Have You Received This?

I guess this is when my inlaws stopped REALLY talking to me. Small talk and business is still okay, but not much past that.

So, I get this email:

Written by a housewife from New Jersey and sounds like it! This isone pissed off lady."Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it notstartedby Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001 ?
Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutallymurdered that day, in downtown Manhattan , across the Potomacfrom our nation's capitol and in a field in Pennsylvania ? Did nearlythree thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning orcrushingdeath that day, or didn't they?And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated"when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet?...Well,Idon't. I don't care at all.I'll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents forincinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East startcaringabout the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in SaudaArabia.I'll care when these thugs tell the world they are sorry for hacking offNick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling slashedthroat.I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out andfight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding inmosques.I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search ofnirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicidebombs.I'll care when the American media stops pre tending that their FirstAmendment liberties are somehow derived from international law insteadofthe United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughingup an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this: I don't care.When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who havebeenhumiliated in what amounts to a college-hazing incident, rest assured:Idon't care.When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told nottomove because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank: Idon't care.When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat,andfed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complainingthathis holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in yourheart of hearts : I don't care.And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" andother times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and -you guessed it -I don'tcare ! ! ! ! !If you agree with this viewpoint, pass this on to all your e-mailfriends.Sooner or later, it'll get to the people responsible for this ridiculousbehavior!If you don't agree, then by all means hit the delete button. Should youchoose the latter, then please don't complain when more atrocitiescommitted by radical Muslims happen here in our great country! And may Iadd: "Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made adifference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem." --Ronald ReaganI have another quote that I would like to add AND.......I hope youforward all this. "If we ever forget that we're One Nation Under God,then we will be a nation gone under." also by.. Ronald Reagan One lastthought for the day: In case we find ourselves starting to believe allthe anti-Americansentiment and negativity, we should remember England 's Prime MinisterTony Blair's words during a recent interview. When asked by one of hisParliament members why he believes so much in America , he said:"A simple way to take measure of a country is to look at how many wantin... And how many want out."Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you:1. Jesus Christ2. The American G. I.One died for your soul, the other for your freedom.

Yes, I am adding one....a child in an elementary school was eating a ham sandwich in the cafeteria at a table with Muslems...He was suspended because they (Muslems) do not eat portk. How ridiculous is that?



That last commentary was from one of my in-laws.....

And here's what I wrote back to each of them:

Sorry- I find it hard to believe that the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ would think it was perfectly fine to strip and stack (or rectally penetrate with a pencil) other human beings because they were Muslims.

I guess it's just silly me.....

And that, your honor, is when I noticed their level of conversation drop off.....drastically.

Deep Breaths

Well, I am coming down from a long day of chaos. Everything just went wrong. I dropped things, broke my favorite Mom mug (from my daughter), forgot things, gopt behind, etc. You know that kind of day.

I am looking forward to Friday. I have tix to see Barack Obama speak at Union Station Friday afternoon. I am really excited, and it's seems I share my enthusiasm with my pastor.

Yes, I have a pastor. Who would have thought? Just before I was smacked with my mother's diagnosis, I went back to St. Mark's. I wanted to go back- it had been a year since I had visited.

Well, let me start from the beginning. I would not, for the last twenty years or so, have described myself as Christian. Far from it, actually. Then, I saw the StillSpeaking commercials. And then, this one. It peaked my curiosity. So, I found my local UCC church and dragged my daughter one morning, while my mother watched my boys.

Maddie and I walked in cautiously, overly suspicious of Christians and their motives. Like homophobes are of gays- it's all about conversion, right?

Miss Betty walked up and her smile lit the room. she said, "Hello!" and hugged us. Maddie and I would normally be creeped out, we smiled and hugged her back. I am shocked still to this day, but I can tell you why we didn't run. Trust me, I have questioned this a billion times- she was genuine. A whole roomful of genuine people. I have never seen such a thing. These warm, true followers do not give a damn about your sins- let's just welcome you and get to know you.

We were just bursting to tell everyone we knew that there really was a place like this. It's real. And in Jeff county, no less.

So, a few months ago, early July maybe, before my mother's diagnosis, I went back. I went with my friend Carolyn, and the weirdest thing happened. First, I puddled up, because I finally believed in something bigger than myslef again. But, here's the part that almost made my spit my ovaries onto the floor. We line up to shake the pastor's hand as we exit. I shake, and say, "Nice to meet you." He said, "We met last year. Good to see you again, Amy."

So, we go just about every week now as a family. The church is pretty small, about 100, maybe a bit more, and they are rather commited to humanity. For example, the church down the street has a gym, and a cafe, and indoor track, an arcade, several meeting rooms, a conference area. My friend and I went to walk the track one day. she says, "see. I want to belong to a church like this, that has things to do for our family. " I said, "That's not what I believe a church should be about. Look at this building. It probably cost $750,000. Can you imagine how many homeless people could have been fed for a year on that money?"

And my little church takes offerings of food for the pantry every month. We have an extra home that belongs to the church, and we have set it up for a single mother and her son who has cancer. Sometimes we all chip in and buy her a gas card. She just lost her job, and gives us updates on her progress. These are little examples, but I am finding there are helping hands available. The week we became members, even though I couldn't be there, a couple of women cooked for us (meatloaf, roast, potatos, salad, and even a bottle of dressing, and sent it here so I could take a break from cooking!)

And, yes, I still get to have a drink, drop the F-bomb, and be a good person.

Freudian Slippers

Yes, I bought my brother these for his birthday. He laughed his ass off.

I remember my greatest Freudian slip ever. It's another story.

I came close to topping it this morning.

My hub and I had a great night of getting our freak on last night, and this morning as he handed me my coffee, I gave him the big smile. I praised his earth-shattering skills, and he reminded me of a particular point of the evening before.

Do you remember the famous line, back in high school, when you yelled at someone to stop talking shit behind your back? I messed it all up....

I said, and quite loudly I might add "Oh, yeah, HOW ABOUT TONIGHT YOU COME AND DO THAT TO MY FACE?!?!"

So Long, Suckers

The one nice thing about having a lonely blog that no one reads is the complete freedom to mother-fuck your "friends".

I was about to open my address book two days ago and send the following email to everyone in it.

Dear Everyone:

I would like to give a huge thanks to my friends for all of their love and support at this time. Carolyn, Cindy, Hoda, and Amanda- you have really gotten me through this. Really. It's times like this you know who your friends and family really are. It's those four people.

The rest of my "friends" have not even called once a month, or even once a week to find out how I am doing. I am alone every day, cooking and cleaning for my family, watching my mother waste away in between each meal I prepare for her. I am living in a complete nightmare, and not one of my in-laws has dared to reach out to me. I have sat for hours on the phone and in person listening to people talk about how they haven't gotten laid, but when the pain in my heart is so bad that I don't know how I am going to walk through this, those same people haven't taken five minutes in a month to see if I'm breathing. I'm not a perfect person, I have made plenty of mistakes. But, I deserve better than this, and I am so hurt and dissapointed by the people I have known for years. I am living a nightmare, and no one has even offered to hold my hand for a moment except for these four people. Everyone I know is aware of my circumstances and situation.

It's really hard to watch someone you love die. It makes it harder to find yourself suddenly standing alone, to realize that the people you've known for years don't really care about you. It's a double-whammy.

My mother said the same thing. "You know those thirty people we used to have breakfast with on Saturday mornings? Well, you see how many of them have called me. None."

I hear some of these friends of mine wail about why they haven't found the perfect person to share their lives with....maybe this could be a clue.