. A lady who haunted my dreams for 5 years: The Lady with the Flashlight Eyes. Yeah, laugh now….go ahead. We’ll see if you’re still laughing at the end.
I don’t remember how old I was when I had the first dream. Maybe twelve? Maybe thirteen? But I certainly remember that first dream:
It is almost night, and somehow, I am alone, at the bottom of the hill. The wind is whipping around me, and it has begun to rain. I know I must make it up the hill quickly, before the rain makes the hill insurmountable, and forces me to walk home the long way. And “the long way”, would mean that I would be walking in the dark. I struggle up the hill, ignoring the whispering wind, pulling my jacket away from the grasping tree limbs, pushing my damp hair back from my face. The ground is quickly becoming a muddy stream. I frantically grab at the tall weeds to keep from falling.
“Can I help you, dear?” A voice and a hand appear from the top of the hill. “Yes,” I respond, taking the hand, “ thank you.”
The hand belongs to a woman – maybe in her thirties or forties. She has a broad face, and wild curly brown hair. But her eyes….are strange. In the setting light, it’s hard to tell the color. Are they brown? Black? Is the light playing a trick on my eyes? For it seems as if there is no white—
“What is a lovely young girl like you doing out?”
“Oh, I’m not out, m’am. I’m on my way home. See? That’s my house right down the street,” I answered, pointing to my house halfway down the block.
“Oh, I see. And where were you? Were you out with friends?”
“No, I was babysitting,” I responded. “How come the house is so dark? Aren’t Mom and Dad home yet?” I thought to myself.
“Oh, so you were earning money. How responsible of you.”
“Huh? I’m sorry, I was distracted. What did you say?”
I turn to look at her, just as the last beam of sunlight disappeared. And yes, her eyes are black! There is no white part around the outs---but wait! What’s happening to her eyes? They’re glowing….they’re growing, bigger. Shining—
“I said, how responsible!” She grabs both of my arms, and pulls me close, closer to those shining orbs that reside where her eyes had been, “now that you’ve killed my son, you become responsible! Well, you still must die! You killed my son, and now you must die!”
I break free and run! Run as fast as I can to the door. But I can hear her laughing, almost cackling, “ You must die! You killed my son! I can follow you anywhere! You killed—“
I grab the door handle, and run inside, slamming the door behind me.
“Mom! Dad! Are you here? Hurry! Mom!?!?!?”

“Missy! We’re right here!”
I sit, bolt up in my bed.
“Mom? Dad?”
“Missy. It’s okay. You just had a bad dream. Are you okay?”

Tune in for the next segment of….of course…..The Lady with the Flashlight Eyes.

"No Blood, A Small Man and Condoms"…or "How I spent my Birthday"

After coercing Jade to write her bloody condom story – she has told me I must write my condom story – which,I promise, is not nearly as funny as hers – but it is true, and it is mine – so, here we go.

Drew and Ryan threw a lovely birthday for me last year, complete with champagne and other lovely spirits, lovely food, and absitively-poslutely lovely little waiters serving all. Of course, anytime that the party elements are involved, the conversation turns to sex.
“Airplane Jayne,” announced Drew, “we are tired of you being dateless. So we bought you a date.”
“I hope it’s Martin, the cute blonde waiter” I responded excitedly.
“No,” retorted Drew, “he’s gay. You can’t have him.”
“Stop it Drew!” admonished Ryan, “we don’t know if he’s gay. We just know you want to--!”
Drew interrupted, “Yes he is if I say he is! Anyway, PBj, err I mean APj, we bought you a man, and he’s naked – here!”
Without further ado, he presents me with a 6 inch man.
--yes that’s a 6 inch man – imagine the length of his pe—
“Just what am I suppose to do with him?” I asked.
“Well dahling,” cooed Drew, “throw him in the water, and he GROWS….to FIVE FEET”
I quickly calculated in my head the new anticipated height and length of his body parts – and threw him in the hot tub.
“Can I get you something?” asked Martin, the cute blonde waiter.
“Well, can you find me a towel for my date?”
“Date? Where is your date?” Martin alarmedly asked.
“Oh, that’s him, the 6 inch guy in the hot tub. I’m waiting for him to –err—expand.”
Martin, a bit confused, smiled sheepishly, and went in search of a towel….
“APj!” called Superman Steve, “Kajsa and I have a special present for you.”
I turned away from my hot-tubbing date, because...well, because a present is a present!!!

“Presents! I love presents! But make it quick! I’ve got a man in the tub waiting for me!”

“Yes, yes, APj. We’ve bought you something special—“
“Yes, “interjected Kajsa, “very special – and useful. But there really wasn’t time to wrap them”
Steve handed me a lovely green silk jewelry box.
“Oh, it’s lovely!” I gushed.
“But wait!” teased Steve, “We’ve put some –well, some jewelry inside.”

Okay, now every girl loves jewelry, right? I began to quiver in excitement. I do so love the anticipation. I slowly opened the lid. What could it possibly be? Earrings? A necklace? A bracel—

“Jayne?” came Martin’s soft voice in my ear, “here’s the towel for your date.”

Of course, a soft male voice in my ear slightly startled me
–hey, what do you expect after a long dry spell?
-- and I dropped my jewelry box --
--and all the lovely jewels came tumbling out.
--all forty of them.

“FORTY WHAT!?!?!?” I hear you screaming.

The room erupted as I embarrassedly bent to retrieve all my jewels, scattered across the floor. Drew retrieved my date, still only 6 inches tall with miniscule other parts, from the hot-tub.
“Oh PBj, I mean APj sweetie, I don’t think the jewels will fit on your date’s jewels!”

So Steve is picking up my condoms. Kajsa is picking up my condoms. Edwina and Pat are laughing and picking up my condoms. Martin, ever the gentleman, grabbed as many as he could. As he placed the twenty-or-so condoms in my hand, he said, “oh, by the way: I’m not gay”

My inner selves...

So...
Lecram found this site that told him how intelligent he is (70%scientific and 70% emotional) --
and yes, SSM, I agree with you: the math (140%) just doesn't add up!
Hel-LO, I used to do accounting and statistics!
So I took the test --
STUPID!
Yes -- the test is --
--but according to the test, so am I: 40% scientific and 65% emotional. See? Even those numbers don't add up. Dumb test.
But of course, it was a QUIZ site (Lecram, stop finding them. You know how I get with them.....)
So....I found out that I am:

a Ninja You scored 8 Honor, 4 Justice, 5 Adventure, and 6 Individuality!

You are a soldier of the night. You rely on no more than your cunning and your repuation to strike fear in the hearts of lord and peasant alike. You've a sense of honor, but one that comes from within, not imposed from outside. Black clothes and shuriken for you. You're gonna do just fine.

--hmmmm.....looks like RockstarMan won't be the only one in black....

And now....for something completely different:

the Cutting Edge (61% dark, 46% spontaneous, 15% vulgar)

your humor style: CLEAN SPONTANEOUS DARK Your humor's mostly innocent and off-the-cuff, but somehow there's something slightly menacing about you. Part of your humor is making people a little uncomfortable, even if the things you say aren't themselves confrontational. You probably have a very dry delivery, or are seriously over-the-top. Your type is the most likely to appreciate a good insult and/or broken bone and/or very very fat person dancing. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: David Letterman - John Belushi The'>http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=17565214125862764376">The 3-Variable Funny Test! - it rules - If you're interested, try my latest: The'>http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=18048702267320519909">The Terrorism Test

Okay - so get me in a dark room, do something spontaneous, and not too vulgar -- and yes... I'll probably laugh....

Coming Out of the Closet!

What kind of learner are you? Some people are auditory learners – they have to hear it. Some are kinesthetic learners – gotta move. Me? I tend to be a visual learner – I gotta see it. And, being as I’m a visual kinda gal, I tend to think that other people are visual learners also. So sometimes, when someone isn’t getting what I’m saying – well I gotta show ‘em….I gotta give ‘em a visual lesson.

Hmmm, I can hear you saying, “What kind of visual lesson, APj?”

Not that kind of visual, you dirtyminded Rogues. Hmmm, let me think……Okay! Got it!

THE CLOSET LESSON

“What the hell happened in the bedroom!?!?!?!?” I screamed down the hall to Mike, aka Voldemort.

“Huh?” came the answer from the living room couch. Well, not actually from the couch; more from the lump-of-possibly-human-flesh on said couch. I say “possibly” because there was this new hunk of metal that appeared permanently melded to his hand, pointing towards the TV, and I didn’t remember my husband as having anything firm, hard, metal or hunky in his hand…..for a loooonnnng time.

“What happened in the bedroom!?!?!?” I repeated, “It looks like a bomb exploded on my side of the closet – blowing all my clothes out!”

“Oh, quit having a cow! I got satellite TV, and they had to get into the attic to hook it up. Look at all these channels we can ge….” and the voice trailed off as his eyes glazed over. I started to ask again, but could tell that he was captured in the thrail of her web.

But meanwhile, back at the ranch – or actually, back in my bombed bedroom: every stitch of clothing I owned was crumpled in a heap on the floor. In his hurry to bond with his new lover, Sad E. Lite, Voldemort had hurriedly removed my clothes for easy access, and discarded them on the floor.
“Honey! Aren’t you gonna help me put this back? I mean, come on! I’ve been working all da—“

“Jesus H. Christ, Jayne! It’s no big f-ing deal! Quitcherbitchin!”

“No big deal?” I thought to myself, “my clothes are all over the floor, he’s making luv to Sad E Lite in my living room, and it’s no big deal?” I began to hang up the clothes, and with each hanger, I became…well, a little more enraged. –and logic doesn’t coexist with rage very well…….and, well, something kinda snapped.

“No big deal?!?” I muttered aloud. “Humph! I’ll show him no big deal!” I casually strolled to his side of the closet.

I removed his clothing from the closet.
I carefully deposited his clothing in a neat, NOT crumpled pile, NOT heap, on the floor.
And I calmly crawled into bed, and went to sleep.

Of course, two hours later, when Voldemort and Sad E Lite were finished making love, Voldemort came to bed.
And discovered his clothing on the floor.
And went ballistic.

“What the fuck? Jayne, what the fuck!?!? You’re fucking nuts! What the hell—“

“Oh, come on honey,” I responded, sleepily, yet slyly, “ Quitcherbitchin! It’s really no big f-ing deal, right?”

Toot Toot! Awwww, beep beep!

You Are a Bad Girl

You are 30% Good and 70% Bad You're a total bad girl, from your wild hair to tattooed toes. But you're too badass to even care if you're labeled "bad"!

Are You a Good Girl or a Bad Girl?

Bad Girl, Sad Girl, such a dirty bad girl.BeepBeep!

Okay, this is obviously a mistake......just because of some poor choices DECADES AGO, I'm forever labeled a "bad girl?" Geez! I don't even have a tattoo.....
Okay, this is all Lelly's fault! she said she was Mango scent - and made me go to a site with quizes. Which is always bad for people like me.
People like me?
Yes.

Hello, my name is APj, and I am a quizaholic.
Hello APj.

Yes, I have been a quizaholic ever since I discovered the Internet. I have discovered my Anime name, my Disney character, and even my bodacious ta-ta's names (Tweedledee and Tweedledum). And now this....

However, some other things I learned from these quizes were that

1. My 80's heartthrob is Scott Baio. Yes, I'll admit it. I, along with Joanie, really did luv Chachi.

2. My "retro girl" identity is 1980's goth girl. Okay, this one is sooooo no. 1980 goth girl was my daughter in the 1990's.

3. My life as a John Cusack movie would be "Say Anything."

Duh! No-shit-sherlock! Any guy willing to stand outside my bedroom window in the rain with a boombox --hey, you had me at, "In Your Eyes...."

4.My scent is Lemon. Which, according to this site, means I'm vivacious, tangy and lively. And one gigantic ball of energy.

liking the whole vivacious thing. tangy's okay too. but come on! do we gotta say "gigantic?"

5. and finally, my "love quote." which, I must say, is a doozy:

"Good kissers are strong men who will have your back. Bad kissers are weak men who will just like to grab your butt."

Okay, my back or my butt -- I thought kisses were on the face?

Boy....a lot has changed since I last dated....

--Just a friendly game of tag....

10 years ago.
“Erynn?”
“Yes, Mummy.”
“Erynn? Do you think you can tell if Mummy stops breathing?”
Yup! Here we go again, with another one of “those” stories: APj in dire straits (future, not the band) and facing possible death. I had not been feeling well: Fever, racing pulse, elevated blood pressure, dizzy. After a few days, I had gone to the doctor, who had run some blood tests. He said I had Graves Disease – a thyroid problem. He told me it could be serious – that I had to get treatment for it – but that he couldn’t do a thing about it for two weeks. I figured, “Bloody hell! Two weeks!?!? Must not be that serious…” And yet, two days and one evening later, there I sat on the couch, asking my then-9-year-old daughter if she would be able to tell if I was dead….
Realizing that I wasn’t being fair to Erynn, and was in fact scaring the shit out of her, I called a neighbor to take me to the Emergency Room. As I was wheeled into the Emergency Room, I flashed
--not that kind of flash, dirty Rogues!
--I flashed my test results. My resting pulse was 140 beats per minute. My blood pressure was 190/110. The doctor said I was lucky that I didn’t have a stroke or heart attack.
Eighteen months of grueling quasi-holistic treatment followed. One of the most unpleasant side effects was a 30 pound weight gain in 45 days. But, on the pleasant side, I now have a fully functional thyroid. No medication or surgery necessary, although my thyroid now operates at a snail’s pace – making weight issues a constant battle.

5 years ago
Easy one! The millennium! I had been working as an assistant Controller for the same company for 17 years, but I had always said, “Someday, I’m going back to school to be a teacher.” Unfortunately, my someday had kept getting delayed – for one reason or the other. But this was the year I turned 40 (Oh lordy, do the math!!!) “Jayne,” I told my self sternly, “This is it. You either go back and get your teaching credential, or you just shut up about the teaching thing!”
Most of you have figured out that -- I JUST CAN’T SHUT UP!!!!!!
So – I went back to school! I received my bachelor’s degree in Business Management (yeah, I know – doesn’t fit with the personality, eh?) and then started the credential program. It took 2 ½ years to do it all – but I did. And yes, I’m very proud of myself, thank you very much.

1 year ago
Okay, I’m gonna tell this story – but ya’ gotta promise to keep it quiet: Ya’ see, I kinda tricked “the boys” down south into throwing me a birthday party…..Remember, I have told you before, I AM very shallow…..
The “whole gang” had got together down south to go see some friend in their show called
She-Haw. Fantastic show, fantastic time, and fanfrickintastic friends. I was bemoaning to Superman Steve the fact that we hardly ever all got together, especially “the boys” – Drew and Ryan.
Side note – Drew and Ryan are very successful businessmen in “the industry” down south, but they have become quite reclusive. Drew just doesn’t like to go out in public anymore.
So Steve and I decided that I would call Ryan and tell him that we wanted to all get together for my birthday and to pick a restaurant that Drew would go to. Of course, Steve and I knew that Drew wouldn’t go, but that maybe, just maybe, Ryan would decide that everyone could come to their place for a drink. Which is what happened. Only Drew elevated “drink event” to “a grand soiree!” Little, and not so little, waiters carrying yummy scrumdillyiscious things to eat. Hot and even hotter cocktail (heh-heh, I said, “cock”)waiters filling glasses with champagne and other alcoholic pleasures. Music in the background. Absolutely the best birthday I’ve had…..to date.
And yes, I do feel guilty about tricking them…..but only a little. SHHHHHH, remember: don’t tell!

yesterday
Kicked my first student out of class today – after he threatened to kick some kid’s ass, and mine too. I told him that I was the last person he wanted to tango with, and sent him marching. His parting remark was, “Well, I wouldn’t want to dance with you anyway.”

That’s just fine Josh—I wouldn’t wanna dance with you either – your sagging pants look like baby diapers.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could’ve said that to him!?!?!?!?

5 songs I know (almost!) all the words to 1)Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Judy Garland. My favorite movie of all time. The song still can make me cry. Many days, I want to fly over the rainbow – ‘cause if birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh why can’t I?
2) Friday I’m in Love by The Cure. I’ve loved this song since it came out. What’s even more hysterical is that my 20 year old daughter stole my Cure CD and love’s them too.
3) Moonshadow by Cat Stevens. Okay, I discovered this song somewhere around early sr high school. I sang this song while I was pregnant and when I delivered Erynn. It also was Erynn’s lullaby. 4) At Seventeen by Janis Ian. This was MY song in high school! 5) Paradise by the Dashboard Light by Meatloaf. “Ain’t no doubt about it we were doubly blessed. Cause we were barely seventeen and we were barely —we’re gonna go all the way tonight, we’re gonna go all the way tonight, tonight! Stop right there!!!
Need I say more?

5 snacks 1) chocolate 2) Jelly beans 3) something else chocolate 4) chips and salsa, and finally, of course 5)something chocolate.

5 things I do with $100,000,000 1) Setup a college scholarship for normal average people that never qualify for grants, loans, or scholarships of other kinds. 2) Get the fat sucked out of my fat spots, cause dammit I am shallow, so I want to look more shallow!!! 3) Buy a cruise around the world (or something) and take all my friends, and Brad Pitt, on the trip of their/his lifetime. 4) Buy a lifetime supply of airline “fly anywhere” tickets so I could fly to see family and friends anytime I wanted, without having to worry about the money! Finally, I think 5) I’d buy the world a coke, ‘cause it’s the real thing.

5 places I’d run away to 1) Anywhere my Mom is, because even though we run away from home in our youth, it’s where we run to as adults. 2) Fiji, because I’ve been there once, and found it really relaxing and fun. 3) Australia, because I’ve always wanted to go there, and maybe do one of those Outback Adventures. 4) Italy – hey! I saw that movie with Diane Lane – I want a villa, dammit! And 5) England – cause they know how to celebrate my birthday right proper, they do!

5 things I’d never wear: 1) plaid pants. I don’t care how “in vogue” they may become, they look like bad golfer pants. 2) Cowboy boots – nope! And hey, I’ve got horses, and I ride (horses, you dirty boys, horses!), but them boots make my feet look 10 miles long. And they make me walk funny. 3) “Teacher themed clothes” You know, those cute clothes with apples, busses, pencils, etc? Nope, nope, nope. Daughter has orders to shoot to kill if she spots me in inappropriate garb. 4) Red lipstick. Wrong shade for me. 5) Blue eyeshadow. Although, I do remember that electric blue eyeshadow from junior high with much fondness…..

5 favorite TV shows: Okay, but this may switch, depending upon my mood. 1) Alias 2) Lost 3) House 4) Medium 5) NCIS possible replacements include: Prisonbreak, Reunion, Survivor, Amazing Race

5 greatest joys 1) my daughter Erynn has grown into a fantastic young women 2) graduating 2nd in my class in college at the ripe age of 42. 3) my family that always loves and supports me. And they think I can do anything! 4) I have my dream job! 5) my friends seem to accept and luv me, even though I am quite shallow.

5 toys 1) Scrabble 2) my computer 3) my riding lawnmower 4) my razor sharp wit 5) My imagination

5 people I’m tagging Okay, this is so not fair – only because I don’t know all the folks that everyone else seems to, and the people I do know have been tagged or are tagging people I was going to tag (thanks kien). Hmmm, can I pretend to tag Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp? Okay, two down, three to go. Aha! Rules Schmules! I'll just tag 'em anyway!! Okay, that leaves Jade ed, Star Sadie and Vert. Tag! You are so it!

Letting Baby Sis Rant

I wouldn't normally do this, and she doesn't know it (yet), but I'm posting an email and letter I got from lil sis, JoJo. A Good Rant:

From Jojo:

This is a very interesting article. I hope you get some back ground info onBush's environmental incompetence, not to mention his lack of compassion forpeople in poverty. The politicians have all but written off the poor, theyhave given lip service to being "compassionate conservatives" and stillmanaged to pass tax cuts to the rich and big businesses. Everyone needs towake up and smell the coffee, neo-conservatives need to be voted out in thenext elections. Elect people that have the common sense and the back bone tohelp all the people of the U.S., by standing up to big bussiness and therich.All levels of our government have failed and in the after-math of Katrina weshould all be more active in our political process. The lack of clearleadership after the hurricane and the lack of funding from the Feds toFEMA, the Corps of Engineers and to the States before the hurricane havecaused this disater before it even happened. Look at the 'timeline' it showsthat people were not thinking of the worst case senerio that just happenedto happen on the Bush admin's watch and catching them with their pants down.Jojo>

"No One Can Say they Didn't See it Coming"
By Sidney Blumenthal
In 2001, FEMA warned that a hurricane striking New Orleans was one of the three most likely disasters in the U.S. But the Bush administration cut New Orleans flood control funding by 44 percent to pay for the Iraq war.

Biblical in its uncontrolled rage and scope, Hurricane Katrina has left millions of Americans to scavenge for food and shelter and hundreds to thousands reportedly dead. With its main levee broken, the evacuated city of New Orleans has become part of the Gulf of Mexico. But the damage wrought by the hurricane may not entirely be the result of an act of nature.

A year ago the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers proposed to study how New Orleans could be protected from a catastrophic hurricane, but the Bush administration ordered that the research not be undertaken. After a flood killed six people in 1995, Congress created the Southeast Louisiana Urban Flood Control Project, in which the Corps of Engineers strengthened and renovated levees and pumping stations. In early 2001, the Federal Emergency Management Agency issued a report stating that a hurricane striking New Orleans was one of the three most likely disasters in the U.S., including a terrorist attack on New York City. But by 2003 the federal funding for the flood control project essentially dried up as it was drained into the Iraq war. In 2004, the Bush administration cut funding requested by the New Orleans district of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers for holding back the waters of Lake Pontchartrain by more than 80 percent. Additional cuts at the beginning of this year (for a total reduction in funding of 44.2 percent since 2001) forced the New Orleans district of the Corps to impose a hiring freeze. The Senate had debated adding funds for fixing New Orleans' levees, but it was too late.

The New Orleans Times-Picayune, which before the hurricanepublished a series on the federal funding problem, and whose presses are nowunderwater, reported online: "No one can say they didn't see it coming ... Now in the wake of one of the worst storms ever, serious questions are being asked about the lack of preparation."

The Bush administration's policy of turning over wetlands to developers almost certainly also contributed to the heightened level of the storm surge. In 1990, a federal task force began restoring lost wetlands surrounding New Orleans. Every two miles of wetland between the Crescent City and the Gulf reduces a surge by half a foot. Bush had promised "no net loss" of wetlands, a policy launched by his father's administration and bolstered by President Clinton. But he reversed his approach in 2003, unleashing the developers. The Army Corps of Engineers and the Environmental Protection Agency then announced they could no longer protect wetlands unless they were somehow related to interstate commerce.

In response to this potential crisis, four leading environmental groups conducted a joint expert study, concluding in 2004 that without wetlands protection New Orleans could be devastated by an ordinary, much less a Category 4 or 5, hurricane. "There's no way to describe how mindless a policy that is when it comes to wetlands protection," said one of the report's authors. The chairman of the White House's Council on Environmental Quality dismissed the study as "highly questionable," and boasted, "Everybody loves what we're doing."

"My administration's climate change policy will be science based," President Bush declared in June 2001. But in 2002, when the Environmental Protection Agency submitted a study on global warming to the United Nations reflecting its expert research, Bush derided it as "a report put out by a bureaucracy," and excised the climate change assessment from the agency's annual report. The next year, when the EPA issued its first comprehensive "Report on the Environment," stating, "Climate change has global consequences for human health and the environment," the White House simply demanded removal of the line and all similar conclusions. At the G-8 meeting in Scotland this year, Bush successfully stymied any common action on global warming. Scientists, meanwhile, have continued to accumulate impressive data on the rising temperature of the oceans, which has produced more severe hurricanes.

In February 2004, 60 of the nation's leading scientists, including20 Nobel laureates, warned in a statement, "Restoring Scientific Integrity in Policymaking": "Successful application of science has played a large part in the policies that have made the United States of America the world's most powerful nation and its citizens increasingly prosperous and healthy... Indeed, this principle has long been adhered to by presidents and administrations of both parties in forming and implementing policies. The administration of George W. Bush has, however, disregarded this principle... The distortion of scientific knowledge for partisan political ends must cease." Bush completely ignored this statement.

In the two weeks preceding the storm in the Gulf, the trumping of science by ideology and expertise by special interests accelerated. The Federal Drug Administration announced that it was postponing sale of the morning-after contraceptive pill, despite overwhelming scientific evidence of its safety and its approval by the FDA's scientific advisory board. The United Nations special envoy for HIV/AIDS in Africa accused the Bush administration of responsibility for a condom shortage in Uganda -- the result of the administration's evangelical Christian agenda of "abstinence." When the chief of the Bureau of Justice Statistics in the Justice Department was ordered by the White House to delete its study that African-Americans and other minorities are subject to racial profiling in police traffic stops and he refused to buckle under, he was forced out of his job. When the Army Corps of Engineers' chief contracting oversight analyst objected to a $7 billion no-bid contract awarded for work in Iraq to Halliburton (the firm at which Vice President Cheney was formerly CEO), she was demoted despite her superior professional ratings. At the National Park Service, a former Cheney aide, a political appointee lacking professional background, drew up a plan to overturn past environmental practices and prohibit any mention of evolution while allowing sale of religious materials through the Park Service.

On the day the levees burst in New Orleans, Bush delivered a speech in Colorado comparing the Iraq war to World War II and himself to Franklin D. Roosevelt: "And he knew that the best way to bring peace and stability to the region was by bringing freedom to Japan." Bush had boarded his very own "Streetcar Named Desire."

Sidney Blumenthal, a former assistant and senior advisor to President Clinton and the author of "The Clinton Wars," is writing a column for Salon and the Guardian of London.

Hmmmmm.....Hey SSM! Maybe you should meet my lil sis.

Are You Down with O.P.P.?????

A recent post on Lelly 's site showed what could possibly be one of my worst nightmare’s come true –
--no, not the one where I actually get the chance to meet Brad Pitt in person and as soon as I shake his hand all my teeth fall out

--I mean my potty nightmares.

Ah yes, I can see you scratching your head, “Potty nightmares? APj has nightmares about toilets?”

No, not about toilets….more about the lack of them.

You see, I have potty issues, primarily:
1. Have trouble going on OPP. No, you nasty Rogue’s, not “that” OPP, for me it means Other People’s Potty’s.
2. Can’t do certain potty things on toilet other than my own.

This of course, has worked its way into my subconscious mind, and into my dream world. I don’t want to tell you how many dream interpretation books I’ve bought trying to figure this potty thing out. Perhaps one of you can help. Here’s some of my

Prevalent Potty Predicaments:

Dream #1
I am cleaning my house. I decided to make it a very thorough cleaning, and I’m taking everything out of the closet.
“Heyyyy….I don’t remember this door here….what the fu--?”
I open this forgotten door in the back of my closet, to find a forgotten bathroom. It is amazing! It has a separate dressing area, a vanity, toilet, sink, tub and separate shower. It is a beautiful room – but it is covered in mold, dirt, and scum because of non-use. I get the cleanser and start scrubbing, but when I turn on the faucet, brown water and spiders come out. But I’m determined to reclaim this room. “How could I have forgotten a room as lovely as this?”

Dream #2
I am refinishing my bathroom. It is a wonderful bathroom, with a flush toilet, sunken tub and roman sink. There are trees planted around the tub, and birds perch above and sing. Of course, it will now be perfect, since I am building four foot fence across the front, so that no one will be able to see me when I sit down for a pee. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you: the bathroom is located in the breezeway next to my house.
YIKES!!!!!!!

Dream #3
I have to pee. I have to pee so bad, but there is no toilet in my house. “I know!” I think to myself, “I’ll go over to _______________ (insert Linda, Edwina, Steve, Donna, Mom, Cindy, BeeBop-a-Loo-Loo) ‘s house and use their Loo.”
On the way to ___________________(insert name from above) ‘s house, I am delayed by looting robbers, crying children, flying aliens (that one was very interesting), Brad Pitt (that one would have been very enjoyable, but please remember, I had to pee), or just plain faulty memory: “where was I going?” “Hmmm, there was somewhere I was heading that was important….damn, I gotta pee….Oh yeah! That’s where I was going!”
I finally arrive at _______________________(okay, you should get this by now: insert name, yada-yada…) ‘s house, only to find a line for the toilet – or a cue for the Loo. So I wait….and I wait. “Finally!” I sigh, after waiting for minutes/hours/days (hey, depends on the dream). I step into the bathroom, to find
1. The door won’t close
2. There is no door
3. There is a man standing in the bathtub watching me (that one was very strange)
4. The person that used the Loo before me has taken the toilet.
NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, so there you have it: APj has potty issues. Please keep this in mind when I come to visit……

I'm Looking for a Hero!!!!

I remember the first time I saw the movie “Superman” with Christopher Reeves. I sat at the drive-in movie and watched Superman leap in the air, one arm raised high, and one leg bent at the knee.
“Silly Superman! That’s not how you do it!” I scolded.
“Whaddya mean, Jayne? Heh-heh, like you’ve ever flown before” retorted Chris.
“Of course I’ve flown!!! In my dreams, dummy! It’s simple: ya’ take three steps forward, one step back, and jump!”
“Sweeeeetttt. Dude, whatever you’re smoking, pass it to me.”
“Chris, are you telling me you’ve never flown in your dreams?”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I grew up thinking that everybody flew in their dreams. I mean, everybody in my family flew in their dreams. I had my clever three-two-jump, as opposed to a one-two step, method. My baby brother, Jason, flew by accident. He said he would dream that he was just walking along, maybe trip or lose his balance, and as he would try to catch himself, he would find himself airborne. He would then “swim” through the air. We had all lost hope that sister Julie would ever fly – but it finally happened when she was in college. Hey, what can I say? She was a late bloomer in most of the things she did in life….hell, she didn’t talk a all until she was almost three!
But my sister Joanne had the best flying stuff. See, Jo could fly in outerspace. Jo flew to other planets rescuing people and fighting evil. Jo was a hero. I remember sitting at the dinner table one evening discussing all of our flying dreams:

Jayne: So Jo, you can fly in outer space?
Jo: Yep.
Jeff: How do you breathe?
Jo: Don’t need to.
John: How come? Do your lungs change or something?
Jo: Don’t know. Just don’t need to breathe, that’s all.
Jayne: And you’re a hero?
Julie: That sounds silly: Jo the hero.
Jo: That’s not my name in my dreams.
John: Ya’ mean you got a different name in your dreams?
Jo: Yep.
Jayne: Well, what is it?
Jo. Fighter JoJo, Intergalactic Space Warrior.

I kid you not – this was sometime around the early/mid 70’s, and my kidsister is known to other galaxies as an Intergalactic Space Warrior. Fighter Jojo, no less. I was jealous. I wanted a hero name. I still want a hero name! I mean, Airplane Jayne is a cool nickname – the coolest! But a hero name…..

And so today – EUREKA! The Internet Gods smiled upon me – and led me to the
Super Action Hero Name Generator. So, in my next action hero novel that I will write, I shall be known as either Flame Gilder or Wind Pirate

WHO ARE YOU?

Ta-Dah!!

Okay, sweetie darlings.....I went to the Doctor (the nice, but not so cute one) this morning. He told me that my lump was just-a-lump-and-not-the-"C"-thing. So woo-hoo!

And he told me he could tell by looking down my throat that I had been a very good....and very quiet girl.....

Please stop laughing....it's still not funny!

And he told me that I could start talking a little bit. But I fear that may be like an alcoholic having a little glass of wine. But I am trying to not talk too much......

My love and thanks to ya'll (even those of you who relished telling me, "shaddup!") for all the good thoughts, vibes and prayers.

Driving through Life

"Most of the conflicts in the world have been perpetuated on the delusion that God needs help."
Lecram made the above statement in a recent post, and posed the following question:
How would I craft that?

Well, I would set the scene in a car! It is, after all, where we American's spend most of our time. Here's how the dialogue would go:

“Ya know, it’s faster if you take the freeway.”

“Sometimes fast isn’t the only factor. Sometimes, my son—“

“Hey! You’re driving on the shoulder! What’s wrong—Wow! Did ya’ see that car cross the middle line?! Geez we could’ve been hurt. So,dude, whatd’ya’ say yer name was?

“ My name? Son, have you forgotten my name so soon? My name is—“

“Hey! Whatza matter wit’ ya’ now! Quit driving in the middle of the ro--. Holy shit! I didn’t see that car stalled on the side of the road. Sorry….what were we talking about? (pause) Oh yeah! Dude! I ‘preciate the ride and all, but how far are ya’ going?”

“Son, I can take you as far as you are going. All I ask is that you let me drive.”

“That’s cool, man. I’ll let ya’ drive. I ‘m a cool passenger, dude--err–sorry, what’s your name, again?”

“Son – my name is—“

“Dude! Why’re ya’ stopping? We’re on the freeway! Ya need to move! (pause) Dude! (pause) Man!”

“Son….you must trust me—“

“Dude, I ain’t yer son, and why should I trus--. Sonofabitch! Didya see that! Holyshit! That truck just jackknifed in front of us! Dude, you must have good eyes to have seen that coming. Sorry I yelled at you ‘bout stopping, dude. –Whatdya say your name is?”

What if....?

A recent post by Lecram asked for that one moment you would want to remain in for all eternity. I pondered that for days: settling on one moment Thursday, only to discard and replace it with another on Friday, and then onto a different one on Saturday. And this is supposed to be a good thing? To last for eternity? Geez, almost seems like Hell to have to select only one.
So of course, since my (current) philosophy is “rules, schmules, we don’t need no stinking rules!” I decided, “What the heck. How about writing about a moment in your life that only in hindsight, do you realize was a crossroads?” You know, those seemingly (at the time) inconsequential moments that you look back on and say, “Hey! What if I had done ‘x’ instead of ‘y’?” What if I had stayed in Nebraska? What if I didn’t start skydiving? What if? One of my favorite whatifs, is Dominic.
Ah…..Dominic. Dom was Italian, and spoke little English. He came out to the drop zone one Saturday morning with (I think) his cousin. He wanted to, “how-a you say? I-a, wan to-a shjump from plane, yes?”
Geez, one look at his bod, and I just wanted to bounce on his abs….seriously.
But what was I thinking? I was “in a relationship” with Mike. I had to stop looking at those abs….those eyes…..dear lord those thighs….. And yet, there stood Dom in front of me, chest and leg straps undone.
“AirplaneShjayne. You-a help me, yes?”
Stop staring Shjay—jayne! Think about Mike! Your relationship! What relationship? More like a joke! Oh yeah, I was in a relationship. I had stopped seeing anyone else. I had decided that Mike was “the one.” Only one problem left with this relationship: I was the only one in it! Mike was still sowing wild oats.
But back to Dom….ahhh, Dom….with dangling leg straps.
I couldn’t let him jump from a plane looking like that now, could I? So I tightened up those leg straps, hooked that chest strap, (went to the store about 6 times in a row), and helped him put his helmet on.
“Follow me, Dom.”
And follow me he did – for the rest of the weekend! I had him eating dirt while jumping off the platform doing practice landings, and he fed me chocolate. He told me of his home in Italy, and I told him emergency procedures. I showed him how to pack a parachute, and he showed me his 6-pack abs. Before I knew it, it was Sunday afternoon, and time for him to shum –err - jump.
“Shjayne…”
“Sorry, Dom? Did you say something?”
“Shjayne….I’m a, how you say? Leetle nervous. Ah, maybe you can-a stand where I land, no?”
So, I stood where he would land. And land he did. Lordy, lordy with those beautiful arms (not to mention abs and thighs) he hugged me and whispered, “Shjayne. I would-a like to see you, yes? Maybe dinner, say, tomorrow in town, no? Here is-a where I am staying. Please say you’ll come?”
So fast forward to the next day. I went through the day on auto-pilot – just waiting for the five-o’clock whistle to blow, so I could too! Damn the torpedoes, and relationship be damned! I was tired of the double standard! I was going to eat Italian!! I threw open the door, stepped into the parking lot, strode confidently towards my car, gave a defiant tilt of my chin to Mike –
“Err -- Mike!?! What are you doing here?”
“Hey sweetheart. I—ahh—I thought you’d like to go to dinner. With me.”
Dinner with Mike?
Dinner with Dom?
Stay the course, or jump ship?
I could almost hear the Clash singing: “Come on and let me know: Should I stay or should I go?”
Argh, no time for the indecision that was bugging me. I had to choose.

And I chose Mike.

So, in hindsight, there was one major crossroad in my life: I chose to stay with Mike. Would I go back and take that other branch, knowing what I do now?

Probably not…..

But oh Lordy, lordy, do I remember those abs….and eyes…..and mercy me, those thighs…

I'm back in the saddle again....

okay, okay
- yes I do have ponies...
no it's not that kind of saddle....
yes I do know that the phrase means something else entirely and
no...it's not that kind of saddle either.....

what a sad pathetic QUIET life I lead.....

but okay! enough of the pity party. Anyone up for a game of charades? The four horses, two kitties and one bird have grown tired of playing, especially since they always guess wrong. I mean, hello!?!?!? The bird keeps guessing, "Whoo??Whoo?" And I keep giving the sign for "book! book!" Guess that's what ya' get for playing with animals.....

surgery went well, pain is tolerable - tylenol working fine.
Nurses were very nice at surgery center. Waited for an hour (!!!) in pre-op. Don't know what the delay was -- but used it to my advantage. Yes....I TALKED!!!! Hey, from ME, whaddya expect? Remember: I was never invited to the silent retreats......

Soooo...wheeled into surgery at 12:45, woke up at 1:25, went home to Donna's at 1:50. Don't like to stay too long at hospitals, because of previous horror stories. Ate jello cups and pudding -- Made me think of Bill Cosby commercials: Pudding! LIFE IS GOOD!
Came home from Donna's this evening -- I was ready for my own bed and TV. Ahhh, the comforts of home.
Thanks to all that have emailed me -- mostly filled with advice to shuddup.......

I'M TRYING!!!!
--and yes, Lecram -- I may be blogging wildly....or wildly blogging.....or perhaps I'll take a chance and just be wildly......silent.

Last dance....

As we speak, I am having a Donna Summer moment. I've dug "Last Dance" out of the cobwebs, playing it on my CD player, and singing --in my best Kathleen Turner voice --
"--Last dance, last dance to-night...."


Tomorrow, I'll be lipsyncing "Sound of Silence"

If any of you want to write me --
Let's rephrase that --
You can email me at: airplanejayne1@yahoo.com

Love and kisses....and all the smushy stuff,
APj

Gone to the Dogs!

Oh my gosh! It is fascinating the information about one's self that one can learn on the Internet! No, I'm not talking about Googling one's self - although that is very entertaining.
Via a test site found courtesy of Jade ed Gypsy, I learned that my bodacious ta-ta's were named Tweedledee and Tweedledum. On another occasion, Lecram helped me learn my true I.Q., and I then discovered that, yes, I truly was Peter Pan.
I have now discovered that I am a bitch. A pretty cool one too! No, not that kind of bitch -- although I always thought it was an acronym for Boys I'm Taking Charge Here
--not that kind of bitch -- the four-legged dog kind.

Dog Name
I am an English Cocker Spaniel

Origins
....Originally from Spain. Cockers got their name for their expertise in flushing woodcock and other small game while hunting.

Personality
The English Cocker Spaniel is a hardy, energetic and affectionate dog. Excellent with kids; gentle and playful, but does not tolerate teasing well. It is sociable with strangers, a moderate barker, and obeys respectfully the orders it is given. Generally an outgoing breed,but some individuals can be reserved. Cockers should be trained very gently, but firmly, as they are sensitive but also rather independent.

So....what kind of dog are you?

(after you click on the above link, click on the "which dog are you" question on the bottom right side)

Adventures of Buck, part 4

Previous post
Oh! What’s happening? I feel that hand, that scary-hairy squirrel of a hand, grabbing me out of the dark. I’m being lifted, back into the light. Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank God, I’m free at last! And thank God I’m out of that pocket! Not only did it smell like elderberries – I kept getting a strange desire: a desire to be in a tree….and eat nuts……and run across streets dodging cars……and a desire to runaway with some goddess named Sandra Bullock……

But what’s this? I can hardly hear, because the music is so loud.
Bowchicabowbow. Bump, bump, bowchicabowbow.

I’m still in his hands, and yet I’m moving….swaying…..dancing….

bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow.

Whoa! Hello ladies!!!! What are those? I’m being lifted, almost transported towards two amazing globes. Shaking globes. That strange squirrel man is calling out “Bambi and Tweedledum! Hatcher and Bullock!”

Foolish idiot squirrel! He’ll ruin it for both of us. The amazing globes are turning to leave. I must stop them! I try to speak--I try to say, “Hello Ladies!” But I’m only a buck!! I’ve got no lips…no mouth. How can I speak to them? How can I tell them I love them?
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow

Ahhhh, yes….I’ll dance for the goddesses. So I begin to shake. I shake my groove thing. I become a rumpshaker of a bill.

Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow

The amazing globes turn back. They watch my dance. Oh, be still my heart, I think they want me! They are moving towards me….

And still I’m dancing…bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow……

and each shake of his wrist leads me closer to Utopia. Ah yes! The road to Utopia!
And still I’m dancing – bowchicabowbow,bowchicabowbow……
The squirrel man and I are in perfect rhythm – what a team! And as the music gently slows and then dies, the squirrel man tucks me gently between the comforting globes.

And for the second time today, I smell elderberries, and I weep; for this strange scary squirrel of a man has brought me to Nirvana.

Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank the Scary Squirrel Man, I am free at last!

Throat drama, part deux

Okay, so here's the latest adventures of "Chords de Vocalle de AirplaneJayne."

Friday found Jayne in the office of a very nice (but very married...darn!) Doctor F. Doctor F explained that he was going to rest an instrument called a videostrobe on my tongue. This instrument had a little camera that would peek over my tongue, and shoot pictures of my vocal chords. This entire event should take no longer than 15 seconds -- as long as I didn't gag......

"Oh Great!' I thought. "As long as I don't gag? How can I tell this very handsome (but very married...) doc that just thinking about gagging makes me gag?"
"Okay, Doc." I respond jovially, "I'll do my best."
So without much ado—

--great play at Woodward Park, by the way—

--Again, without further ado, cute Doctor F inserts his instrument into my mouth, and yes-- I gag.
“Sorry,” says the handsome (but married) Doctor F “My fault.”

Fantastic! Finally a man who’ll admit that it’s his fault when I gag!!!!
But (again), darn! He’s already married!

So, with much grace and at a slower pace, Doctor F. rests the instrument on my tongue, and tells me to say the letter “E” without stopping--

--Hey, I ain’t gagging, so if the letter “E” makes him happy, fine with me.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”

About 8 seconds later (which is all that’s necessary for a bull ride, thank you very much), cute (but married) Doc F is done. I think I need to repeat that: In 8 seconds. Doc F is done. 8 seconds. Done.
“Well done Jayne. Let’s take a look at the movie.”
So I look at the screen, and voila! My chords! In all their glory!

But ewww! What is that big thing on the side?

Doc F points out that lump runs from the bottom to the middle of my left chord. He feels that surgery is necessary, but tells me that he and Doc W (nice, but not as cute) will consult before my meeting on Monday.

Monday morning arrived, even though I made every attempt to stop it. I found myself (again) at the Doctor's office.
“Well, Jayne” says Doctor W, “This is not a normal nodule--”
Hello!?!? Normal? Jayne? This guy shoulda figured out that there’s nothing NORMAL about ME by now….
“--But it doesn’t look cancerous. I’d be flabbergasted if it was cancerous. Now, I have been flabbergasted before – but not very often.”

So – to conclude: Totally un-normal Jayne has an un-normal nodule on her left vocal chord. Cute (but married) Doc. F apologized for making Jayne gag, but took pictures anyway. Nice (but not cute) Doc. W wants to have Jayne over (to hospital) for sleepover (during the day) next week to remove flabber from chord.

The Gast is going to be that Jayne can not talk for 10 days after surgery.

Please stop laughing…..that’s not funny…..really – stop laughing!!! This is serious!!!

Okay, after you have gotten yourself under control, please help me figure out how to get us all set up on Yahoo IM so that I can talk –err I mean type at you during my recovery.

Drama, dahling, drama

I know that many of you think I like to have drama in my life, so that it must remain "all about me." Let me start off by stating the obvious:

It IS all about Me......always.......Just accept that and move on!

Most of you don’t know this, but I went to the Doctor last week. I lost my voice around the end of April/beginning of May. I thought I was talking too much (Jayne? Talk too much? Go figure!) and had probably damaged my vocal chords. I figured it would be better when school got out. It didn't (get better), so I went (to the doctor).
Okay, as you know, most doctors thrive on finding new ways to freak you out. Here is one of their new ways: Doc stuck a tube up my nose. Hmmm, picture one of those cans of compressed air that you use to clean your computer keyboard...with a tube about twice that size. Doc squirted nasty bitter tasting stuff up my nose and instructed me to swallow said nasty bitter stuff.

Just as an aside: Why would a doctor make stuff that has to go down your throat taste bad? If YOU were that doctor, wouldn’t YOU try to make it taste better!?!?!?

But back to my story: At this point, I was a good patient and swallowed the nasty/narpy tasting stuff. Throat proceeded to get very numb; so numb in fact that it became quite difficult to swallow my own saliva. Saliva which was being mass-produced, probably because saliva glands knew I couldn't swallow and they thought it would be fun!
So now, Doc returns into room, with something that looks like a miniature vacuum attachment....or maybe some high-tech computer accessory: Long skinny (about half the width of a pen), sectional, firm-but-bendy cable-y thing with a light on the end.
Jayne's eyes get big as she realizes that Doctor intends to send that snake down her throat.....

Jayne's blood pressure increases when Doc informs her that he will be going down her throat -- VIA HER NOSE!

Yes and still, Jayne remains the perfect patient.....

Doc snakes tube down left nostril causing a feeling similar to someone dragging a finger along a sunburn: very uncomfortable, but not painful enough for you to haul off and hit them.

Doc snakes tube down right nostril -- and still, Jayne behaving and not kicking or hitting anyone....
"Hmmmm, yes," says Doc (either to me or my tonsils -- oh yeah! I don't have those anymore, so I guess he was talking to me), " Yes. You have a lump on your left vocal chord. It looks benign. But I do want you to come in for specialized test. A videoscope. We'll set that up for you."
Okay, let's review the words I heard:
lump. vocal chord. benign. specialized test.

As usual, Jayne plays research/doctor upon arriving home. According to what I have learned, most lumps on vocal chords are not cancerous. And the Doctor did use the word "benign" which is good. Most Doctors are pretty non-committal in diagnosis until they have test-data, so I don't think he'd use that word unless it looked pretty good. But it is a lump (not a polyp or nodule), and I don't want it there.....even though I'm getting told I sound like Lauren Bacall (older audience) or Kathleen Turner (a bit younger audience).
So, videoscope (or videostrobe?) is set for 7/29 at 9:00 in the morning. Results consultation witll be on 8/1 at 9:00 in the morning. Yes, I am nervous, but I am fine. I'm concentrating on the words and research of the doctors and myself, the kind words and prayers of my family and friends, and trusting that it'll all be fine. I just figure it's my turn (again) for some surgery. I don't want you worrying about me. You know I do this Doctor thing okay. But please keep me in your prayers. Never, ever, ever underestimate their power.
I promise to let you all know what's going on and soon as I know what's going on.

Love,
the Queen of the Spotlight,
Jayne

Jonah and Jayne

Once upon a time, there was a man named Jonah. One day, God told him to go to Nineveh. Jonah didn’t want to go to the evil, debauched city of Nineveh, so he exercised his God-given right of free will: Jonah got on a boat and sailed in the opposite direction of Nineveh. But God had a different plan; a plan in which Jonah went to Nineveh. So God sent a terrible storm to harass the boat, providing the very first example of the phrase, “Don’t mess with Mother Nature.” The sailors grew terrified: what should they do?
Throw Jonah overboard? Row to shore? Either way could anger Jonah’s Lord.
Throw? Row? Throw? Row?
Jonah finally provided the answer, and told them to throw him overboard…into the raging sea...unto certain death. However, let us remember, it was God’s plan, not Jonah’s plan; so the sailors sent Jonah into the raging sea…and God sent Jonah into the mouth of a great fish.
Talk about a captive audience! Jonah….in the whale….in the sea! Upon reflection of the events that led up to this address change, Jonah acquiesces, repents, and tells God, “Okay, you win. You sent me to the depths to die, but you brought my life up from the pits. What I have vowed, I will make good.”
And then God’s great fish, very unceremoniously, vomits Jonah onto dry land, and on his way to Nineveh.
Which is where he should have been going in the first place!
There’s more to this story, but this is the part that I’ve always liked. Why? Because Jonah not only thinks he can do anything he wants to do, he exercises his “free will” in doing so: he defies God, not only by not going to Nineveh, but by sailing 180degrees in the opposite direction! While Jonah’s busy doing “his own thing” instead of “God’s Thing,” look at the havoc wreaked around him: damage caused not by him, but because of his defiance. Only when Jonah’s forced to see the power of God, does he bow to God’s will. Only when his environment is God-provided and controlled does Jonah reflect upon whom he is challenging, and concede. In the end, in spite of his free will, Jonah accepts God’s will, and heads for Nineveh.

Score: God Won
Jonah Lost (days)

Personally, I connect with Jonah. At various times in my life (almost regular intervals), I have found myself in the midst of the raging seas, all because I wasn’t going the direction that I knew God wanted me to go. And so, with an oft times heavy hand (but thankfully, no great fish), my course was corrected. I would be steered in the right direction, until suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, I’d find myself again on that raging sea, once again asking myself:

“Am I ignoring my Nineveh? Is there something or somewhere else I’m to do or be?”

Taking Inventory

Terrorists struck London on 7/7, and although it was halfway around the globe, it affected me as emotionally as 9/11 New York, Pennsylvania, and D.C. did. I find myself, once again, overwhelmed with emotions: anger, fear, sadness, helplessness, confusion, and hopelessness. But tonight I forced myself to ”take stock” of all the good things and blessings in my life.
Here’s my inventory:

1. I am grateful that my friends across the pond are all okay. And that some are so much more than acceptable…
2. I love my new Rogue friends who have taken me in….even though I sometimes wanna poke the wild animals.
3. My daughter, Erynn ROCKS! Somehow, still not quite sure how, I did that absolutely perfectly!
4. I am in a better place, physically, emotionally, mentally, than I was three years ago.
5. Cream cheese frosting on vanilla wafers is perfect comfort food. Forgettabout the calories.
6. Aspiring is inspiring.
7. I am lucky in the fact that I get paid to do something I am good at AND that I love to do.
8. I am proud to be an American, but I am not proud of some Americans
9. The “Party Elements” will always be elemental to my survivial.
10. Chocolate really does make everything better.

How ‘bout you?

*JUST FOR LELLY!

"Going to the store"
Poor Lelly, she must think that all we do on this side of the pond is "go to the store." I mean, Jade and I discuss our favorite movies, and Jade's gotta go to the store.

A long long l-o-n-g story short -- (and edited).....

"Going to the store" came out of cyberque one:
an intelligent discussion, begun, I believe, by Jag, speculated on a future cashless society. Different modes of "cashless" were explored, moving from paying via debit cards, to body implants, to DNA...

But how to get DNA?

This is where discussion when straight to the gutter...and all the men volunteered to do the shopping forever!

Thus, when a dazed look comes over their face, they have, in essence, "gone to the store."

SSM, does that about sum (so to speak) it up?

Quit Touching Me!

Have ya’ seen that commercial? -- The one where the older brother is (almost) touching the sister’s arm, and she keeps saying, “Quit touching me.”? How did SunnyDelight find out about my older brother?!?! His given name was Jeff. Currently, he is known as Pastor Jeff. But back then….well, I thought of him as SATAN(and the echo goes, “satan,satan,sata--)
“Oh surely, you jest,” you protest.
No, I do not jest….and don’t call me Shirley.
Oh, you want proof? Ha! Where to begin? Where to begin?

Exhibit A
Perhaps we should start with something where you see the power and superiority of Jeff's brain. What a chess player: start at checkmate and work backwards...and remember all the moves necessary! Here's a play-by-play, ala Memento style:

Step G: Jayne protests that, "I hit him because he was picking on me! I told him to stop!"
Step F: Jeff proclaims it was self defense, because, "Jayne hit me first!"
Step E: Mom calls Jeff into the kitchen to get his side of the story.
Step D: Jayne runs crying to Mom, "Mom! Jeff hit me!"
Step C: Jeff hits Jayne in the arm.
Step B: Jayne slaps Jeffs hand away, and gripes, "Cut it out! Leave me alone! Quit picking on me!"
Step A: Jeff pokes/picks at air around sister Jayne, while repeatedly uttering, "Pick, pick, pick, pick--"

Step H: Jeff announces with much innocence, "I never touched her."
Which was true! How many hours did that take to work out!?!?!? Sheer genius! But used for evil purposes....

Exhibit B
It was a dark, cold night. Mom and Dad had gone out – one of those rare occasions – and left Sata—Jeff in charge. (Why they left him in charge, when John was older, we could never figure out.) JoJo and I were awake in bed and whispering to each other. I glanced around, making the bogeyman visual safety check of the room, and realized that the closet door was slightly open. This would never do! Who knows what could be hiding in the closet? There could be a monst--
“JoJo! The closet door is open! Go close it.”
Being the obedient little sister, she leapt from bed, pushed the door shut, and flew back to bed. Mission accomplished. The whispered conversation continued, but when I made the next bogeyman visual safety check—
“Jo! You didn’t close the door good! It’s open again! Go close it!””No way! You close it this time!”
So, taking a deep breath, I jumped from bed, pushed the door closed (hard), and leapt back into bed. Again, mission accomplished – but I was wary. I kept glancing back to the door during our conversation. Waiting for the slightest movement, or hint of move—
“JoJo!” I whispered/warned, “The door is open, again.”
“Jaynie” she whimpered, “I’m scared.”
“Jo, don’t cry. Keep talking, pretend like you don’t notice. Maybe I can sneak—“
--and the door continued to open – steady, not fast, but fast enough that you could see it. And fast enough that I knew there was no way I could get to the door fast enough.
“Jaynie, I’m scared! What are we gonna do?”
I started to answer, but then the monster came out of the closet. It was so tall, it had to bend it’s head to get under the door. It had a hat on, so we couldn’t see it’s face, and a long coat. It was moaning, coming towards us, with its’ arms reaching towards us –
JoJo and I scampered to the farthest corner of the bed, and still it came forward. We screamed…we prayed….to no avail. The monster was at the foot of the bed. It had something in it’s hand… was reaching towards it’s head…. Sheer terror took over, and Jo and I clutched each other screaming for someone to save us—And the monster snatched it’s hat off, and turned on the flashlight in it’s hand
“Boo!” screamed Jeff.
The beam of light revealed that Jeff was riding on John’s shoulders, a long coat draped over the two of them.

Yes, I know, funny, eh? ...UNLESS IT’S YOU COWERING IN THE CORNER!!!

Exhibit C
I had just finished reading the book, The Exorcist. As I was only in 8th grade, I had to “sneak” read it, because my Mom thought it was too scary for me to read. (Note to Mom: you were right – the book still scares the shi** out of me!). My friend Emily C was spending the night (side note: it is a wonder that any of my friends ever spent a second night at my house..). We were discussing the book when suddenly the sofa bed…well it kinda jumped up in the air a bit.
“Emily! Stop it!”
“Jayne, I didn’t do anything”
“Oh…well, maybe we put too much weight on part of the bed or something.”
So, we went back to our conversation, and as it drifted towards the Devil (the real one, not Jeff!), the bed jumped again – but higher!
“Jayne! That’s not funny! You’re scaring me!”
“Emily! I swear I didn’t do a thi—“
And at this point the bed began to….well to pitch and bounce, for lack of a better description.
And so yes, I found myself, once again screaming….and praying in bed, clinging frantically to my friend as the sofa bed went satanically insane.
And then we heard laughter – but human laughter.
And out from under the sofa bed came….yes you guessed it – Sata—I mean, Brother Jeff.

Oh, I could go on and on – about the time he wanted to see how long I could hold my breath, so he held my head under water….or the time he closed the bedroom door to make JoJo and me cry because we were afraid of the dark……or the time –

But that’s not the point, is it? It’s that commercial – that crazy commercial makes me remember my brother Jeff….and I smile. I smile because as cruel and mean as his jokes were, in hindsight they are hysterical. I think it’s even more hysterical that he has an entire congregation that is impressed with his piety…his goodness…..his sincerity.
Perhaps one day, I may get brave enough to don that bear skin rug….and make an entrance into his church…..possibly during a midnight mass.

Hmmm….what kind of bears do they have in New Orleans?

Entitled: HOW YOU GET A NICKNAME....or -- BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY, IT MAY COME BACK TO BITE YA!

WARNING: Nicknames have a way of just...happening. As you know, I love nicknames, and usually try to find one for everyone. Sometimes the name comes quickly, sometimes they come slowly....but....they always come. Ewww, you nasty dirty mind. Out of the gutter! Geez, Jade was right! To the story!

So there I was, bright red and sure that I’d not heard what I thought I’d just heard.
And the Viking Princess, or VP, (aka Kajsa) is screaming, “What did he just say?!?!?”
And Superman Steve….well, Steve’s jaw has dropped, he is blushing (and hey, I’ve known the guy for ten years, and never seen him blush), and he’s frantically reaching for the answering machine—
“Did your little brother just say what I think he said?”
“Steve,” ordered Kajsa, “Rewind that tape! Oh my go—“
So, as the tape rewinds, let me fill you in:
I had just arrived in SF for one of Steve’s shows. Steve and I were catching up on all the latest Party Element and Rogue gossip, when the VP (who doesn’t gossip nearly as much as Steve and I, but we love her anyway) interrupts--
“Oh, Steve! Your brother Dave called while I was on the phone. I let it go to voice mail.”
Now, my friends, - let me interject some back story here (again), as that voice mail tape is rewinding: Dave is Steve’s little brother. Like Steve, Dave was also bitten by the comedy bug: he is a standup comedian in Philadelphia. Very quick, very witty. I met him once – five years ago when Steve did his very first standup show. Funny guy….nice guy--or so I thought, until
that tape started playing.
“Hiya Steve! Hiya Kajsa! Dave here. Yea, went to see Joe Jackson last night. Good show! I’m on my way – gonna do a show at ______________. Hey tell Airplane Jayne I said, “Hi –“

Steve is beaming. You can almost hear his thoughts, “What a good kid brother. He remembered APj was coming up this weekend. He’s saying, ‘Hi’ to my friend”

“How sweet,” I thought, “What a nice kid brother—“

And the tape continued “Heh-heh , yea – tell Airplane Jayne ‘Hi!’ – I wouldn’t mind – ya know – a ten cent ride—“

This is where we came in on this story – Me blushing (which takes a lot, mind you), Kajsa squealing, and Superman Steve gob-smacked……
Multiple playings of the tape had the three of us rolling on the floor and me laughing so hard I was in tears.

Jayne: But Steve, what exactly is a “Ten cent ride?”
Steve: I don’t know. But I say, let’s call him and find out. (dialing phone on speaker.)
Ring-ring! Ring-ring!
Dave: Hey big bro!
Steve: Hey Dave. Whatcha doing?
Dave: I’m going on in 20 minutes! Whazzup?
Steve: Well, we’re kind of confused. Just exactly what is a “ten-cent-ride?”
Dave: (wicked/nasty laugh) Heh-heh, well –
Jayne: (not wanting to hear, especially after “heh-heh) Yes, Dave dahling, just exactly what are you expecting to get for ten cents?
Dave: (stammering) Ohh! Airplane Jayne! Ohh! Ahhh, probably ahh, not much of anything now, huh?

Needless to say, we called Dave at least ten (ha-ha) times over the weekend – harassing him relentlessly. Poor child….but I don’t feel sorry for him – not at all! After all, he brought it upon himself.

But on the bright side, Dave did get what he truly has been wanting for five long years…..no, not that, you dirty minded Rogues! He finally got a nickname! He is no longer known as “Dave,” Steve’s kid brother…..He is now known, affectionately, as:

Ten-Cent.

I really CAN fly!

Okay, okay, I know that YOU know that I know that I really can fly...but now I have proof! Verification! And, keeping in line with NCLB and the current beliefs and practices of our education institutions, my proof and verification is in the form of a test, no less:

You scored as Peter Pan.
Your alter ego is Peter Pan. You are a child at heart. Anything you believe is possible, and you never want to grow up.
Peter Pan 94%
Ariel 75%
Donald Duck 75%
Goofy 75%
Sleeping Beauty 69%
Cinderella 69%
Cruella De Ville 63%
The Beast 63%
Pinocchio 44%
Snow White 38%

So, which Disney character is your alter ego? Am I hanging out with a bunch of Goofy's, or Beasts? Take the quiz, and post your ego (ha, ha, now that is something you all have) as a comment.

That's Amazing!

Gosh, I do remember some dumb TV show that used that as a catch phrase: "That's Amazing!" Usually, it wasn't anything so amazing....it usually was something that was just kinda stupid. But yesterday, I participated it something that was really amazing. No, really, it was amazing. I auditioned for "The Amazing Race."
Go on, giggle, laught, snort, whatever. Get it out of your system. It's okay, I don't mind! I admit it: I loved that show. Say what you will about all the reality TV drivel, but that show sucked me in. I found myself tuning in weekly to cheer on Meredith and his wife, and to boo at Rob and Amber. Cheryl, one of the teachers I work, and I would sit and strategize what WE would do in their places: "That would be so fun....what if......"
So of course, when we saw the ad on TV that there would be open auditions....we bit. Filled out the 10 page application (ugh), submitted pictures (double ugh), and stood in line for an hour.
The audition consisted of a 3 minute video (egads, those are worse than pictures: triple ugh?) of why we thought we should be on the show.
So, all my bloggy friends, on this side of the pond and t'other: be prepared! If we're chosen, I'll expect a list of your family/friends from around the globe that I can call for help when we are trekking thru their/your part of the world.
"Hello?"
"Hi. You don't know me, but my name is Airplane Jayne, I'm a friend of --"
"Oh yes! APj! ____________(insert appropriate name) told me you might call"
"Oh good. Well, you see, we've lost all our money, because we were too slow, and got to the checkpoint last. Could you loan me some--Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"

best damn or dumb joke ya' got

okay - I'm feeling a bit silly, so sue me. But I'm feeling like this is a pretty funny bunch, so I want ya' to post your favorite dumb, silly, stupid, whatever joke as a comment. This has been my favorite joke for over 30 years......swear:
Bob, the accountant, decides to give it all up, move to the country, and become a farmer. He decides that to be a farmer, ya' need three things: a chicken, a rooster, and a donkey. So Bob sells all his worldly possessions, buys a farm, and heads to the livestock yard one fine Saturday morning. He approaches a woman in front of a stall full of chickens.
"Pardon me," he inquires politely, " but I would like to purchase a chicken"
"Yessir. You's from town, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Is that a problem?"
"No's, but round these here parts, we's don't calls em chickens. We's calls em pullits. You's wanna buy a pullit, right?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'd like to purch--err, that is, I'd like to buy a pullit."
So the woman sells him a pullit, and directs him towards a stall across the way, full of roosters.
"Goodday, sir. I'd like to buy a rooster."
"Howdy son. You's from town, right?"
"Yes, sir, is that a problem?"
"No, son. But round these here parts, we's don' calls em roosters...we's calls em cocks."
"Oh, thank you sir. Yes, sir, I'd like to buy me a cock then."
And so the old man sells him a fine cock, and sends him to the stall next door, containing one donkey.
"Sir, is that donkey for sale?"
"Sonny, this here is an ass! We's don't calls em donkeys, we's calls em asses. And this here ass is the last ass left in da whole market. Ya wan him?"
"Oh, yes sir! Thank you sir!"
And so Bob now had all the animals he needed. The old man helped Bob up onto the ass, and exclaimed, "Oh! Ah almost fergot ta tell ya: Sometimes dis here ass can be kinda stubborn. If he stops, just give him a slap on his rear. He'll start moving. Have a good day!" And with a parting slap, Bob was on his way.
Bob was doing fine for a few miles, when suddenly his mount stopped. He gave him a nudge with his heel, to no avail. He tried to give him a slap on the rear, but his hands were full. He was about to slide off the asses back, when he spied a young woman approaching.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? I was wondering if you could help me? Would you mind....
could you hold my cock...
and pullit...
while I slap my ass?"

Salud or Salute?

"Major" Airplanejayne. Okay, Lecram has started putting pics on these blogs, so here's one. Actually, if ya' close one eye and back up, it ain't too bad!

Waters don't part..

A recent conversation with my friend contained an exchange in which I was encouraging him to trust the journey he was on, and his response that he did, and that he also believed that things worked out how they were supposed to work out.
Most of you have read about my fall from the sky, and how it affected my life, faith and relationships. I think many times things happen in our lives that only truly in hindsight are we allowed to see The Hand involved.
I had always wanted to teach. My skydiving accident came during College, Part One. As it became impossible to work and go to school fulltime, I changed directions, and began working with computers and accounting. After working 18 years as an accountant/controller (yes, I know, totally does not fit wit my personality), I decided to go back to school (“College, Part Two”), finish my degree and get my teaching credential. “The waters don’t part until your foot gets wet. Keep walking, and the waters will keep parting,” was the advice from my spiritual advisor.
Two months into the beginning of the journey, the company I had worked at for 18 years started to “belly up.” The owners asked me if I would stay through the end, which would probably be 6 months. Somehow that six months expanded to the year that it took for me to finish my bachelor’s degree. Waters still parting….
So, I had my bachelor’s degree, but no teaching credential, and no job. Again, no problem. Two small construction companies asked me to come in monthly to prepare their financial statements and check their books. A friend who owned an appliance repair business asked me to computerize her accounting system. After taking a test required by the State of California, I was now qualified to work as a substitute teacher. It wasn’t as much money as I was used to making, but it was somehow enough. Waters still parting….
I would be starting my final student teaching, which basically meant that I would be working as a teacher for three months, fulltime, FOR FREE! As if that weren’t enough pressure, my partner and husband of 20 years chose this moment to leave our marriage. His parting advice was, “Just go back to accounting. You’re a great accountant. You don’t have to be a teacher!”
So, there Erynn and I were: no job, no money/no financial support, no husband/father. Looking ahead, all I saw was a huge wave of water, towering over me. “Perhaps I should just turn around and go back,” I announced to the wall of water I suddenly realized was towering over me.
“Keep walking, and the waters will part,” came the response, as quiet as a whisper (yes, Kien, as quiet as an angel’s whisper.)
And so walk, I did. My baby sister financed my divorce and my parents supplemented my income. “Income” was earned by working afternoons, evenings and weekends doing accounting work for anyone I could find. Waters kept parting……
So I kept walking. Finished my teaching credential, picked up two additional credentials, got my dream job teaching, kept the house, putting daughter through college, and getting on with my life.
Only now as I reflect over my recent journey do I see how daunting the task, and how high that wall of water, was. All the time I was walking, my focus was in front of me and I merely had to concentrate on moving forward; not stopping, not looking back. I had faith that I would be able to take another step BECAUSE I had been able to take a step.
And so, just let me pass on the words from my spiritual advisor -- and that were whispered to me as encouragement -- and that have become part of me:
“The waters don’t part until your feet get wet. Keep walking, and the waters will keep parting.”

Day and Tsou Family in China. APj in green coat :) After seeing Lelly's current pics that went with a previous post....I thought "What the hell! I might as well put some pics on too -- now that
I know how...sort of.

another holiday story!

It never ceases to amaze me how, in hindsight, I can find humor in the strangest places. Dead hamsters in freezers, bones jutting out of legs, parents who make you cry, allergic reactions to drug combina—oh? What’s that you say? I haven’t told you that one? Oh, well—
Easter was quickly advancing. It was the “family holiday” that was held at my house, since I had the vastness of space required for egg hunts. (Now ex)-husband’s family was of the Immaculate-Housekeeping religion, so I spent weeks tidying up the ranchette. And, as luck would have it, I got sick a week before D-day – oops, I mean Easter. Finally, I dragged my hacking body to the outpatient clinic on Good Friday, which turned out to be one of those oxymorons. The wise doctor (also oxymoron) gave me a prescription for Seldane (antihistamine/decongestant) and Erythromycin…..
Saturday morning broke with a frenzy – only 24 hours before the horde – oops guests – arrived. Frantically I scoured the bathroom floor. As I stood, I realized that my ankles were stiff, and so were my hands. “Hmm,” I thought, “Interesting….Ve-rrrrry Interesting.” But time was a-wasting! Carry on McDuff! To the other Loo!
It was while scrubbing the toilet that I realized I was having difficulty swallowing. As I stood and looked in the mirror, I noticed that my eyes were puffy….I tried to take a step closer….and realized that the soles of my feet felt like they were on fire.
“Honey? Something’s wrong. Can you bring me the phone?”
“Aw, can’t ya’ get it yourself? I’m on the computer.”
(yes, ex-husband was charmingly sweet)
I realized that I was having an allergic reaction, so I called the clinic.
“I think I’m having an allergic reaction. My hands and feet are tingly and swollen. My eyes are puffy and my throat feels like it’s closing shut.”
“Are you having trouble breathing?”
“Duh! I have bronchitis! Of course I’m having trouble! What should I do?”
“Well, ahhh, the doctors have left. Take some Benedryl and if you’re still having difficulty breathing you should go to the Emergency Room.”
As I hate hospitals…..I chugged Benedryl. Body effects seemed to halt their growth, but weren’t reversing. So, in an effort to help hasten my recovery, I went to sleep on the couch…..”
“Mommy”
“Yes Sweetie-darling”
“Mommy”
As I groggily open my eyes, I am greeted by the anxious sad face of Erynn (approx 4-5yrs), with tears brimming in her eyes.
“Yes baby, what is it?””Oh Mommy, the Easter Bunny didn’t come….I guess I was bad, huh?”
A big fat tear plinked out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. “Bad Mommy, Bad Mommy,” I scolded internally. “Think fast, think fast—“
“Oh baby – I’m sure the Easter Bunny was here. Maybe he hid your basket. Why don’t you go check up on the road by the mailbox?”
Her eyes brightened, and she lit out the door. “Gotta hurry! Bad Mommy! What were you thinking—“ I berated myself.
Leaping off the couch, I found the soles of my feet still felt like they had daggers in them. But it didn’t matter – my baby needed her basket. With a combination of hobbling, screaming and crying, I made my way to the kitchen, threw her basket together (all items were ready to go, just had not had time to assemble), and frantically tried to think where I could hide said basket. Looking out the front window, I saw that Erynn had scoured the road, and, finding no basket, had begun her journey back to the house.
Eureka! I thought of the perfect place in the backyard, and again, with the combination of hobbling, screaming and crying made my way to it, hid the basket and hurried back in.
Just in the nick of time! Erynn came through the door with a dejected, “No, Mommy…it wasn’t there.”
“Baby, remember that family of rabbits we saw hopping around last week? Maybe the Easter Bunny came to visit them. Where did you and your Dad see them go?”
“The wood pile!” she screeched and rushed out the back door.
Yes, there in the woodpile, next to the Rabbit famly den, was the basket, left by the Easter Bunny.
For the next 4 years, the Easter Bunny got up early on Easter morning to hide Erynn’s basket….next to the Rabbit family den…..in the wood pile.

just another Christmas story...

I hate surprises. Well, I love the idea of surprises: people jumping out and yelling, unexpected packages, etc. Getting to say such lines as, “Oh, my! You shouldn’t have!” and “Wow! I never expected this!” But the reality of it all…Nope, nada, not for me. If I think there’s gonna be a party, I’ll try to find out beforehand. If there’s a package, I’ve gotta at least shake it. Erynn thought it was normal to open “a present a day” for a week before Christmas. Even now, I’ve got to open at least one present a few days before Christmas! It got so bad for my folks while I was growing up, that my Mom and Dad had to become very sneaky and clever with wrapping my presents. Like the Christmas of my junior year.
The first week of December arrived, and because my Mom shopped all year, I knew all the presents were bought. And wrapped. And in the closet. I could almost hear them calling me.
“Jayne”
“Shut up. I want to be surprised this year.”
“No you don’t. You really want to see us now. You’re an actress! You can ACT surprised! Come on”
“Shut up! Really! This year—
“Oh you shut up! Now, you can come now or later. Come now or later, noworlater, noworlater, now, now -- "
“Oh fine. I’ll just shake ya. I don’t have to open any more—“
“That’s right. Come on up and shakeshakeshake…..”
And so up the stairs I went, and into the closet. The packages were all there, wrapped and stacked: it looked to be three presents for each of us six kids. Mom and Dad always tried to make it even – in numbers and dollars!
Hmmm…so I shook the first one. “Oh, this is easy!” I informed the other presents, “It’s a skirt. Hmm….probably a homemade one, so it can’t be the biggie!” So I grabbed the next package. That’s when I realized it was the only other package for me. “Only two?” I asked the packages.
“Well,” a rectangular present for sister JoJo answered, “ maybe there’s something else in it.”
“Good thinking! Thanks boxy!” So I shook….and could hear something inside…something chainy sounding. “Piece of cake!”
“Ohh, I don’t think even your Mom would wrap cake—“
“Oh Boxy, I didn’t mean it literally—oh for Pete’s sake, what am I doing talking to a box?! But it’s obvious: It’s a jewelry box. And it must have an expensive piece of jewelry inside….”
I showed an amazing amount of restraint by not opening the box right there. Actually, it wasn’t that amazing, because my Mom had started using that cheap tape – the kind that tore the paper. The kinda tape that made it almost impossible for me to unwrap my presents. I could wait….after all, it was only 22 days….
22 days! Almost a lifetime. At least twice that first week I found myself answering Boxy’s call to come and shake it. Each week the call grew stronger and stronger, but amazingly, I remained strong -- and so did the tape. By the 20th of December I was shaking the box on a daily basis. (Yes, I know….I had it bad.)
Finally, Christmas morning arrived. I could hardly stand it as we went in a circle, each opening our first package. I, of course, started with the skirt – and yes it was a skirt – and yes, it was homemade. (Yes, you’re right: I am that good.)
The anticipation was almost too much to bear. By this time, I was convinced that the Hope Diamond, or its equivalent, was in that box. As the paper came off, yes, I was right again! Jewelry box! Score! Come to me Hope Diamond! Lifting the lid ever so slowly, savoring each moment, slowly, slowly, until the necklace was revealed. A very nice……but plain…….inexpensive……necklace.
“There must be something else,” I thought, panickedly looking in the jewelry box for something I missed, when I heard a square sounding giggle. Looking up, I saw JoJo opening “Boxy,” which turned out to be a very nice, EXPENSIVE stereo. “Got to be—nothing!” the thoughts flew through my brain. “Calm down, don’t cry,” I silently comforted myself, “after all, Christmas is for the little ones. Maybe there wasn’t enough money…”
“What’s wrong, Jay-ne? Why aren’t you opening a present?” Mom asked.
“Looks like I’m done.”
“Oh….I’m sure there’s a present left. Did you look on the backside of the tree?”
“Oh, it’s okay, Mom. I love the skirt. And the necklace is sweet….and thanks for the jewelry box.” But silently I pleaded, “don’t tear up, don’t cry – it’s okay…”
“Oh, Missy…I’m sure there’s another package. Why don’t you look again,” reassured my Dad.
“Really, Daddy, it’s okay! There’s nothing else under the tree….but I love my presents, really I do,” blink, blink, keep the tears from showing.
‘Oh, maybe I left it upstairs” answered Mom, quickly getting up, as if she suddenly realized how grossly unfair the number and dollar value was
(--helLO! JoJo’s stereo, Jason’s bike, need I say more? And all I’ve got is a stupid--).
“Let me go upstairs—“
And the dam burst.
“Oh Mom! Stop it! You know there’s nothing else up there! You know I’ve been up there for weeks! You don’t—“
But she ignored my cries, and up the stairs she disappeared. I knew she’d probably come back down with some trinket….some dumb gift put aside for those forgotten birthdays and events, some stupid—
But wait! Everybody was grinning….I mean everybody: all 3 brothers, 2 sisters and my Dad. What did they all know that I didn’t know? And Mom was coming around the corner, dragging something big…something she was still trying to hide. –something that couldn’t possibly fit in the trinket box--
“Jay-ne, we knew you’d know what this was as soon as you saw the box. And we know that you can’t stay away from the presents. Sooooo, we hid this package over at the neighbors house. It’s been there all month. Hope you like this….”
And as soon as I saw the box – as tall as my waist, and kinda slanty/square in shape…yes I knew. The tears welled up in my eyes…..and as my entire family cracked up, because they all knew that I knew that they knew that I had been shaking packages for weeks. So they all laughed…..I cried….
Yes…it was another "Christmas because Jayne cried"

because my mystery present was...
a new guitar.