%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   You never know what you'll find - humor, ramblings, rants, randomness- it's all me! |
This description part is challenging. I never know what I will blog about until I start typing. I do know there will be typos. I don't reread or correct my blog. Otherwise it turns technical instead of my feelings and thoughts. Trust me, on stories and poems I'm a grammaraholic, but this is freedom. Sometimes to keep it from getting too personal, I even turn my head away while I type. Weird, right?. I hope you find this somewhat entertaining, thought-provoking, and humorous.   A little about me. The most important things in my life are family, especially my son, Reese, and my husband, Bruce, my walk with God, and making a positive impact in some way. I am a teacher, currently teaching 6th grade Language Arts. While at times my job can be trying, overall, it is one of the most rewarding passions in my life.   This is my wonderful son, Reese. He is now 20 and and a junior at Oklahoma State University. I may be partial, but he is an exceptional kid with the best heart I've ever known. He makes me laugh, think, and want to be a better person. We are both huge Oklahoma State Cowboy fans - Gooooooo Pokes!  This is Reese's dog, Betty. She shares a name with my mother. Reese named her that because she was beautiful and kind just like his Nanny (my mom). I'm not sure my mom is quite convinced it is a compliment though. Betty is a huge part of our family. She even had her own blog for awhile. Poke around at your leisure and shake your head at some of things that go through mine. I always return reviews/comments, though admittedly, sometimes it does take me awhile depending on what life is serving me at that point. Keeping the faith, Audra  |
| Being an avid television watcher (addict, however you want to phrase it), I'm sad to learn the inevitable has happened. Yes, I know, it has been coming for awhile; I just hadn't prepared myself. The world has officially run out of ideas for tv shows. This became exceedingly clear to me this evening while I aimlessly flipped through the channels. You see, I have to limit the amount of time I allow myself to watch the Investigation Discovery channel. I think that's what it is called - it's the show with all the real life murder and crime shows like: Who the Bleep did I Marry? Iced in Alaska Fatal Frenemies Killer Kids Til Death Do We Part.. You get the idea. I know on some level it confirms my dementedness (according to spell check, that is not a word), but I love them. They do get in my head sometimes though and I begin to think of new shows that I might unfortunately be the unfortunate victim in; such as, Killer Co-workers. So anywayyy, that is why I was flipping channels, because I had exceeded my allotted time of the unbelievable cruelty that may exist in this world. And this, is when I came upon it: Bet on Your Baby. Now to be honest, I have watched this show before, but tonight my random thoughts started exploring the effects of this show. I realized through such wisdom, that it is like Valentine's Day - - Not much good is going to come of it no matter how hard you try or don't try. Here is the premise of the show for you people who have a life on a Saturday night and AREN'T glued to your television and once in awhile maybe even conversing with it. 1. Parents bring their child 3 years or younger to a 'game show'. 2. One of the parents takes said child into a play room that makes Chuckee Cheese look boring. There is a stuffed bear as beg as Arnold Schwarzenegger. Colorful blocks, trains, dolls, punching bags - anything you can think of this "play room" has. 3. The other parent stays with the host and watches the baby/child on a screen. This parent is told a task the child will 'attempt'. It is up to this parent to 'bet' whether his/her child can complete the task. 4. If correct, they will win $5000 dollars for a college fund and a chance to proceed to the next round to display their lack of forethought and common sense. Babies are cute; there is no denying that. Okay - they aren't ALL cute, but stick with me here. Beyond that, this show is the worst idea since sour spray candy (What lame company can't even be bothered to put the ingredients into a solid form of some shape?) First of all, it never fails - when deciding which way to vote the parent looks to the audience for advice. How well could they know your child? And do they really care if you win? They have nothing invested in this. Plus, I just don't think it's the best idea to encourage a few hundred strangers to pay that much attention to your child on a spy cam. Next, I find myself thinking about the ride home. It's going to go something like this: Mom: I can't believe you thought Elijah could stack 6 oreos without tasting one! Dad: How was I supposed to know? He stacks blocks all the time. Mom: Well, if you would spend more time with him than playing golf, you would know he begs for Oreos all the time! Dad: Maybe that's because you will only allow him gluten free snacks. He's starved for real food. Mom: So once again, everything is MY fault. How convenient! You know it is YOUR sperm that made him; I didn't even want to have sex the night he was conceived! Dad (eye roll): No kidding? I would never have guessed. Or fast forward about 15 years. The issue of college is just around the bend for these cute bobble heads. I mean babies. Mariah (former baby contestant):.. You know, MOM, this is your fault. If you would have had faith that I could jump over three squares without being distracted, I wouldn't even have to work to help pay for college! You've never had faith in me, Never! How am I supposed to have self-confidence, when you don't even think I can jump! But you know what, I did! I jumped those three squares. It wasn't easy but I did it. And how do I get repaid - by getting NOTHING! Thanks for . . . . NOTHING, MOM! or Jaxson (former baby contestant): You've always expected too much from me, Dad. Aren't we supposed to learn from our mistakes? I've never been allowed to be a kid. Even on that dumb game show, you put so much pressure on me. I tried to keep the balloon in the air for 90 seconds, I did try. But I had just downed a bottle of apple juice, and you know the effect it has on me. No, I'm not making excuses, I'm just saying, why can't I ever be good enough for you, Dad? Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, (Me? Never!), but I'm thinking someone in this family is going to end up needing counseling. Tonight was horrible. They had triplets! All three had to unroll their own roll of toilet paper in 90 seconds. Well, the first 2 they were done in 45 seconds flat, but poor poor Tyler. He didn't want to play with toilet paper; he wanted to ride the stuffed lion. Plus, he had no toilet paper unrolling form. He kept looking at his dad like, toilet paper, really? OMG - but in the last 2 seconds he finished it. Can you imagine if he hadn't? His own siblings would have bullied him because they didn't have money for college and had to do manual labor at minimum wage for the rest of their lives.. On that note, is this what it has come to for a 'higher education'? Kids in diapers doing things they would get in trouble for doing at home for college money. I thought that's why we pressured them in high school to find their niche in hopes of a college scholarship. Just kidding to those of you I just offended. Even though you are probably the ones I was directed that at. :) (Little smiley faces make any politically incorrect statements okay). I may be crazy, but I'd rather bet on the horses than my baby (well, I don't have one anymore - unless a 17 year-old still counts and even then he wouldn't make it through the Oreo challenge). At least the horses can't guilt me for the rest of my life. Plus, you always bet on the horses to win, you don't get the option to say, "Well, he's kind of a slacker in the bouncing a ball area. I'm going to put my money on not doing it." So . . . back to Investigation Discovery Channel. I hope it's not a repeat. Looking out for our youth - lol, Audra |
| I like Facebook, I do. It has reconnected me to some great people in my life. It has entertained me when I needed the freedom of not having to think deeply. Occasionally, it has provided a quote or insight that touched me that I promised myself I would remember (but most the time don't). I've learned things, like: there are 25 uses for dryer sheets, lavender oil can do anything, and none of the world has understood how to use aluminum foil despite the directions on the box. But once in awhile (okay, every time I sign on), I find myself asking people (in my head of course) "What were you thinking?" or "Surely, someone has hacked your Facebook". First of all, if you are posting updates more than three times a day, you are seriously delusional about how interesting you are to people. Maybe, it's just me, but I'm lucky if I have 3 post worthy events in a month. Next, game requests - I'm an adult; I can make that decision all by myself. No matter how many requests you send me, I'm not playing candy crush or grown up Dungeon and Dragons. Now, SongPop, that's a completely different story! Please, don't get me wrong. I know I have posted stupid things even without the assistance of alcohol, but it is not a continual habit. I think the next reality show will be Facebook Intervention - No One Cares! Don't even get me started on grammar, and it's not because I'm an English teacher. It's because I'm an adult, and one goal in our lives is to not demonstrate to the world we don't know how to spell one syllable words or understand the difference between your and you're. I gave myself five minutes to scroll through and find messages that might prove my points. Here they are: 1. Excitement was bountiful last night at the in-laws house. This was accompanied by a shirtless man in bed with two dogs. It didn't peak my curiosity; it made me glad I don't have in-laws. 2. De jongste headbangers die je vandaag zult zien! I don't even know what language this is much less what it means. 3. Thanks for nothin'! Is this like one step above talking behind someone's back? I'm pretty sure it wasn't directed at me since I haven't seen this person in 20 years. But seriously, could you not send a text? Because at this point you look pissed off and chickenshit. 4. Let the disinfecting begin..... This is a house I really want to visit? You have to post when you are disinfecting? yum 5. Don't axe me nothin'! Your English teachers must be so proud. 6. Happy Veteran's Day to all! Do you own a calendar? 7. Found it! Oh good, we can all stop looking for your common sense now. 8. Ohhh looky comes in bigger version No idea what they are talking about, but a part of me is happy for them. 9. Zoo Time!!!- First, in no way do I find the zoo worthy of three exclamation marks, and all the pictures, really? It's not like animals have changed their spots or stripes. 10. Is there a nice soul in the town of _______, that could buy and bring me a Pepsi. I'm broke. Hmmmm... you can afford internet, but not a Pepsi? Oh, I know broke, trust me. But I'm not going to throw it out there for the world to see. 11. Home from the store. - Whew, that was a close call. Congrats! Don't even get me started on the quizzes. What kind of animal would I be? What adjective describes me? Who was I in a past life? Actually, don't get me started on them, because I freakin' love them! Bottom line: It's my fault. It's not like I'm being forced to read their posts, but it's like a Nascar accident, you can't help but look. I could thin out my friend list to say people I actually know, remember, or care about, but seriously, who only wants 8 friends on Facebook? Going to eat a popscicle now - yum! Audra |
| Preface to this 'blog': I wanted to get back into writing, and I figured blogging was a good way. I asked a friend to send me a daily prompt for a while so I felt motivated and 'accountable'. Apparently, he is a much deeper thinker, than I am. But hey, a challenge is a challenge - so here I go. Prompt: You have been cut off at the knees, kicked in the ribs, griped at, cussed out, and feel invisible to the world but as you distance yourself from the chaos, you feel so grateful for. . . Okay, so one thing at a time: 1. Cut off at the knees? Quite frankly, I'm going to be plain old pissed at that one. I got both knees replaced several years ago, and now someone is just going to cut them off? Are they going to pay me for them? Because, those suckers weren't cheap! 2. Kicked in the ribs? What the hell? I still have stitches from my hysterectomy last month and now you are going to kick me there? Is this some kind of sadist? At some point here, I'm going to have to punch you in the throat; I'm only nice for so long. 3. Griped at and cussed out kind of go together. I can handle it - I've worked for someone for 10 years that does that basically when she says hello in the morning. Not that I turn a deaf ear, but eventually though I still take it personally some where along the line I either got immune to it or started believing it. I'm not sure 4. Invisible to the world? Are you kidding? This is a goal of mine. lol. But I do get what you mean. I guess if NOBODY knew I was there it would be a little distressing. 5. Distancing myself from the chaos would include one or all of the following: wine (or any alcohol except vodka or blue drinks - bad bad memories there), a bath, and/or a Xanax. 6. Which brings us to what I feel so grateful for. My first thought is wine, a bath, and Xanax. But I do realize there is more so I'm going to have to make a sublist to this first numbered list. A. My son - obviously - I can't even begin to say everything I feel about him - plus he left on a plane to see his dad today which is hard on me so I refuse to write everything I love about him right now so that I don't start crying again. B. Prayer - I'm thankful for prayer - though admittedly, I'm not that great at it, and don't do it like I should. I used to all the time; I don't know what it is - the inability to let go of control, feeling unworthy, fear . . . I don't know. It's not lack of faith, because I do believe in the power and necessity of prayer. C. Family and true friends - I don't think many of us see our family and friends as much as we should or even want to, but there is such a level of comfort knowing that they are there. Now, I'm not a person that can easily ask for help when I need it so that's not really my point. But it is refreshing, even exhilarating to have people to make memories with, share laughter, create stories that make you smile without knowing it. D. I paused here because there really is so much: a job I enjoy - most the time, coffee when someone else makes it, finding something I've lost, writing, being able to make people laugh or at least fake a smile, pets - to a degree lol, being able to bs my way through things I don't know about, I would be thankful for a clean house but that rarely happens, the internet, miracles, (these are in no particular order by the way), a good night's sleep, laughing until I cry, air conditioning - definitely air conditioning, and really good nachos. I know there is more and it depends on the day, but writing this has made me realize that even on those days that I do want to be invisible because quite frankly I feel that life sucks - even during that pity party - in my mind and heart I do know how truly blessed I am. Though, it might not stop me from drinking straight out of the wine bottle because I'm stubborn and at that moment feel I'm entitled to feel sorry for myself, it keeps a part of me balanced (I'm not sure I even know what that means). In retrospect, I think it means if I weren't so damned stubborn and reached out to the things on my grateful list, I wouldn't need the wine, bath, or Xanax. Wait, I'd still need a bath - I mean come on, it's a part of life - good hygiene has got to be in the top 10 priorities. So there you go - kick me in the ribs and I'll get tipsy and clean until I learn to open up and accept what I've been blessed with. Happy Sunday, Audra |
I know it's hard to believe, right? I'm actually NOT Superwoman? Dang, now what do I do with these capes and tights? And my nemesis proved it to me - WALMART. You don't have to read far into my blog to understand the contemptuous relationship this particular store and I have. Here is how my downfall took place: Background Information I had a total hysterectomy with the removal of an ovarian cyst the size of a man's fist, which honestly is kind of vague to me - fists range in sizes - Mr. Magoo would have a small fist while Mr. T would - never mind I don't even want to think about that inside of me. Plus, I was sick the month before that, because about a kajillion doctors couldn't find anything wrong with me. Most said it must be a pulled muscle - That's got to be the new go-to phrase that means 'I'm clueless'. I tried to convince them since it felt like aliens were having rough sex in my abdomen while occasionally taking breaks to feast on parts inside of me. That description might have backfired; I'm pretty sure that led to one doctor accusing me of being a drug seeker. I didn't really help the cause by replying, "Hell, yes! Yes, I'm seeking drugs. Did you not hear me? I have a dominatrix alien getting her kicks in my ABDOMEN!" I didn't get to see that doctor anymore; he kind of slinked away. But they didn't send me to the psych ward, so on some level I try to be thankful. The event of my demise Well, it has been 2 1/2 weeks since the surgery. People have been great - bringing me dinner, checking on me, etc. But no matter how much someone loves you, you just can't ask any one to face Walmart for you. That would be the end of any relationship. I mean I'd do it for some people, but then I would consider myself like almost up to Guardian Angel status. But seriously, you can't say, "Could you pick me up some printer ink. Oh and see if the good toilet paper is on sale. And you know since you're there, just go down each aisle and if you think I might need, or more probably just want, it - throw it the basket. Thanks you're the best." As I'm leaving, my son says, "Mom, please don't do too much." Which in retrospect, I realize is a stupid phrase. Think about it - how do you know what too much is until you've done it? People who eat a whole supreme pizza by themselves don't know it was too much, until they are emptying their onions and olives into the toilet. You don't realize chopping wood (I've never actually done this - I'm just speculating) is too much until you are on the ground screaming from pain in your back and numbness in your arms. I do know what too much of Wal-Mart is now. It is when you are 1/2 way done in the middle of the store and nausea, faintness, pain, and a strong desire to sit down overcomes you. So I search for a place to sit down while I begin to sweat. Not beads of sweat, but more like bodily rivers of sweat. I see the shoe department - they have to have those little aisle benches to try on shoes and measure your feet, right? Nope, when you are at Wal-Mart you better know the size of your feet. So, I'm not a proud woman, I'm a desperate one. Surely, in the furniture department something is put together I can sit on. I know it's probably against a sacred Wal-Mart rule, but honestly I don't care about rules at this point. But alas, the only furniture put together was a 3 shelf cabinet. Shazam! Customer Service! They have to have seats. They do! But it looks like everyone in Midwest City decided Walmart was the best place to escape the rain. Don't worry; I finally found a place. And that's when it hits me - I am not Super Woman. Walmart combined with surgery has defeated me. I try to look for the loop hole for a way I can convince myself that I am Super Woman. But let's face it, Super Woman would never be so desperate for a reprieve to sit on a toilet just to rest not to do her business. I sat until I quit sweating and thinking that maybe a ride in an ambulance would be comfortable. Eventually, I regained some composure. Washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror. I was right - no Super Woman. I thought "I'm just a normal human." But! Then I had a flashback from earlier times in my life, and I realized I'm actually an alien. No, no - not the kind from another country. A green, shiny costume alien - how could I have forgotten this? But that story is for another day. Defeated by Walmart yet again, Audra! |
| May I ask you a quick question? Have you heard of the book by Padgett Powell "The Interrogative Mood"? Can you believe all 164 pages consist of questions? Who would have even thought to do that? Isn't it brilliant? Why did someone make up the saying that there is no such thing as a stupid question? 'Are we going to write on the writing test?' Isn't that a stupid one? How do you define stupid? Do horses and cattle get along? Cattle or cows? Why does every English rule have an exception? Are we afraid of being decisive? Was it a compromise? Why does compromise have the word promise in it? Am I giving an oath that I'll give in a little? Why is it so hard for me not to be obstinate? Do you think dreams reflect on your personality? Do you think bipolar has become a catch phrase instead of the intended diagnosis? Does fish oil come from fish? What part of the fish? Fish from the ocean or pond? Could I really be anything I wanted to be or do people just say that to make you feel good? Why does it take so long to clean but so little time to dirty it up? What if I were reincarnated as a coffee cup with a fear of kitchen appliances? Or a casket? Do caskets dread being buried alive? Why must we whisper at funerals? Shouldn't I be allowed to stand up and say "I love this person! I can't imagine breathing without them in my life!'? Who decides what is disrespectful? Should I not tell my students when they smell less than desirable? Do any bridges really burn? Where is the Olympics for regular non-high achieving people? Who thinks about you during the day? or night? Why do we require kids to give presentations at school but yet punish them for talking during class? Is this an example of irony? Or am I way off? If your mind was a landscape would it be polluted? Are we more intelligent than early man? Or more self-involved? Why does everyone's accent disappear when they sing? Why did Olivia Newton John sing Let's Get Physical? Did no one ever tell her to stop while she's ahead? Why do I go in my shell when someone else is hurting? Why do we worry that there is a "right" thing to say? Shouldn't just saying something count? Do mustard and ketchup gang up on mayonnaise? Have you taken your Christmas tree down? Did you put tinsel on it? Are you still finding it in places? When was the last time you mailed a real letter? Did they answer you? Do you worry more about your health or someone you love's? Why are you still reading this? Is bullying a bigger problem now or do we just have the media to hear more about it? Are the sun and moon friends? Why does milk seem to last longer in my house than cereal? If my paycheck were bigger would I save money or just have more to spend? Do doctors put off going to the doctor? What about dentists!? Or the gynecologist? What if monkeys really prefer strawberries and it's just that no one has offered them to them? Can animals be allergic to foods? So, what do you think? Audra |
| Let me set the scene for you: I moved to the town I teach in this year - Jones, Oklahoma population 1900. Obviously, a rural town. But I don't live in the country or a farm. In fact I live right off Main Street. Well, I look out the kitchen window this morning at my backyard. And there I see it. A dead possum, with Betty (the dog, not my mom - they share a name) doing a happy dance around it. I might have said a cuss word - it's a blur. I open the door and Betty comes running in the house toward me thinking she's going to jump up and lick my face - WRONG! Apparently, the teacher stare works on animals too; she sulks off to her bed, otherwise known as the couch. Here's the thing - I've already had to do this once this summer. But it was a baby possum. I mean I still cried that I had to do it and let the world know life wasn't fair and Audra Ralls was not supposed to be the one to have to dispose of dead animals, but there isn't much choice when your son isn't home. So, I prepare slowly to face this disaster that has befallen my backyard. I put on work gloves, which if you know me at all, is surprising that I even own a pair. I'm sure I got them as a gag gift at some family Christmas. Grab for a trashbag, and this is when the anger overwhelms me. It's my last trash bag. You might think this is a small thing, BUT earlier this summer I had a trash bag incident and I came up with the idea that if they would make the last five trashbags a different color, we would be warned that we were almost out, thus doing away with the unwelcome surprise. My only Genius moment in life. But nooooo, after I wrote Hefty (yes, I really did it - it's summer what else have I got to do), they wrote back that they can't take unsolicited ideas. So solicit it; I don't see the problem. I wasn't asking for money for the idea, I just wanted colored trash bags. Anyway, I digress. i get the last bag. Last time I put bleach in the bag - i'm not sure why, I just did. Well, I'm out of Bleach because I had to shock the pool with it. The closest I could come was toilet bowl cleaner. I go into the garage to get my shovel (I call it my shovel, but it was left in the garage when i bought the house, and my snow shovel - Another thing I don't even know why I own. We don't get snow, if anything we get ice. Truthfully, I think I bought it once thinking it was a real shovel. I tell you, I'm not the outdoorsy, fix-it, tool toting type. I begin to walk to the backyard when the thought occurs to me. What if this possum is playing possum? I would say this is when I started to cry, but that would be a lie. I started crying long before this point. I peek over towards the roadkill and am sort of relieved to see flies buzzing around it. I've got to think this through. Any misstep could result in heart failure or months of therapy. I open the gate so I won't have to worry about that. It's trash day (thank you, God for this), so I take the trash to the road, and open one of the lids. I know throwing animal carcasses in the trash is probably against some law, but at least in prison I don't have to remove overgrown rats. It's time to face the possum. . . .dum dum dum. And my cell phone rings. It's Reese, my son. Hi, Mom. Boo, I can't talk right now I'm taking care of something. It can wait. I'm having the best time with Dad and Barb (step-mom). We just got to Mount Rushmore. That's great. Reese, I'll call you back in a couple of minutes. (God willing) But Mom . . . . Look Reese, Betty killed another possum but this is a big one. I need to get rid of it and you know how i feel about these things. Are you crying? Yes. Okay. Is Betty okay? Is she going to get rabies? You didn't scold her, did you? Your concern is overwhelming. I'll call you back. Love you. MOM, she is okay, RIGHT? I don't know how to really explain this next part - the picking up of the possum. I was using the shovels kind of like salad tongs, that only accomplished me gagging as the innards (yes, mr. science I know they have a more correct term - but here they are innards) fell out. It was too heavy for the snow shovel, and too big for the regular shovel. I"m not sure, I think I ended up putting the shovel shovel blade under the snow shovel scoop so there was more weight to hold it and scooping up as much of it as I could with it. As I dropped it in the trash bag, the flies swarmed me in anger, I could swear his tail twitched, and some of the innards landed on my shoe. The shoe that is now in the trash can. This is early in the morning, so I'm not worried about seeing anyone.I'm walking with my eyes closed to the trash can, because somehow that makes it seem not so real. And then it happens! I hear, "Ms. Ralls, Ms. Ralls!" and the pounding of feet coming towards me with arms outstretched. You wouldn't think middle school boys would hug their teachers, but they do especially when you haven't seen them in awhile. As I scream NOOOOO, two thoughts collide in my mind - I can't let them make me drop the trash bag and oh my gosh, i haven't put on a bra yet. (give me a break, it's early - i had just gotten up - okay, i'm lazy). Instinctively though not intelligently, I raise the trash bag to cover my . . . hmmm. . bust. That's when I feel the weight of the possum against my stomach. The boys talked. I've no idea what they were saying to me. Even my glasses fogged with tears didn't clue them in to the fact that this was a bad time. Eventually, I squeaked out - you boys get out of here, I have to see you enough in a couple of weeks - jokingly. Why couldn't they have been there 10 minutes earlier? They could have done possum duty. I put the bag in the trash can. As I walk back to the house, I find myself wondering how much time will have to pass until I see the humor in this event. The boys yell from down the street. "Hey, Ms. Ralls - TGIF!" Thank God it's Friday my ass! That's the way we roll, audra |
| So I bought a house at Christmas time. Love it! The backyard has a pool with a surrounding deck and plenty of running room for Betty (my son's dog and best friend). The slight problem is/was the former owners did not put a cover on the pool during the off season. I really wasn't that concerned because I did read some people do this. Well, after a rough tornado and hail season, here comes summer! Time to get the pool ready. I'm a country girl - i've never had a pool -- you don't need one when you have a pond lol. Well, that's what my dad told us. So not knowing where to start, I took my manuals to the pool store with a perky smile and a gungho attitude and said, "Hi, here's what I have (showing the manuals). It reads greek to me. Could you help me get started?" I swear to you the guy put his head in his arms on the counter and said, "Ugh, people like you drive me crazy." My first urge was to slap him hard enough that he would qualify for workman's comp. But I couldn't go to jail - i had a pool to set up! So I left. Customer service is a make it or break it kind of thing for me. I called the former owners of the house/pool (I work with one of them so we are "friends" - well, work friends") seeking advice. They offered to come over and help me get it ready. Usually, I hate asking for help but I was desperate. They never showed. Finally, on facebook I see a student of mine's parents work on pools for a living. So I messaged her - and things were looking bright. For about 2 minutes. She instructed me to plug it in. I did. Nothing happened. I've got to shorten this, no one reads blogs this long. 1. Electric outlet needs replacing 2. Pool motor needs replacing - thanks to a flood we had 3. Extension cord needs replacing 4. Cleaning pole needs replacing - i bent it because the net was so heavy with muck and algae 5. I'M TELLING YOU IT LOOKED LIKE A POND - in fact at one point I swear I thought I saw a fish jump up. 6. Endless amounts of bleach - I literally bought two stores of it out. 7. New pressure dial 8. Missing cap to replace on filter drain - 2 trips to a different pool store before i got the right one despite bringing pictures and numbers of the type of filter 9. The left me a great vacuum with 3 different parts missing from it - trip to yet another pool store - parts must be ordered - a week later I called - oh yeah they are here - drive 30 minutes to get them - only one is there - ACCCCCK 10. Oh I forgot the part of when I finally stepped into the "pond" to scrape the bottom - there was so much gunk and algae I slipped and went all the way under. 11. Of course, through this - more chemical and more chemicals - stung by a wasp twice! Apparently, they think they are calling my deck their home. 12. Cotton trees (which I didn't even know I had) are spewing cotton continually plugging up the filters. Anyone wanna cut down a tree for me? I'm sure there is more because this has been a month process but today - blessed day - i could almost, if i stared really hard with my fingers crossed and prayer lifted to the Lord - could see the bottom of my POOL which I have named Paradise. That pond it fought me hard - tested my physical strength, my perseverance, overall not love of the outdoors or physical labor, and of course pocketbook, fear of wasps and all things icky - but as of this morning I'm calling myself the victor. Okay, okay - I'm realistic - I know I've just one this battle and the war is not over, but let me enjoy this moment. Tomorrow it may be something else but for today I own a house with a Paradise. Swimmingly yours, Audra |
| I came across this Blog Prompt as I was cleaning out the last few months of emails and it made me think a little so I thought Hey, why not write a little too. Did you grow up to be who you always wanted to be as a child? My first reaction was to laugh and then I was a tad sad for a minute, but then I thought a little deeper (I guess) and I realized I have pretty much become the person I wanted to be as a child. This does take some clarifying though: Occupation: Since I was about 10 years old, I said I wanted to be a psychologist or psychiatrist. Well, I'm a teacher, but I do have a psychology degree. And while I don't make a psychiatrist salary I see plenty of patients/students a day. Family: I can remember being tucked in to bed with my eyes closed saying my prayers. Every night it would end with Please let me live long enough to be a mom. In Jesus name, Amen. In my eyes then, though I didn't communicate it, I pictured the whole package of husband and kid/kids. Well, sometimes it doesn't work out that way. While at first I felt like I had failed and was in a way embarrassed to be divorced, I no longer feel that way. I am a mom to a wonderful son and he, his dad, and I are all happy, we just don't all share the same house. But really the prompt doesn't say am i WHAT I thought I would be but am I WHO i thought i would be. Most days I think I am. I work hard to do the best job I can in whatever I do. I keep God close in my heart and hopefully my actions. I lend a helping hand/ear when I can. And I hope in some way I leave this world a little better place. Hmmm . . . So did I really want to blog or am I just procrastinating cleaning the kitchen? Probably both. Good to back! Ralls on Summer Break |
| No, I'm not going into deep philosophy here. I seriously am just proud that I put my new bed together without any injuries which required immediate doctor attention. I know now where the phrase "you've made your bed, now lie in it" comes from. Hell, I'm so tired from making it, all i can do is lie in it. It's odd that something so heavy, cumbersome, and awkward when it's in pieces turns into something so refreshing and comfortable. that is if you get said pieces in all the right places, which I may or may not have on the first try. I refrain from revealing. Sweet Dreams, Audra |
If your good deed for the day involves putting cream on someone's rash, you might want to reconsider how important being good is to you. I know I am. Enough said. Audra
|
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
Pro Toilets 
