Sunday Scribblings - Hanging with Celebrities

It was the summer of 1975 when I was 14 and boy crazy. My family was finishing up our three week RV vacation from hell. We had driven from CA to NJ straight across the good ole USA. Traveling home by way of Florida and the southern states. I missed most of the majestic views with my nose stuck in romance novels, bored to tears. My mom kept me well supplied with books throughout the trip to keep the peace between my younger brother and I. What do you get when you stick a bored 12yr old boy with his 14yr old sister couped up in a hot RV? Big trouble!

My mom decided she wanted to visit her aunt Booge in Newhall, CA on our way home. She owned a gun club in the boonies of southern CA. It was actually not very far from Hollywood but it looked like we were in the middle of nowhere at the time. Booge was an older woman that loved her gin, smoked and talked like a sailor. She didn't like kids and never had any of her own. She said what she thought and didn't care about tact. She didn't hesitate to ask my parents to leave me with her for the summer before we left. She said "just leave that one here and I'll put her to work" and mom mentioned my younger brother and she said "he's too young." I knew that with two working parents I'd be stuck at home all summer with my little brother. I begged to be left with this intimidating character called Booge and they reluctantly agreed.

The Oak Tree Gun Club was full of cute high school boys hired to pull skeet and trap for the summer. I was the only girl besides my aunt and felt as if I'd died and gone to heaven. Did I mention Magic Mountain was 3 miles away? We pulled skeet and trap for hunters and the very rich. Actors, brain surgeons and producers. They would tip us if we carried their caviar and champagne ice chests to the range. If we did not hit the button fast enough they would complain and get a new trap kid or a free round. I could not stand these stuck up men but I liked the tournament guys that were considered the good ole boys. They also liked having a sweet young thing like me at the range. I learned to shoot 12 gauge shot guns, but sported a bruised cheek for a week until I learned to keep my head down.

Do you recognise this regular? In 1975 he was know as Mr. Universe, who knew he'd be my Governor one day. Without the oiled skin he looked somewhat normal in shorts and a tank. I was ready to go on a date with the cutest trap boy at the range when my aunt called me into her office. Rolling my eye's I rushed into the office and there was this guy with her. My aunt said "Tammy I'd like you to meet a friend of mine" and she continued "Arnold this is my niece Tammy." He put his hand out so I did the same, but instead of shaking it he kissed it saying "Taaamy I'm very pleeeased to met you." I looked at him strangely and then looked at my aunt with eyes that begged to be excused. I responded with good manners and hurried off to my date. I pulled trap for Arnold later that week and because his muscles were so big, he could not bend them to pull the trigger. He could hit 17 out of 25 targets from the hip. Now that impressed me but Mr. Universe, not so much. He was a genuinely nice guy without an ego.

This guy was not just a regular but a family friend. He'd hang out after hours with his wife and stay for a BBQ. One day he asked me who my favorite movie star was and I swooned in my baked beans replying "Jan Michael Vincent." He chuckled and said he was making a movie with him called "Big Wednesday" and would try and get him to the range. I never got the chance to meet him that summer after all. Funny how these guys made it and my poor Jan Michael ended up a drug addict. Steven was also down to earth but probably doesn't remember that trap girl of 75.

That summer I was free to discover myself, learn a good work ethic, how to shoot and meet people that were really cool. Fourteen year old girls don't go gaw gaw for 30yr old actors and directors. Now if the guys from Teen Beat magazine were there shooting I would never have gone home. I wish I would have gone back every summer but high school and boyfriends became a priority. The summer of 75 rocked!

Write on Wednesday

Write on Wednesday asks:

Are you ever assailed with self doubt about your writing ability, or about the reasons for writing at all? Do you “follow yourself around nagging and suggesting and complaining”? What are some of the negative things your Editor tells you? What could your Editor say to be more encouraging? How do you encourage yourself to keep practicing the craft of writing?

My reasons for writing came from boredom. When you can't drive alone, have poor balance and hubby's at work, you need more than a boob tube for entertainment. I love to read but that comes in waves. The fact that I won't put a good book down unless I have to pee maybe the reason for the waves. My family also prefers I eat and talk with them when their at home. Go figure? lol

Reading helped me to tell a good story with the addition of facial expressions and Italian hands. It also expanded my everyday vocabulary to new heights. Between reading, my humor and life experiences, writing on my computer was like telling a story with just a finger. Bloggers liked my voice encouraging me to step out of my safety zone into poetry and fiction. I was very nervous to tell a story I hadn't lived or in a foreign format, like poetry. But I tried it and really liked it. I now saw stories and poetry everywhere I went.

I look at every post as a conversation or story I'm telling a friend. I don't think about if it's a good story or not. I just worry that my finger won't translate fast enough from my brain to the screen. I write just like I talk except with poetry. That is a translation of feelings. It is a little tricky so if I'm stuck I turn to Dave, my editor. I know by his reaction if it needs tweaking, he never has to say a word. I don't pre-write, I edit twice, spell check and hit post. It takes about an hour after the idea comes to me for the process. I don't take it too seriously, I just sit back and enjoy watching where it takes me. It helps your confidence when your editor is your biggest fan. ;)

I don't need to encourage myself to write because my blog buddies and Dave do it for me. Of course, if I get into a good book, a rut, or go away for a few days it's hard to get back to the keyboard. That editor of mine never fails to notice my absence as he slyly asks " What's your prompt today?" or "did you blog today?" The more I write the more I enjoy it and when I go back to 2005 I see improvement. I still need some classes in grammar and composition but that will be icing on the cake.

http://ajeeb.deviantart.com/art/Writing-25586430 PHOTO
http://writeonwednesday.wordpress.com/

3WW ~ Fiction

She lay in the dark unable to sleep. The bed seemed cold as the other side remained empty, untouched. She turned on her side watching the clock change into meaningless minutes. How many nights had she lost sleep, terrified he was dead in a ditch or in the arms of another. Sadly she no longer cared where he was or even if he was hurt. The love she once felt had poured from her body with her tears of hopelessness. She was empty, moving through each day giving to everyone but herself.

The questions that rattled around in her head in these quiet moments had answers. In the light of day the answers became blurred as she dressed the kids for daycare. He had slithered home before day break, into another room, hiding his leftover high. Indifferent to a new day of family and job responsibilities he ignored the lives living around him. She would drown out her cries for help by pushing it aside with work.

He had emotionally beat her down with his addiction. Sucking her in deeper by telling her no one would want her, she was ugly and fat. She thought she could save him from self destruction despite his cruelty. When she had thought he had changed she became hopeful. In those months she had seen the reasons she had fallen for him and naively became pregnant each time. Thinking the love of a family could be stronger than addiction. Her shame kept her down as she looked into her babies eye's. What had she done.

It was a beautiful soul that saw her pain and convinced her of her worth. He was a married man that she could never have and yet he taught her that she deserved love. He reached out out to her despite his own pain. It was not about physical closeness but about two hurting people being there for each other. He helped her see herself as he saw her and she grew stronger. It was an affair that was brief and could never be more. There was not an ounce of regret but instead a grateful clear heart. She finally had the courage to leave her husband and begin a new life.

Telling her husband she was leaving him was easy once she had made up her mind. When he saw her eye's he knew all feeling for him was gone but he could not accept it. In desperation he tried everything he could think of to keep his family together. Promises, more counseling and even flowers did not come close to erasing the scars. He just wanted one good reason why she would tear their family apart. She had left him in her heart long ago and she was done with explanations falling on deaf ears.

It was a long hard road to becoming a liberated woman. What amazed her was how easy it was to lose herself so completely in a relationship. It was not just about her youth or immaturity but about needing to be loved. She saw a pattern of dependency in her search. If it was not a man, it was as a mother and even her job. Forever watchful, she remains true to herself. Allowing relationships to enhance her life not consume it like an addiction.

http://notforyousweete.deviantart.com/art/I-can-t-do-this-anymore-77925966 Photo
http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/ Indifferent - Pour - Reason (Fiction)

Sunday Scribblings - Vision for Robbin

WHITE DAISIES

I strolled silently as a ghost
that appears without notice or direction,
when suddenly I spot a gathering,
A legion, of white daises;
Under the cedars, beside the path,
Smiling and reaching for the sun.

Happy as the child at play
and awed at the blue of the sky,
They stand in tall crowds
a head above the rest;
hundreds I seem to count,

pinwheels in touching embraces.

For when stillness sets with the sun
and thoughts steal the light,
I remember them in my mind

which always brings a smile to my lips;
and then my heart expels the crazies,
with visions of smiling white daises.

This was written for my friend Robbin at http://cedarchestofdreams.blogspot.com/ who is a fellow warrior battling cancer just after losing her 30yr old son. She really needs healing thoughts and prayers.

Friday Updates

Have you ever tried to put a tight jumpsuit on a barbie doll? Well try putting a wet suit on a 46 year old limp body and you have the every other day routine of Tammy and Dave. It's not a pretty sight to watch while he pulls over rolls and wobbly bits. Poor Dave must then get in the pool first to help me out of the hoist and into the pool. When it's 85 outside and the water is 70 it is a shock to your body. So you get a few expletives and major shrinkage from Dave. lol I'm now using 3lb weights on my leg's for a better workout and having that warm water poured in my suit keeps me limber. He gets out and gardens while I workout. He keeps a very close eye on the redheaded seal in the pool. Did I mention I can no longer swim? My dumb bell buoy's are a wonderful invention.

I'd like you to meet Sampson, my new grand dog! His mom is my oldest daughter's new Dopple Dachshund or miniature spotted wiener dog. She wanted to test her readiness for having a baby. Who knew a puppy could be an effective birth control method. I could not decide which was more stressful, a visit with TK or a spaz puppy dog. They are both very affectionate with gramy and so cute.

My oldest, Michelle, has been ticked off at me for about five years. She tried to hide it until I decided to move two hours away. If she were to be honest she has had issues with me since I married Dave. She likes Dave but I think she feels replaced and unappreciated for the years where she was my caregiver/daughter. There is a bond between mother and daughter but then you add the care giving closeness and it's tough to let go. She was already moved out when Dave came along but her perception is her reality. When I rented her childhood home to her sister that was the nail in the proverbial coffin. I had no idea she wanted it due to having just moved into her own home.

Eight months was as long as she could handle without seeing her mom. I sat back and waited for her to figure things out. When I got the call she was coming I was excited and yet apprehensive. She tried to hate the house but couldn't and I was grateful for no angry outbursts. Although her feelings of anger are still there we have moved on. We discussed things over the phone and simply had to agree to disagree. It's called the mother, daughter dance.

Then there is my Nikki. She will soon be ten and it seems our move has also rocked her world. The year before we moved I lost my Manny dog at 17. He has been Nikki's protector and mentor her whole life. She even hikes her leg to pee just like Manny. The vet came to the house to put Manny down and said it would help Nikki not search for him if she was in the room. She still grieved and became clingy. With the move it got worse. She won't go out at night alone, barks the whole time we leave her, poops to punish us for leaving and we have no dog sitter up here. We tried dogie Prozac, a Kong toy with peanut butter, leaving her in the basement with kitty and she now sleeps in a bed by our bed not in it. OK, that's punishing me!

She's making us a prisoner in our own home. We can't travel overnight together and I won't leave her in a car. A kennel would send her into a anxiety coma and little kids and other dogs suddenly freak her out. We just feel bad and yet it's driving us nuts! We are currently trying a beeping collar with a high pitched noise. The vet said to re-train Nikki we must be re-trained...Oy vey! Wish us luck!

A HUGE thank you to Dave for taking me and all that came with me. ;)

3WW - A Light at the End of the Tunnel?

Rumor - Shake - Spontaneous

I have not been able to shake the gnawing feeling that I have been misdiagnosed. Other ALS patients, support groups and friends have also had the same thoughts. Over the last four years a small glimmer of hope has been growing as each year passes that just maybe the doctors had got it wrong, again. After all it took four neurologists and four years to go from MS to ALS.

The last neurologist I trusted dedicated his life to finding a cure for ALS but sadly he now has ALS and the rumor is he is under hospice care. I have not seen a neurologist in five years until this week, but have kept up on all the latest research. There is usually no reason to see a specialist until you need a procedure but an updated opinion couldn't hurt.

I sat waiting in a tiny exam room for the "new guy" to appear. I was there under duress by my new primary care doctor. Who was a tad uncomfortable taking me on alone. Dave waited in the chair across from me as I tried to get comfy on that cheap tissue cover. There were models of brains on every surface that held our interest until the doctor arrived.

He was about my age with a very bad toupee sitting crooked on his head. He shook each of our hands with a big warm smile. I was thinking OK here it comes, the big drawn out physical exam of standing, pushing and walking. Instead he surprised me by setting aside my file and asking me what I thought I had. That caught me off guard but surprisingly I gave him a quick answer. An illness that acted like ALS but stopped at the lungs (not fatal). Now he was caught off guard as he said "I agree" surprised at my knowledge.

He took out the dreaded rubber reflex hammer and tapped my knees. I have clonus which causes hyper reflexes in my legs. Both legs shot out like rockets as he says "well there goes that theory" disappointed. It can't be what we thought, this is classic ALS. As I heard those words my secret flame of hope was gone. He continued by asking me "how I wanted this to go?" I knew what he meant as I looked him squarely in the face saying "I want to keep fighting until the cure."

He continued to over enunciate his words due to speaking in broken English to make sure we were on the same page. Going over the procedures that would need to be done all the way to a breathing machine, at some point. Yada, yada, yada but then he said do you know about Lithium? "Isn't that for bi-polar patients?" I asked. He said there are findings that it can create new cells in the brain that might help ALS, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's etc. I had a spontaneous burst of enthusiasm and optimism. "What about side effects?" I asked and he said "it was a low dose that may make me a bit sleepy." I said " I'll take the prescription and read about it, then decide." It's not a cure but it supposedly buys time. The doctor rubbed my back and said "who knows we might be writing a paper on the miracle ALS survivor someday."

I've read some good and some bad reviews from other ALS patients. The jury is still out but there is always that glimmer of hope.

http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/

Write on Wednesday

What's Your Line?

"What do you catch yourself thinking about? What experiences and relationships in your life are the most meaningful? What catches your attention when you’re out and about? These are the things you’re going to know, the things you’re going to care about, and that knowledge and caring will resonate in your writing.
This is where you’ll find your line."

Since I was a little girl I was a chatter box and always got a laugh. In school I kept up the chit chat much to the dismay of my teachers. I was the outgoing cheerleader that enjoyed being with people and making them laugh. I must also confess I loved the boys and was an outrageous flirt. Fast forward, past the hard 20's, and my world was turned upside down.

I was a 29 year old, single mom of two young girls, stripped of my career. Being told that ALS would take my life and the stability of my little girls. I had no time for pity parties. I had to prepare my girl's for a life without me. That would haunt them adversely to this day. When everything in your world begins to sink things you could have never imagined comes to the surface. Strength, love and hope!

Funny thing about doctors is they don't know everything. As I entered my 14th year with ALS I found my voice through blogging. Through the hell of the teenage hormonal years, living with a disability and finding the love of a good man, I had me a story. I write what I have lived and how it affects those around me. I use my chatty humor to tell a story I have been privileged to live. In most posts there is hope and I often use nature to express it. I see life so differently and I desperately want to share what I've learned.

My grammar stinks and I thank God everyday for spell checker. But I'm learning to express what I have lived through writing and poetry. I don't have any desire to be published, but I would give my right arm to have the fortitude to write my story as a novel (Jodi Picoult style, as seen through each characters eye's). In a way my blog is writing that novel but many relationships are left out (privacy issues). I'm going to take a few online writing courses, keep practicing using fiction and one day write my story. It's a daunting task with one finger but maybe with technology or a ghost writer it will happen.

What's my line? A deep appreciation of life.

http://writeonwednesday.wordpress.com/2008/06/24/welcome-to-write-on-wednesday/