Dream a Little Dream ...and Make it a Big Dream

This is the story that was printed in the newspaper...along with a second part after the "waiting begins". Hope you all like it. Tell me what you think. Don't worry, I can take it. I might add that originally the story was complete with the "waiting begins" part but the editor wanted a second part, or continuation, in order to have a follow up printing. Like a series I guess. Which means I had to rethink another ending beyond the first ending. Wasn't easy and I'm not sure the second ending really fits the story as a whole plus I wrote it about two years ago so the groove I was in at the time just isn't here now. At any rate, here it is. You all (if you are still here) might remember the first part of this story from few years ago. 

Dream a Little Dream
Lee Ann Fleetwood
As the last page slips into the tray she gathers the pile up, straightens them up, and lays them down on her desk. She sits awhile just looking at them and not thinking a whole lot about anything much. For the moment the "what if" game is being silent and her thoughts are wispy things that have no substance.

She reaches over and takes the single white envelope from the edge of the desk and writes an address on it and then her own. She picks up the papers and starts to slide them inside but hesitates. After a moment she sits back with the papers and once again begins to read what she has written though she has read it many times already. It has been a long time in coming making the journey from the darkest recesses of her mind to the white pristine papers in her printer.
As each word of each line skims across her vision her mind instantly plays out the scenes of her life; the good, the not so good, and the ones she wishes she could forget, but of course, that will never happen. Some things are with you forever.

She reaches the end and once again straightens the pages into an orderly pile and slips them into the waiting envelope. Along with the papers she inserts her hopes and dreams that within these pages her future lies. That the events of her life will finally have meaning because to believe it had none is more than she can bear.

She lays the envelope down while she dresses but can't help looking over now and then and realizes the power that is contained within those pages. The power to change her life the thought frightens her nearly as much as it sparks a bright light of hope within her heart.

She slips on her jacket and collects her keys then walks over and stands in front of her desk looking down. The sudden urge to just chuck the whole thing in the garbage can at her feet is so strong she realizes her hand is already reaching out to do just that before she can stop it. She snatches it back and takes a deep breath. A small pep talk was in order and she gives it and listens patiently to it before grabbing the envelope quickly and heads for the door.

As she sits in her car she tosses it carelessly into the passenger seat almost as an afterthought. If she dwells too long on its importance she feels she will lose herself in the enormity of what she is about to do and, of course, back out while she still can. Backing out is NOT an option. Just start the car and get moving.

Traffic is sufficient to require concentration but she still manages to steal a glance or two at the seat next to her. The closer she gets to her destination the harder her heart pounds until eventually she can hear neither the sounds of traffic nor the negative voice in her head that has been her constant companion these long lonely years.
She pulls up into the parking lot, snatches the envelope, and quickly enters the building as if the hounds of hell are on her heels. She can't help but glance over her shoulder just to make sure it IS just her imagination.

She arrives at the counter and thrusts the envelope that contains her life at the surprised employee. Almost instantly she starts to grab it back as if discovering her child in the arms of a stranger. She catches herself, steps back from the counter and plasters a smile on her face to put the cautious employee at ease, or so she hopes.

“Uhm, can I help you,” he asks?

“Yes, I would like to send that by registered mail,” she answers quickly. She is pretty sure she sounds normal, at least to her ears, though they are full of the sound of her beating heart.

“Ok. Fill out this paperwork and that will be $6.80 and it should be there by Thursday,” he says as he places a sticker on her life and sets it behind him on the outgoing mail shelf. She looks at it sitting there and can't help but imagine the little adventure it is about to embark on. Once again the analogy of a child comes to mind. Her child is venturing out into the world and she won't be there to keep it safe. Her heart not only pounds but squeezes too with pain and trepidation.

She quickly looks away before the tears that threaten start to fall. You would think she had just laid baby Moses in a basket preparing to push him off into the unknown waters the way she felt.

She fills out the paper work and pays the fee then turns to walk away. She can't help but look one more time at her hope for the future lying there so innocently on the shelf. Such power in that envelope, she is amazed there isn't some sign, almost biblical in nature that would indicate the essence of what those pages contain.

She gets back in her car and starts the engine. Buckles her seat belt then turns the radio on. Checks her mirrors before pulling out and heads for home and it is only then that she allows herself to dream a little dream.

And the waiting begins...

Once she reaches home the real waiting begins. Even though she is aware that it could be days, weeks, even months before her intense pangs of labor bear fruit, she cannot help but count every moment of that unknowable future. She will ignore for the moment the possibility that she will never hear a single word about the package containing her dreams for her future and that it could end its short unassuming life lying forgotten and collecting dust in some storage room somewhere. Hardly worth thinking about so has shut that train of thought down instantly whenever it rears its ugly head.  

She gets on with the business of living her life as best she can. Working a dead end job that does nothing to satisfy her desires but pays her bills, what more could one ask for? Days filled with numerous trips to her local bookstore and library to fill her restless need to live an exciting full filling life even if it’s vicariously through someone else’s version of it. She wakes in the morning and falls seamlessly, if not contentedly, into sleep every night having managed to not let her gaze rest too long on the passing days as noted by the kitty calendar hanging in her kitchen.

She keeps busy doing lots of seemingly important things mixed with utterly pointless things. Rinse and repeat, and the days pass. Then weeks pass and slowly weeks turn into months. Turning the page of the calendar from one month to the next has become a ritual that is accomplished with a deep cleansing sigh and a mental kick in the pants to not give up, not just yet. Patience got her through her childhood of fear filled days and terrifying nights and patience saw her through a very long marriage to a very unkind man. Patience was her best friend and soul companion when all others had walked away or simply forgotten she existed. Patience had not let her down so far and she was more than thankful for that small spark of optimism in her life.

If you asked her later about the day she received the call she had been waiting for all her life, a call that started its process of reaching out to her way back in her childhood when every step she took and every action for or against her lead her through her life for better or worse up to that very moment she was meant to answer an unrecognized number, she would say it was among one of the best and worst days of her life. A life filled with a great many worst days but very few best ones.

She was on the side of the road staring down at a flat tire, already very late for a work related meeting, Her dress, torn from a grasping needy edge on the car door and a newly minted speeding ticket tossed angrily onto the passenger seat were just the latest in a day full of “should of stayed in bed” moments. By the time she answered her mobile with an exasperated frustrated sigh hissed through clenched teeth, she was already mentally preparing herself to do battle with whatever new foe was bringing even more bad news; however, the proverbial straw for this particular camel’s back was not in her cards for today. Oh no, not today. Today that camel was about to lighten its straw filled load considerably if she had only known.

“Hello,” she nearly yelled into the phone.

“Hello,” replied a somewhat hesitant voice. “Is this Renee Miller?’

She realized she needed to calm down and not take her escalating bad mood out on the poor stranger who chose to call her at the worst possible moment. “Yes,” she replied in a calm even voice. “Who is this?”

“Hello, Mrs. Miller. This is William Conner calling from Blue Moon Publishing Company. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?” he answered with no hesitation at all in his voice now.

At the exact moment that he uttered the words Blue Moon Publishing it would seem the world came to a sudden and quiet end for it simply ceased to exist for her. She heard nothing, saw nothing, was aware of absolutely nothing other than the crashing thundering sound of a heartbeat that appeared to have forgotten how to function like a heartbeat should. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing at all came out. She closed her mouth and continued to live in a world that no longer existed for a few more crashing thundering heartbeat filled moments.

“Yes,” she replied again but gone was the calm even voice. This yes was little more than a breath filled release.

He rapidly started speaking but she only heard the odd word here and there accompanied by an odd tapping in the back ground. Somewhere in her mind she pictured this unknown William Conner tapping a pen against the edge of his desk, possibly with his feet propped up somewhere along its smooth surface. Words that did manage to pierce her fog filled mind included, “wonderfully written “emotionally powerful”, and “best seller”. Those two words evaporated the fog instantly and the world came crashing back into focus.

“What did you just say? Could you repeat that please?” she asked with a voice full of fear, incomprehension, and yes, hope. Hope that she hadn’t just miss heard him in the absolutely worst way possible and that this small flame of hope was going to quickly be stamped out before the much needed oxygen of life was breathed into it.  She pressed the phone painfully against her ear to drown out every other sound, including her own still thundering heartbeat. “Could you repeat that please,” she asked with as calm a voice as she could muster.

“No problem. I said that we received your manuscript and we are very excited about it. We at Blue Moon don’t usually say this to potential clients on the phone during a first contact call but Mrs. Miller, you just may have a best seller on your hands,” he answered with a touch of laughter in his voice. “We would very much like you to meet with us and discuss the publishing of your book.”+

“Really? You want to meet with me?” she asked tremulously. Not daring to believe that her dream was about to become reality. Possibly. Maybe.  “About publishing my book?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he asked. “It’s a beautifully written book, at least the chapters we have are so let’s assume the rest will follow suit. Could you come see me next Monday at our offices at 9:00 a.m...? Will that be fine?”

“Yes,” she nearly shouted once again but this time from within a bubble of exploding happiness. “Yes, that would be perfect.” Was it possible that all the pain she had suffered in her life, the loneliness and oceans of tears, the dark days that accumulated into dark years occasionally brightened with lightning strikes of happiness was about to finally mean something beyond she just had been dealt a bad hand? Were the hours and days and months spent pouring her grief and pain into her computer while keeping a box of tissues nearby that constantly needed replacing at last going to MEAN something beyond her life just sucked? She was beginning to think maybe it did. If it meant nothing more than her story might affect others in some way that benefited them to some degree than her life did mean something, at least to her, and that was a feeling she had needed to know all her life. The smile beginning on her face felt strange and out of place but also very good.

“Great,” he said. Monday at 9:00 it is. See you then.” He hung up and several moments passed before she closed her phone as well. The flat tire, the torn dress, the late appointment all seemed to fade away as she contemplated Monday at 9:00 a.m. and the impossible possibilities. Several cars passed by and the amused drivers were treated to the vision of a woman in her 40’s with long red hair in a blue flowery dress twirling happily with arms stretched out and her face raised up to the sun. A very odd reaction indeed for someone with a flat tire who looked like she needed to be somewhere important.

A reoccurring dream has me head scratching...again.

As I have stated several times on this blog, I often have dreams over and over again that generally end up meaning something to me, or coming true in some cases. Quite often these reoccurring dreams occur in the same place, like a bedroom or a particular road that ran near where I lived for awhile in my teens. One dream I have had many times over the past few years puts me in a bedroom, though this one is a room I'm not familiar with, in which I am on one side of the locked door and someone else is on the other side trying very hard to get in. That someone is almost always my father though now and again it is some unknown person. 

These dreams are not exactly scary but I do wake up from them feeling stressed and a bit anxious. I'm not sure what the purpose is considering my father has been dead for quite some time now. It's not like I will ever find myself on the other side of a door from him while he tries to knock it down. 

The more interesting thing to me is that I don't feel as if I dream that often. I know we forget our dreams generally upon waking giving us the impression we don't dream, so that may be it, but most mornings I wake up with no memory of having dreamt. When I do dream they are vivid life like events that have very little fantasy type scenarios involved. In order to come true they need to be capable of coming true. Dreams that reoccur often do come true in some fashion, though, so I suppose if I dreamed of flying it could be me in an airplane and not me personally flying...but my dreams don't generally work like that either. One thing doesn't generally stand for another thing. If I ever dream that I can fly chances are I can and just need to muster up the courage to jump off the highest available peak. My dreams are more like that .

 The dream about my father on the other side of a door trying to get me is on my mind a lot as he recently showed up in once again doing just that. The way my dreams generally work doesn't mean my father on the other side of a door trying to get me symbolizes some inner angst...but that at some point in my future, my dad will be on the other side of a door trying to get me. That is what the dream tells me..but that is impossible. Over the years I have had this same dream too many times to count, but I don't give it too much thought because my father is dead. End of story. The dream can't come true...so why do I keep having them?

One other interesting thing about my dreams is that I don't dream of the people currently in my life all that often. While married to my ex for 20 years he rarely showed up in my dreams...as did my father while living at home. An occasional cameo role is about the most they could hope for. My children probably show up more often than any others in my life, but then again, still not as often as it would seem they should. The love of my life probably even less so. This is something I have always found a little strange. My dreams are generally about me, of course, but often just me or me with unknown people set in familiar surroundings...friends and family are almost never co stars. 

I have no idea if that means anything at all in regards to my psychological make up or sanity level but it is something I have experienced all my life so is normal, whatever that it. However, dreaming of my dead father in a way that makes it seem as if a future event might take place that is impossible (unless one believes in the zombie potential...hmmm) but also knowing that those dreams of mine that do reoccur often come true in surprisingly accurate ways has me scratching my head.

Not sure if I should find this interesting...or be worried about it. My dad alive was hard enough to live with....not sure I want to find out what the alternative is.

Oh mind of mine...

Being alone with my thoughts
What black chaos
What red pain

Filling my head with your sneaky ways
Devious pain filled images
Do you even care...oh mind of mine

Three little words on a screen
Causing doubt...hurt...regrets
Squeezing my heart

Wonder of wonders
It still functions...beats
Tho each one leaves me breathless

Choking my throat
Filling my eyes so I can't see
Squeezing...always squeezing

Oh mind of mine
You are not really my friend
Will you leave me too?

I wish I knew how to be free....

This song has been with me for years...I guess I would consider it the soundtrack to my life. Once again I am listening to it over and over...

I Know Your All Just Dying to Know This Shit About Me!!

So theres a "47 things about me" thingy going round the blogs like an unvaccinated virus...so of course I have to give it a go. Why 47 and not 50 or 40...? Who knows...but you will all feel so much better and definitely get a much deserved night of blissful sleep once you have learned these 47 things about me.


I promise to be honest...ish!!!


1. Do you like blue cheese? I prefer my cheese orange...or maybe white...blue? not so much.


2. Have you ever smoked heroin? Only thing I have ever smoked were my tires on some very hot tarmac.


3. Do you own a gun? No...and theres a certain person who is, no doubt, very thankful about that.


4. What flavour do you add to your drink at Sonic? No Sonic here in Bahrain but when in Texas I get ice tea...so I add ice tea flavour.


5. Do you get nervous before doctors visits? Nervous along with manic will writing...can never be too careful in Bahrain with doctors.


6. What do you think of hotdogs? I think you should open a window and let them get some air...oh you mean the kind you eat...well then...has there ever been a more unhealthily evil food on the planet that tasted so good?


7. Favorite Christmas movie? Old Yeller? damn! thats not a Christmas movie. How about Parent Trap? Crap! thats not even close...its been years since I seen Christmas movies...I dont even know what constitutes one anymore...but I did like Gettin Jiggy With It...oh hell thats a Will Smith song...sigh.


8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Diet pepsi on ice...dont ask.


9. Can you do pushups? A what?


10. Whats your favorite piece of jewellery? Pearl necklace given to me by bestest best friend.


11. Favorite hobby? Reading...writing...sometimes at the same time. Im flexible like that.


12. Whats one trait you hate about yourself? I dont have enough faith in my capabilities.


13. Middle name? yup...I got one


14. Name 3 thoughts at this moment. I'm starting to get a headache. My nose hurts and I wonder what I will watch at the cinema tonight.


15. Name 3 things you bought yesterday? Credit for my phone, gas, and more time on my life by going to the gym (heres hoping anyhow)


16. Name 4 drinks you regularly drink? 4? damn! diet pepsi, water, milk, and diet pepsi...oh said that already...uhm...sometimes ice tea.


17. Current worry? Getting my 11 year old back home to me. Need money for airplane ticket. I seriously miss that boy.


18. Do you have A.D.D.? Im the wrong person to ask that I guess...but Im thinking no.


19. Current hate right now? Cant find a job and take care of my kids properly.


20. Favorite place to be? Any place Im having a good time...but I love the mountains and nature. Ironic that I ended up in Bahrain...sheesh!!


21. How did you bring in the New Year? same as every year...asleep...Im boring like that...sigh!


22. Where would you like to go? Home...after that...Ireland and Scotland. New Zealand..and Japan.


23. Name two people who will complete this? If I could know such things I would be playing the lottery.


24. Do you own slippers? yes...do I wear them?...I generally forget I have them so thanks for reminding me.


25. What shirt are you wearing? An over sized white t shirt for men...for sleeping in. (man with shirt was optional I guess)


26. Do you like sleeping in satin sheets? never have so have no clue


27. Can you whistle? why yes


28. Favorite color? red


29. Would you be a pirate? not my thing


30. What songs do you sing in the shower? dont think I sing in the shower...concentrating too hard on not dropping the soap (small shower)


31. Favorite girls name? uhm...why?


32. Favorite boys name? same as above


33. Whats in your pocket right now? In my jammies so no pockets.


34. Last thing that made you laugh? the poodles


35. Best bed sheets as a child? definitely the flannel sheets...spent some quality time making lightning under the covers...good times


36. Worst injury you ever had? mental meltdown...havent recovered fully yet. Physically I broke my entire toenail off once...the big toe...it hurt...I required a band aid.....and several kisses from my mother.


37. Do you love where you live? not even close


38. How many tv's do you have in your house? one but its not on very often


39. Whose your loudest friend? bestest best friend Maryam (dont get mad girl...you know its true)


40. How many dogs do you have? 2 poodles Jack and Candy


41. Does someone have a crush on you? If you do...dont be shy...come on and tell me. ...uh...probably not.


42. What are your favorite books? That is just too hard to answer. Im eclectic and read everything. I did love the All Creatures Great and Small series as a child and Watership Down and Dantes Inferno are a few that come to mind.


43. What is your favorite candy? toss up between peanut M&M's and Reecee cups


44. Favorite sport team? I like watching sport in general but dont have a favorite.


45. What song do you want played at your funeral? are you saying Im going to die someday? why you have to be so mean...now I know why I have a headache....people like you are such downers...damn!!!


46. What were you doing at 12 am last night? Facebooking...told you I was boring.


47. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? Wonder if the dogs made a mess...sigh.


So there you have it folks...47 amazing facts about me that gives you a more rounded picture of yours truly. Your heartfelt sighs of content can be heard through the computer...your welcome.

Everyone do me a favor...would ya?

Hey you all...I have a question. I need some honest answers please...dont worry about my feelings...on some things Im fairly easy going...lol.


See that picture of me over on the right side of the screen...my profile pic...tell me honestly...do I look like a guy in any way shape or form?


The reason I ask is because I get referred to as "Mr" or "Sir" quite a lot when being addressed...generally by salespeople etc. Now I dont want to be all racist or anything but I have noticed that its generally Filipino women that call me as such...before they take a second closer look and realize their mistake. I can only surmise that happens when they notice Mr has a nice set of breasts...sigh.


Anyhow, I pretty much look like that, my picture seen there, all the time. I dont wear makeup...I do have my bad hair days...and I do wear glasses, which Im not wearing in that pic purely for reasons of vanity....but still...I dont get why Im mistaken for a man so often....anyone?


Do I look like a guy to you all?....dont worry...I can take it like a man...ha ha!!!

10 Things About Me

Not in the mood to really think up a post these days so will fill out this tag by CM http://cm-justthinking.blogspot.com/ 10 Things About Me others might not know. Enjoy...or not...lol.


1. I was born in the elevator in the hospital...incidentally I HATE elevators. Will avoid if I can. This hate is tempered if my floor is above 4...lol.


2. Was considered having a higher than average intelligence when young...I skipped a grade of school and was going to skip another but my Mother hesitated. She didnt want me to be picked on by big kids...or at least bigger than the ones that already picked on me. My intelligence seemed to antagonize people...I dont know why. 20 years of forced inertia has pretty much kept all that intelligence under wraps...sigh.


3. I use to be fairly outgoing and was considered the class clown (dont laugh I was quite the funny girl)...now people tend to view me with caution and approach on high alert. I find very little funny anymore and I tolerate people less and less. Consequently I have few friends and no desire to make more for the most part.


4. I use to get massive ear aches and ear infections when young. I experienced both ear drums being blown out...consequently I dont hear very well. I tend to use that as an excuse not to hear people sometimes.


5. I wrote a short story in high school. My teacher stole it...I mean said he lost it. I happened to see it printed in a magazine a few years later after I had left home. He had changed it somewhat but I recognized it as mine obviously.....so...Im published...lol.


6. I generally read several books at once. I keep one in the car as well for when Im waiting in traffic...at a shop etc.


7. I had a crush on a high school teacher...and said teacher overheard me say this to my friend one day. He managed to finish the year without running the other way every time he seen me...he was also my favorite teacher. I might do a post about him..ha ha.


8. I contemplate murder at least once a day.


9. There is very little in my life I feel satisfied about. If I could do it all again...I wouldnt know where to start. I have a list of people I am so angry at I cant sleep at night sometimes...and my name is at the top of that list.


10. I no longer feel religion has power in my life....at least not the type of religion so many choose to follow. I feel adrift and alone....but thats ok for now.


I dont think I will tag anyone as I feel its putting an obligation on them they might not appreciate...so I will leave it for anyone that chooses to do so...let us know so we can check you out though.

Things I Wish For

*for some reason the paragraph spacing isnt working very well of late...which is why my paragraphs have no spaces between them...sorry for the way the post just runs on in one long patch. Anyone know how I can fix that?

Ive noticed on other blogs people often make lists of various things. A lot of them make wish lists....things they want obviously but for whatever reason cant seem to get. I figured thats as good a post as any other I was thinking of doing just now...so heres my wish list...well thought out but by no means complete.

TOP TEN WISH LIST

1. I wish I could magically wake up tomorrow and be 50 pounds lighter....OK I lie...I wish I could magically find the desire to go exercise so that some day I could wake up and be 50 pounds lighter.

2. I wish I could afford to go to college...or at least take some courses on computers and journalism.

3. I wish I could find a job that would allow me to afford to take those courses.

4. I wish I could guarantee my children will not follow my footsteps into abusive marriages...and if they do happen to find themselves in abusive marriages...I hope they have the strength and courage to get themselves out of it. And I hope they reach out to me for help and not keep their pain hidden.

5. I wish I could pay off my little red Daihatsu jeep so I could send it to my daughter in Texas...she loves it and I would be over the moon to see the look on her face when she seen it. Still another Bd25oo or so to go. Some day.

6. I wish I could get some answers to questions that seem to not have answers. The not knowing the "why" of something is the most confusing and heartbreaking thing of all sometimes.

7. I wish I could finish writing this book. Actually I wish I wasnt so damn afraid of finishing this book cause then what will I do with the finished product...burn it...store it away...what?

8. I wish I felt I deserved more than what I have been given.

9. I wish I was satisfied with exactly what I have been given.

10. I wish I knew that all of this past 23 (hell 40) years of pain was worth it to get to this moment in time and that there is truly a heaven and hell and if I do end up in hell...I wish the deepest wish of all to see a few familiar faces down there with me.

Just Cant Say thank You Enough!!!

I wanted to extend my thank you's to someone that reached out an anonymous hand (all though not quite so anonymous in some ways) to help me in my time of need.

He chooses to remain unnamed and said "if we cant help each other why are we here".

He truly was my Knight in Shining Armour and asked for nothing in return for this act of selfless giving.

All I can say is thank you...and we can never say it enough as this post proves. I tried many times to put this Thank You pic just once...each time it kept printing and printing them over and over again...eventually I decided...maybe it was trying to tell me something...so I left them as they were...might be a bit over the top for a post...but really...can we ever say thank you enough when people reach out and acknowledge our need...and do what they can to assuage it?

Thank You M.Y.....maybe you dont want others to know who you are...but I do...and my daughter does as well.....and as long as she knows (and me of course) that there are still good people in the world who help without expecting explanations...conditions...or gratitude after every little (or big) kindness...then she has learned a very valuable lesson.

Thank you.

Can You Tell Me Whats Wrong With You?

For a few years in the 90's we lived out in Hamad Town. This is a govt housing complex that just seems to go on and on without end. There are 22 sections of housing, or neighborhood type settings, and we lived in the 19th section. We were among the first families in that particular area...and only second family on my street...we did not own a car at that time nor have a phone...and neither did our Syrian neighbors. It was a sort of new found freedom for me as I could actually go outside and enjoy the sunshine etc...something I couldnt do in my MIL's house because of its design etc. I could take a chair and sit out in front of my house as very few cars even drove by. It had a sort of desolate and isolated feeling to it and because we didnt have a car...very very far from anywhere...it was during this period of time that I discovered I was allergic to ant bites...particularly the solid little (not so little) black ones that could be found everywhere. Picture this...

For most of my life (up til the time of this event) I had been a pretty healthy person. Never found myself in the hospital for anything more serious then delivering my babies. Oh I had a case of food poisoning now and then just like most everyone else...but nothing that ever left me feeling as if my very life was hanging in the balance. The interesting thing about discovering I was allergic to ant bites...was that I had been bitten by them many times before in the years I lived in Bahrain without nothing more then a red swollen bump and some mild pain to show for my suffering. All that changed one afternoon while I was taking a nap on a cushion on the floor.

I woke up feeling a sharp pain on my leg and when I investigated the source I
discovered some large swellings like in this picture...and a black ant smooshed
against my skin. Within just a few moments of waking I started experiencing one

of the worst sensations I have ever known....an
extremely intense and horrible itching feeling all over my body...it felt as if a million and one little creepy crawlies were under my skin and having a party of sorts. It was absolutely horrendous and there are hardly adequate words to describe the intense desire to actually scratch open your skin and get the "buggers" out.

Every part of my skin was alive with that crawly itchy feeling and it was then I realized those couple of small swellings had spread throughout my entire body. I had welts from top to bottom...which made it impossible to scratch as everything was tender to the touch. Having no idea exactly what was going on I shouted to my husband who came to see what I was fussing about.

He took one look at my face and nearly passed out. I didnt realize it but of course my face was busy swelling up too. He pulled me up and dragged me over to a wall mirror and the beast that was reflected back at me was the stuff that nightmares are made of. My eyes were swollen, my lips looked like I had botoxed the hell out of them and my entire face was just a mish mash of lumps and bumps...it was then I realized my tongue was swelling up to...along with my throat.

At this point Im fairly sure not more than 3 or 4 minutes had passed from the time I woke up from the sting...to when I was standing in front of the mirror...and yet I looked like something that belonged in a freak show....but none of that worried me half as much as the fact that I was finding it harder and harder to breath properly....my throat was closing up.

My husband went in search of a car (no neighbors remember and no phone) while I put some clothes on as best I could. By the time he came back having found a rare car passing through our neighborhood...my breath was literally whistling through my very small windpipe. It was here that I felt the stirrings of potential death looming over me...we all need to breath to live right...and my ability to breath was being seriously threatened...and we were far from anywhere...far from the nearest hospital. I was freaking out big time.

On the way to the hospital I was alternating between trying to concentrate on breathing...and not scratching myself to death. Everywhere on me was on fire and I wanted to tear my clothes off...and then my skin!!! By this time my tongue had swollen so much I actually could not close my mouth around it nor swallow very well. I had tears streaming down my swollen eyes that were nearly closed completely and even my hearing was affected so I assume inside my ears had swollen as well. It took around 20 min to reach the hosp and by this time I couldnt walk due to the swollen state of my feet...so my husband ran to find a wheelchair.

Once he had me inside he left me with a nurse while he dashed off to sign me in and get my paperwork. Up till this point in my life I had never seen anyone suffering from an allergic reaction other than the comedic routines you might see on tv that make fun of the face swellings etc...none of those had ever shown the really dangerous side of allergic reactions...the potential fatal aspect of it due to anaphylatic shock (the result of your body fighting against the allergen by flooding the body with histamine..which results in the extreme swelling of all soft tissues etc)...for many people, from the onset of the allergen entering the body to the inability to breath etc it can take mere moments and if immediate medical attention is not sought and an adrenalin and anti histamine injection given to reduce the swelling and other symptoms...the reaction can be fatal. Up to this point in my very short life as an allergy patient suffering from anaphylatic shock...I assumed the nurse standing before me would immediately understand what had happened, what was happening, and what needed doing about it...instead she looked at me with one of the most curious and puzzled looks Ive ever seen on a human face before and said...

"can you tell me whats wrong with you?"

Uh what? Isnt that your job...Im just the helpless victim here who cant answer you even if I wanted too because my tongue has swollen so much there is no room for adequate speech. My hands flying up to my face indicating my inability to speak did not apparently register properly with her as she asked me the same question several times. Ditto with the hangs clasped around my throat indicating I couldnt breath propely....nothing.

Now I dont want to make light of this situation (all though now I can almost laugh about it...almost) but it really just seemed like something out of an In Living Color episode. Something Jim Carey would have been doing some crazy skit over...you know...nearly dying patient...crazy mixed up doctor (nurse) and hilarity had by all...except nobody was laughing...least of all me.

My husband thankfully showed up at this time and gave the nurse her much sought after answer then asked her if she was sure she was a nurse? Again with the confused look on her face...ok whatever...just wheel me to the REAL medical expert so I can get some actual medical aid for Gods sake!!

Thankfully the doctor took one look at me and immediately ordered the anti histamine and adrenalin shots and an IV etc and I spent the next 2 hours under observation to make sure my airway didnt close completely and all was fine. It didnt and I was so I went home. All though all the swelling had pretty much gone down by this time the bitten area on my leg was extremely tender and painful and would remain so for about a week.

I had never been so scared in my life as I was that day. Not being able to draw a breath has got to be one of the most frightening experiences for anyone to go through and I wouldnt want anyone to find out the truth of that statement. I immediately went and researched all I could about allergic reactions and what I could do if it happened again.

One of the best lines of defense against allergic reactions is to have one of these Epi-pens. Immediately upon realization that you have been bitten you can self
inject (or have someone else do it if you cant) and it gives you a dose of adrenalin which will help fight against the massive swelling etc. until you can get to the hospital. I went to the doctor in order

to be prescribed one and discovered they dont have them in Bahrain. Considering how fast someone could die from anaphylatic shock....and the odds that there must be lots of people in Bahrain that are allergic to something...I was surprised and rather angry that this life saving medical aid wasnt made available here. I did find out it was available in Saudi but had no way to get it personally (husband wasnt the sort to go out of his way to save my life...going to Saudi was out of his way).

This meant of course that every time I have been bitten in Bahrain by one of those black ants I have had to suffer varying degrees of an allergic reaction. Sometimes its fairly mild...with maybe just intense itching etc..or other times just some mild swelling (Ive gotten pretty good at determining just how strong or mild a reaction will be as my body lets me know literally withing 20 to 30 seconds whether or not I need to seriously hustle to the nearest hospital) but at least 4 times I have had to be rushed to the hospital with full blown anaphylatic shock in progress and count myself lucky that I made it in time..each time.

This last visit to the states I actually remembered to go see a local doc and he prescribed me the Epi Pen...two of them actually since its not available here...but Ive only got one as they are expensive and I couldnt afford both at the time...but I count myself lucky to have that one...it could be the difference between life and death for me...now all I have to do is wonder if I will have the nerve to jab my thigh with it when and if the time comes...Im thinking not!!! Ouch!

*side note* after that first harrowing encounter with anaphylatic shock...I went home exhausted and scared out of my mind praying that I never had to go through that again...as fate would have it (oh you fickle fate)...the VERY NEXT DAY I was back in the hospital having been bitten on the arm while sitting on the couch. At least that time the nurse I saw took immediate action and I was able to avoid the comedic routine...sigh.

Sometimes You Just Gotta Go With the Punch!!!...pt 1

Most of my life Ive been a rather patient and nonviolent person...nonviolent in that I dont generally shout and get all worked up unless seriously antagonized for a prolonged period of time....and I abhor violence since I was victim of it for most of my life as well. I figure if you cant either talk it out...or walk away until you can talk it out...then you need to do some growing up...violence doesnt solve anything.

Having said that...there have been a few occasions in my life when I have just wanted to haul off and smack someone...9 times out of 10 I havent of course...the moment you hit someone you are no longer in control...of yourself or what the other person might do as a reaction...so not hitting is usually the better option...but now and then...that 10th time...you forget all self control and let her fly!! Oh the fun that happens after that!

Im thinking of a particular incident in my life that happened during the Gulf War...remember the first Gulf War with Georgie #1? I was here in Bahrain for that...and I might add some of the things that went on in Bahrain during that time is worthy of a post all by itself...anyhow I digress...

At the time of the Gulf War I was still fairly young and still quite naive about the goings on among the Muslims I was surrounded by. In the 23 years Ive been here of course I have learned that Arab/Muslims get up to all sorts of sin just like us in the "immoral West"...they just tend to hide it better. I get irritated when Muslims point fingers from their high horses about how sinful the West is...meanwhile I personally know they are just as happy to engage in sex and all its forms of debauchery as nonMuslims are. However, at this point in my life over here I was still in awe over the fact that Muslim girls were such modest and shy creatures...and would never EVER engage in premarital sex (I of course new that Muslim boys were doing it...as do boys all over the world....lol)...yeah right...I was seriously in need to have my blinders removed...and removed they were...picture this....

One night I found myself out with my SIL, my little girl, and SIL's teen daughter. We had been to the shops and were back in our neighborhood headed home. Imagine my surprise when we came across SIL's oldest teen daughter out in the street...and with a boy no less. Shock!! Horror!! She hung out with boys? No way!! Anyhow, upon seeing her mother she came running to the car and sobbed out a story of eye opening and blinder removing proportions...I was sitting there with my mouth seriously hanging open and my eyes bugged out. Remember, I was still under the greenhorn assumption that Muslim girls did not engage in any sort of contact with boys...much less have boyfriends...funny now when I think of it.

Her story was thus...she was with her current boyfriend...and her ex-boyfriend was being a shit by following them around shouting out "lies" about how she had slept with him...and his friends...and thus was a slut and everyone should know...especially new boyfriend. Now I was sitting there assuming SIL was going to kick the ass of her daughter for messing with boys in the first place...get her ass in the car and take us home and then commence kicking her slutty ass...oh how wrong I was. Daughters ass was never in danger...but ex-boyfriends ass was definitely in her sights.

It was at this specific moment that ex-boyfriend decided to drive by in his car...and teen daughter pointed him out with a shriek heard round the world...without even a moments hesitation my SIL was after him...and it was one of those moments when you just know that the night is not going to end well...but really cant do anything about it. The rest of us in the car were just along for the ride...or so I thought.

She chased him up and down streets for nearly half an hour...flashing her lights and honking her horn...shouting at him to pull over. At one point she even flew down a one way street...the wrong way...and it was here I seriously started thinking about grabbing my infant daughter and jumping out at the next stop...the lady had lost her mind. (something she seemed happy to prove again and again over the years)

At some point...I dont recall how...we all ended up in the airport parking lot. This was back in the day before paid parking was in effect so we could just drive right in. Lets set the scene here...there was our car with SIL, me, little girl, and teen daughter...there was oldest teen daughter with current boyfriend in another car...and troublemaker ex-boyfriend in his car...I do believe he had a friend with him or maybe it was just someone that showed up later. Oh yes...there were the strangers walking in and out that decided to stop and see what all the scandal was about.

Long story short here...oldest teen daughter immediately went into her soon to be famous hysterical mode...this entailed mindless screaming and shouting of which nobody could understand a word of...which eventually resulted in her throwing herself (or rather affecting a movie start swoon) to the the parking lot pavement and thus preceded to put on a scene any leading actress would die for...I can be cynical about it now as I came to know oldest teen daughter a bit better over the years and realized she really was rather a slut...but at the time I was falling for it hook line and sinker and was seriously freaking out over the commotion.

During this heroine scene of Oscar proportions SIL was screaming at ex-boyfriend accusing him of slandering her daughter...the same daughter that was out with current boyfriend after leaving ex-boyfriend in the dust...hmmm? New boyfriend was sort of standing by not sure what to do...wondering if he had picked a bad apple or what (eventually new boyfriend and oldest teen daughter would marry...but I cant say its a true love story...so much drama all the time)...and younger teen daughter and I were standing back wondering when the police would show up considering the amount of attention we were drawing.

Now up to this point I wasnt really angry...I was more shocked than anything. Remember at the time I was pretty naive to the actual activities some girls got up too...and so couldnt really allow myself to believe at this point that oldest teen daughter was in fact deserving of the slur she was so adamantly causing a scene over. Not that I believe girls deserve the title "slut" merely for engaging in sex...but you have to understand the mindset of this culture...and how it can influence you fairly quickly when you are dumped into it headfirst and with no "normal" people to keep your open mind...well...open...does that make sense?

So at this point I was standing back observing all the commotion...taking it all in...and this is when my anger slowly started building...picture this...

Oldest teen daughter was stretched out on the cement flailing her arms and legs...tearing at her clothes and declaring her reputation ruined because of ex-boyfriends jealousy and lying tongue...SIL was bending over her trying to get her up off the ground and screaming at others to mind their own business. New boyfriend was standing by not doing anything...not even engaging ex-boyfriend in a show of loyalty by at least verbally kicking his ass...what a wuss!! And the thing that sent my low grade anger into full blown pissed off was the reaction of ex-boyfriend to all this scandal he had started...

He was standing back...away from the melee...hands crossed over his chest...superior air about him...and a very VERY smug look on his face...almost as if he was telling everyone around him...look at what I did...I did this!!! That smug look is what sent me over the edge. Maybe oldest teen daughter deserved what he was saying about her...I dont know...but the fact that he was standing there acting like Cock of the Rock or something just blew me away. Sorry to say folks that at this point in time I sort of went off manual and straight into auto pilot...and this is where the fun really began.

I sort of meandered on over to ex-boyfriend...like I wasnt really paying attention to him but wanted a different point of view of the circus show going on. When I managed to get right up near him I realized at 5'3" he pretty much towered over me. Had to be at least 6' tall. I considered that for about a second before I did a roundhouse swing and punched him full force in the nose...gave it everything I had..and then some.

He immediately grabbed his nose while blood started pouring out between his fingers. Suddenly everyone stopped focusing on the drama queen and gave us their undivided attention. At this point ex-boyfriend decided retreat was the better option and made for his car. For some reason...dont ask me...Im on auto pilot remember...I decided his car could so with some serious remodeling...and started banging it with my shoe...which I dont remember taking off. Teen daughter joined me and we actually managed to break one of his lights before he sped off into the night....screaming the whole time.

SIL decided things had gotten rather out of hand and a preemptive strike was required to get things back on track...she ordered us all in the car and with a squeal of tires headed for the police station. It was decided (by her) that teen daughter and I should stay in the car while older teen daughter and her went inside and lodged a complaint. Everyone knows that creating a situation that causes the local police's eyes to fall upon you is never a good thing in the best of circumstances...I had assaulted a national..you bet your ass I was staying in the car.

Now teen daughter and I stayed in the car for about 2 hours before I started thinking about getting out of it. I had no idea what was going on inside but kept expecting at least 3 or 4 cops to come charging out and dragging me from the car at any moment. When 2 hours had passed without so much as an update from SIL...I started focusing on other matters...like the fact that I had to pee...and now that I realized I had to...I could think of nothing else. Before too long I was seriously looking out the window in hopes of seeing a nice stand of bushes or something similar...who cares I was in a Muslim country...when you gotta go you gotta go!!! When I absolutely could not help myself any longer I made the decision to go inside the police station on the hunt for a toilet. I had no choice...there wasnt another building around that offered a potential bathroom for passer byes.

I walked into the police station trying to look like the poster child for female innocence. I was directed to a bathroom and spent a bit of time refreshing myself before exiting and making my way back to the front door trying not to cause too many heads to turn...unfortunately all eyes were on me when I came out...and one cop stepped up and directed me towards an office that had SIL and older teen daughter sitting in chairs...along with the Chief of Police...surprisingly nobody looked happy to see me.

*to be continued (sorry this ran on....I love details)

And Now You Know The Rest of The Story

During my school years of 7th through graduation I lived 17 miles outside of town and so had to ride a school bus...along with a bus full of other students scattered outside of Rock Springs. Some of the events that happened on that bus ride everyday could make many many posts all by themselves...we had danger, excitement, boredom, fights, parties....and some heavy duty make out sessions by the more daring among us. Everyday was something new...but everyday was exactly the same in some respects.

Without fail our radio was blasting...to overcome the chaos and disorderly conduct no doubt but I believe our string of bus drivers just liked to pretend we all ceased to exist while the radio was cranking out the latest top 10. The variety of men and women that were signed up to drive our bus was truly a line up of the best and worst society had to offer. I sometimes wonder if our bus had some sort of a curse on it or maybe a bad reputation(turns out it did...lol)...considering nobody viewed driving it as a step up the school bus driving career later...but I digress...

Anyhow, despite our many adventures one thing remained the same...a daily dose of Paul Harvey coming on to quiet us all down and allow us a moment to reflect on "The Rest of the Story".

Anyone that has heard this program knows that the "rest of the story" always involved some well known figure that had some event in their lives that few knew about. During the entire monologue many of us would be trying to figure out who he was referring to based on some of the bits of information he mentioned. Shouts of famous names and possible outcomes were never in short supply. I liked to just sit and listen...and imagine one day Paul Harvey might be speaking about me to a million strong audience who knew all about me because I would be famous...but didnt know this one thing from my life...this one thing that made me human...brought me down to earth and allowed others to share my humanity...such is the life of celebrities that we view them as "above us" ...unreachable and somewhat infallible and iconic....immortal!!!

He had the best stories that never failed to bring smiles and comments of..."I knew thats who it was"...or shouts of...."no way man...thats gotta be a lie...that guy/lady would never do that"...and other such things. We kids apparently knew much more about these people Paul Harvey spoke of then he could ever know...ah the audacity of youth!!!

There are a multitude of bad memories I have of my younger years...memories that involved riding that bus as well (oh the stories) but Paul Harvey was a good one that could be counted on every day to bring a little sanity to an other wise chaotic life...if famous people could be viewed as normal...then our messed up little no account lives could mean something too one day.

The rest of OUR story is what we were striving towards...aiming for...dreaming of no matter what hell we were suffering at that moment. It was just a moment in a story that would and could read out completely different from its beginnings...after all...many of those famous people he spoke of started out pretty much as ordinary citizens who experienced extra ordinary events that changed their lives...that could be anyone of us...and so we dreamed.

I happened to hear by chance that Paul Harvey passed away recently. That brought a moment of sheer sadness...it reminded me of the fact that much of my life has passed me by and my story has never really had a chance to turn into something people might want to hear about on the radio someday...I thought about all my hopes and dreams and how through circumstance and fate...they have been all but forgotten...but then I figured...Im not dead yet...theres always time...as long as your still breathing there is time...so who knows?

A moment of silence for Paul Harvey...an American icon that was able to silence a busload of misfits and troublemakers long enough to allow us to dream of a future with potential.