stupidity

For the longest time she was convinced her name was Stupid, Idiot and Useless. If he was mad, a "God damn" or "fucking" became precursors to these poetic terms of endearment. Shannon was her name given by her mother. Underneath her thick raven black hair were eyes so blue they looked right through you and knew what you were thinking.  Maybe that was what scared him.  .

Her father. He WAS scared too. Shannon's mother had caused him pause with her smirk, her manipulation and those eyes but through years of drunken abuse and insults he had ruined her, made her pliable. Her abilities diminished. He killed her spririt long before he had to ditch her body. Travis  had been a big deal once. He had been feared in school; tall, strong, aggressive and confident. His career and life had been set in small town hero stone. He headed to college with all the back-slapping, loud mouthed, grinning money the recruiters could stuff in his pockets. He finished, then came home where he got his pick of the cheerleaders he'd already known and became a bigwig in town; taking his place as the ever-prom king. He'd drink to that; every night. No one seemed to mind. Hell, he rarely bought a drop. People loved to put it on their tab or on the house so they could talk over the old times and of course his future... right there in town. Oh it was all set and he was happy to live this life. Then he'd met Shannon's mother that night at the alumni game. She had turned his head so fast, he thought he'd gotten whiplash. She had black silk for hair that was cut short and dangled playfully around her face. She had amazing light eyes and a body that begged for attention from a man. "THIS man" he'd thought hungrily and put on his quiet country boy act that worked oh so well.

She was supposed to have been a boy; hence her name: Skyler. So day one set the tone for her short life. Her own father had been distant and aloof.She was the lead in plays, the star in her sports and top of her class. Whatever she touched or tried was wonderful, successful and she did it all in the hopes of seeing a glimmer of approval in her father's eyes. It would have been there brightly shining had she only been born with the correct plumbing. But she was hopeful Travis would be different.

He laughed at her jokes and told her she was pretty in that shy, toe in the dirt way.  That night she'd met him at the game, he'd taken a big swig of his ninth beer (something she wasn't aware of.  It became a joke to her later: "Love potion number nine.")  He was interested, listening to what she had to say and seeming to want to share with her. She let him seduce her but at a snail's pace. He was "about ready to explode" when she let him in to her bed.  She was good at everything but sex. At this, she was amazing. Travis became intoxicated by her body and the way they fit together. She seemed to enjoy it, but really chose to reward him for little thoughtful things and good behavior. It was manipulation on an intimate  but on a  grand scale.  He was already trapped when she announced she was going to have his baby. Skyler thought she had played the right card at the right time, but things began to change.

Not at first. No, it was romantic and sweet at first. Skye thought they just might be happy. It was all that she was looking for. He had finished his business degree, planning to settle at home anyway. He made the best of it and it was good. The baby came and they were cute; all of them.  But love potion number nine became ten  then twelve and an additional thrity every weekend while his words and resentment grew faster than baby Shannon. When Skye disappeared, Shannon waited for the truth to be told but it never happened. That was when she took it into her own hands.

She had been banished to her room once again and gladly so. Love potion number fifteen was taking a firm hold on him.  The slurring and the spitting had begun.

"Whass SIS?" he'd grumped over dinner.

"Pork chops."

"Taste like Hell. You better get good at sumpin else cuz you won't EVER be a chef, Stupid."

She shrugged and cut. The goat cheese and basil with roasted peppers peeked out from between two lightly browned chops. They were perfect. He was drunk.  She hoped dinner would end soon.

"Did you get your work done?"

"Yes."

"Pay da bills you idot?"

"Yes."

He scraped his fork, furious that she had succeeded today. She was as arrogant as her mother. Her eyes glared at him. Laughed at him. She would need to be taught a lesson just like Skyler.

"Laundry? I need my clothes clean. Ann- iss house? Issa shithole. You're useless." he tapped the table absently. The lesson would need to be soon he thought.

"Yes. Your work shirts are ironed and hanging in the closet." She closed her mouth over her fork and enjoyed the cheddar garlic mashed potatoes and the hate that burned on his face. She thought of the chocolate mousse she would not share with him.

He popped open another love potion and took too long of a drink. Foam belched out of the top.
"Aren't you just magnisifent." he sneered.

She shrugged and began to clear the table. "Supper is over." She thought, beginning to plan her evening. She was startled by his hand clamping down hard on her wrist.

"Magnisifent." he incorrectly hissed again.

She stopped and looked down hard. She felt it bubbling up but stymied it. He knew that look and that it would be wise to let her go. She twisted free and turned her head as if she were going to scold him like a child.

"I wouldn't." was all she said heading quietly to her room to read.

It began to get dark and he began to stumble around angrily. Nothing new.  She just had to wait until he passed out. Then she would clean up as she always did,. He shouted at her, whined at her dead mother, broke more glasses or lamps and swiped clear table tops with his wobbly arms.

Shannon sat in her room. Soon it would be better.  She listened at her door, smiling softly to hear his thick snoring. She went to her closet.  Her bag was packed. She had stashed enough money to get her far from town. She was eighteen so the search for her would be limited.  Besides, everyone knew what a son of a bitch Travis was.  They all knew Skye was murdered but without the body, without the blood evidence they had nothing. Shannon did not want to end up like her mother. She wistfully leaned against the window and watched the crescent moon grin at her through the trees. It was time.  She stepped out in to the hall and called to him. Nothing. She wandered down, beginning to clean up.  She swept and straightened.  The last thing she wanted was a scene like a struggle or conflict had occurred.  Then she went to the closet, removing the old kerosene heater. Shame she had forgotten to pay the heating bill. SO careless. The weather had cooled early (to her benefit) so the fire wouldn't seem out of place. The fuel would make sense. They needed the heat. He tripped in a stupor and the spill... well... stupid things happen. Tragedies.  She spilled it just a little and tipped it over. The heater wasn't even full.  Then she approached the passed out man on the couch to drag him over, drape his drunk sorry murderous body in the path of the accelerant and get this show on the road.

But he stirred. He woke. And he was pissed. He took a swing, connecting solidly with the side of her head. The room tilted, clanging like a church bell. Shannon reeled back, quickly trying to recover, scramble away. Travis charged at her, the two tumbling backwards. He sat above her, enfolding her narrow neck in his chumky rough hands, squeezing, panting above her as he had Skye. Shannon kicked and scratched. Her eyes getting hot, bulging out.  He thumped her head on the rug.  She lost consciousness. He checked and found a pulse though weak. "Dammit" he muttered, getting up. He pulled his suitcase and the money he'd found. He added it to his own stash hidden in the back of the cupboard.  He looked at the last of the supper dishes; a wonderful meal of delicious pork chops stuffed with cheese and herbs.  She would have made a wonderful chef. If she hadn't been so stupid, he would have simply let her go. Her mother had been just as dumb. And so they had been justly rewarded.

He collected his future and leaning in the doorway, struck a match to destroyed his past. Travis walked away letting his daughter's handiwork claim her. He patted his travel plans and turned carelessly away

"See ya Stupid."

The smoke was heavy and the fire began to spread quickly.  Shannon wasn't sure she had the strength to get up, but hate is a powerful motivator.  Crawling out the back, she let it burn. Through the roar of the flames, she heard the firetrucks. They were a little earlier than she'd have hoped but it didn't matter.  Stupid had found the plane ticket, discovered his luggage and the wad of money in the kitchen. Useless had put it all together, understanding it had become a simple race to destruction. The idiot had called the police and enlisted their help. They were going to pull him over soon.

Stupidity is relative.



Not my favorite but not too bad all things considered. I wanted to do something else with this but just couldn't make it work.  Sometimes I just have to let them go and move on. I am glad to see you nonetheless. We'll giggle and point at this one. Stuck with Hurricane Sandy and the perfect storm. Thanks for all the concerned/well wishes. See you soon. Keep dry. :)

Riding out the storm. So far, so good. We've got a couple of generators, water, candles, flashlights, games, and enough food to feed an army. The toddlers are freaking out, refusing to let me out of their sight. Birdie insists on hiding under everything, peering suspiciouly from under blankets, furniture... you name it. And Winston just looks out the window, leaves a fresh nose print and implores me with those eyes to make it less scary outside. Poor buddy. It's starting to get more aggressive here. We are getting pelted pretty good with rain and the wind is definitely howling but no ark yet. It's supposed to hit land soon. Then the fun really starts.

Thank you all for checking up on me.  Your texts and emails have been hilarious and soothing. My hope is that we keep power.  For those of you locally along for the ride, be safe, keep in touch. For all my "outer" pals, I'll be sure to let you know what's going on. No worries. 

Love and dry hugs.

Tess

An instant

My daughter and I have it pretty good, all things considered. I fuss over her and she rolls her eyes or gives me the "Mooooooom!" with an exasperated swat, but we usually smile and know... it's not too bad between us. She is convinced I'm running her life and I'm pretty sure she's right. We've had a tough go of it lately with boys and school and ... the life and drama of a teen. I can hear you sighing and nodding. But today? It wasn't fun. It wasn't cute.

My daughter and I went for a run (she is training for her swim team and I am just out there) and took a different route this morning. We were on our way back, having a small stretch of a "busier" road before ducking back into our usual more comfortable neighborhood.

The woman in the silver car didn't stop at the side street before turning left, never even looked. She didn't see the other car until she was at his passenger door. The black car, on the main road, juked to get out of the way but was unable. She nailed him good.  There was that sound; you know? The one where metal crunches and rattles the fillings in your teeth? Fiberglass pops and cracks and gives you that rush of an itch/tingle that makes you shudder? Well, she hit him so hard she spun him. As he came around, trying to regain, he overcompensated and headed right for us. Me and my daughter.

 I saw it coming and began to run to get out of its path. I was calling her. "C'mon Maddie." I yelled, glancing over my shoulder thinking she would be right there. That's where she WAS. Right there. Right beside me,  but now she wasn't.  My daughter froze. She was just watching it as if it were a tv show. I saw this car sliding toward us; a screaming hulk of stinky rubber and leaking fluids. I turned to grab her, yelling louder "MADDIE". She tripped and fell. The car kept coming. I ran back to her, picked her up and dragged/carried her. "HURRY MADDIE! WE'VE GOTTA MOOOOVE!"

I can tell you that I have never been so frightened for my baby girl. I don't want to ever feel that way again. There was a tightness in my gut and a panic that just consumed me. I know what I did, I carried my daughter out of the way. But I don't remember doing it and when I DO try to recall, I get foggy and want to cry or throw up.  I saw the black car and can tell you everything about it. What it looked like, that there was a shiny silver grill that looked like an angry mouth. The hood was a little sun faded with a crease down the length and the driver was young.  I think he wanted to scream when he saw us; really saw us. I felt small in front of that car; small and frail.  I think I've been through a box of tissues just writing this. We couldn't stop holding each other.

"I'm sorry Honey. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought you were with me. Right there with me."

"Mom. I froze. I just waited for it to move away. I couldn't move Mom. It was so fast and slow at the same time."

More tears. Then and now.

The black car stopped and he got out. A kid. "Holy shit! Are you okay? She never stopped! She never fucking stopped. Oh my GOD Are you all right?"

I assured him we were. We all waited for the police. We spoke and then my daughter and I walked home. No great pace, no try outs or waistlines to worry about; just holding hands. I cried terrified relieved tears. She hugged me as tight as she could and told me she was okay. When we got home, she went to her room and quietly closed the door.

But I keep checking on her. My mind has tried to repaint it: a broken little girl distorted, twisted under the weight and speed of the car.  My ears strain to hear the slam of her body against the metal; angry mouth~ if I close my eyes I am forced to see what could have been. I don't like that one bit. I reach for her and brush her hair away. She doesn't pull back or roll her eyes. She smiles softly and lets me. I know in a few days we will be back to our roles of teen vs. mom but for now? I need this. I need her to be my baby and I think she wants to.

Hug them. Tell them you love them. It will only take an instant.

Hi Guys.
I'm just getting back from vacation and need a little more time to get my ducks in line. I hope you had a great week. I've gotten to relax and laugh a lot. Can it be better? I submit it can not. Let's try to catch up mmm... I dunno... late this week? I have a ton of catching up to do.

Thanks for all the laughs and well-wishes. It was fabulous.
Warm hugs,
Tess

Well I'm getting ready for a vacation as I said before (much MUCH needed). I can't wait to spoil myself a little with some wonderful friends in a foreign place basking in the warm sun. Ahhh life is about to be good. VERY GOOD. But there is always a price to pay. THIS week? I'm running like a maniac both at work and at home. My insomnia is working overtime and I have enough bags under my eyes to go to Europe for a month! I'm so tired I could cry.

Monday, I was waiting on some meds and stuff. Instead of sitting around stewing about all the work I would have to do, I came home to accomplish the bulk of the housework piling up on my "to do" list. I knew Cheech was having the same kind of week, so I thought I'd be a super wife and mow the lawn. I finagled my schedule a little and headed out to our little barn to fire up the tractor. God bless Bess.

This tractor and I have a history; spotty at best. There was the time I was driving it and it broke; not just broke... caught FIRE broke. Ooopsie. Then there was the time the  mice built a home in the engine and it broke. They chewed some belts.. Oopsie.( The mice ran over my foot as I fired it up and I screamed like a banshee having anesthesia-free dental work done but that is beside the point.) We do not meld ... Tractor and I; no not normally. Bad things happen.

But today was not a normal day. I went out and stood at the door to the barn, needing to fiddle with the latch to get in. I had a visitor; a really pissed off yellow jacket. He buzzed me, dive bombed my head and threatened me with nasty hovering. Evil hovering.  Of course I hissed and ran away into our woods; whimpering like a wounded pup. I waited until the tears stopped and came over again. Repeat the above actions... TWICE MORE. Each time I had the latch a little more open so at last, I got in and quickly yanked the door shut. I stood there in the dark, mashing the door as if I was trying to keep out a cavalry. My heart was pounding like I'd just pulled off a jewel heist. I waited, foolishly thinking if I was quiet, they wouldn't build a wall of stingers outside the door to ambush me as I emerged. But I couldn't be certain. No I could not. So I cautiously began to clean off the tractor, not wanting to find any mice. (As much as I am afraid of them, I still wouldn't want to grind one up in the motor) Eww. I sat down and pushed the throttle up. I needed this to work for my escape. I turned the key. Bess grumbled but refused to turn over. Ohhh no. I let go and went again, rubbing her hood and cooing softly.

"Let's go for a drive Gorgeous. Jes you an me. It's a pretty day...."

 THIS time I got a kick and a fart but nothing. I thought I heard the tapping of a zillion poison filled needled backsides at the door as if to  viciously whisper:

"We knoooow you're in therrrrre... We can wait!"

Ahhh Please PLEASE turn over or at least belch enough carbon monoxide to make the slaughter painless. They're coming! I can HEAR THEM! PLEASEpleasepleasepleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase...

guck-gu-gu-grrrrrr_RRRRRRRR!

YES SWEET VICTORY IS MINE! I LOVE YOU BESS!

I assumed a hunched racing position and slammed Ole Bess into gear. R is for run. ;) I let off the clutch and she jerked awake. I was going to escape. Triumphantly, I burst from the barn backwards and zoomed down the ramp spinning the non-power steering wheel as hard as I could to avoid the tree that sat precariously close to the ramp.
 Bess screeched and whined. "WHAT THE HEEEEEEELLL? I thought we were going for a little riiiiiiiide!?"

GOT IT. I squished the clutch, like steppin on a plum, and smacked it into gear. Not first. Oh no. Not fourth. Forget you Buddy. Sixth. I almost flipped myself off the back of the damn thing! Are ya picturing that?? It makes me giggle even now, me and my metallic bronco; Bess. So I escaped the evil yellow jackets and mowed the lawn. I hummed "I'm Free" just for shiggles.

When all was said and done, I of course had to put Bess back. I looked for an ominous shadowy swarm but there was none. The coast was clear. I chuga-chugged it back to the barn feeling good about what I'd done. Did I mention the ramp? Did I mention that Bess is a little stubborn in the brake department? No? Well I can take that time now.

She stumbled over the ramp, biting some of the foundation as we headed in. She tried to pitch me sideways which would be... bad. The ramp is about two feet off the ground. Then as I coaxed her in, she got rammy and took a little run at the back wall. No big deal except I didn't know her brakes were.... light? airy? failing? So I almost smashed that green lil muthah right out the back side. Picture THAT folks!

You know in the back of your minds that your thinking the same thing: Is that where the bees' nest is? Sure thing it is. sigh. BUT crisis averted. I shut 'er down and waited there in the dark again. Hearing no hateful, venomous carving on the outer door,  I bolted; ran all the way to the house whining softly like a broken fire truck...

"eeeeEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeEEEEEEEE!"

It rained today. You can't even tell how I suffered.

Dammit.

Just a quickie. I had to laugh at myself. I hope you smiled too. Until next time, thanks for coming over. It's nice to have someone to laugh with.