Death is part of life. Our society turns focus to the start of life, the births, birthdays and activities of the young. First words, steps and tumbles are anticipated like a blockbuster movie.
Childhood is simple and pleasant for most children. Their lives have some difficulties, sure, but they learn to deal with things little by little.
So spins the earth, and the years tick by. Puberty, adolescence, adulthood. We make it to the goal, adulthood! Then graduation, marriage, children... that's a common path for people. There's divorce a lot of times. We use all these experiences to grow and become wiser.
By the time we go to the 30th reunion from our high school graduation, we've lost some classmates. Some we were aware had passed, and some we discover while we are there. Rather a bittersweet time, that reunion. We know we are not immortal now.
Many of us have another realization around the half-century mark. Our parents are not immortal, either. For me, I realized my own mortality before I realized that of my parents. Yes, indeed some of us came to know that before getting near the half-century mark, There's been a recent escalation in my friends losing their parents, and most are 50 years of age, give or take a couple years.
I lost my father May of 2008. It hurt a lot, but I muddled through. I reflect on him now and again.
However, my Dad is sick now. The Dad who saved me from myself.
I smoked, drank, and toked a little weed. Yes, at the age of 12. Everything I lived with and through, made me doubt I had anything worth protecting in me, so I didn't even try. My father, though I loved him, was sometimes cruel. My Mom, who adored me was so busy trying to protect us, she couldn't take time to get close to me. She ended up protecting us by divorcing him.
I was 12 when my Mom met Dad. His children distanced themselves from him when their mom divorced him. My dad distanced himself from me when Mom divorced him. So, we both had a vacuum where we once had family. We knew the hurt of being thrown away.
We became family to each other, even before Mom and Dad got married. He scolded me when I was out of line, and showered me with protection and love. I mattered to him, and that's what I needed.
He thought highly of me, and I strove to be as good as he thought I was. I rarely drank or smoked pot, though cigarettes had me in their grip. I did not ever want to disappoint him.
I brook no disrespect of my Dad. Not from anyone. He has a reputation of being bull-headed and stubborn, and he is. I get through that wall, the wall he's put up to protect himself, by being open, too. My sister, our children and grandchildren do the same thing. When he's rough, we remind him we love him, no matter what.
As is usual, I don't know the number of days my Dad has remaining on this earth. I want to spend as many of those days as I can with him. When he passes, I'll become stronger and wiser.
Then I will spend the rest of my life still trying not to disappoint him.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Ob-gyn visit
This is for my girls. You know who you are.
I get ready to go for the annual exam and I pay more attention to my hygiene at that time than I do the rest of the year put together.
I bathe, use body wash, bubble bath, exfoliate, shampoo and condition my hair, shave, shave again, lotion, body spray, perfume, powder and anything else I can think of. I cleanse so thoroughly, there is no odor of human being left on my body
THEN, I do my hair, spray a ton of hairspray on to further mask natural odors. I dress with my newest, prettiest panties and bra, put a ton of perfume on, and head to the appointment. The aim is to be at the Dr. one second before I get called back. If, by an awful stroke of fate, I am require to go to the potty before I am seen, I use the wipes I have stashed in my handbag, and clean until I've nearly sanded all the skin off.
Once in the exam room, the nurse gives me a tissue paper gown and tissue paper sheet and tells me to remove everything. The gown is secured by a belt made of the same plastic as the cheapest trash bag. The clothes fly off, and I fold my blouse and pants neater than I ever do at home. In spite of wearing my best unmentionables, they are hidden in the folds of the outer garments. If I allow the unmentionables to be viewed by an ob-gyn, the garments will spontaneously combust.
So, I climb up on the doggone table, and wait. And wait. Then we wait. Nurse comes in and says the Dr. will be there soon, because they are stuck delivering a baby. I get to sit there nekkid as a jaybird except for socks. If I keep my socks on, I'm not truly nekkid. Sometimes the wait is minutes, sometimes hours. Can't move because the gown will disintegrate. Once the Dr. comes in, I discover I am sitting in a small puddle of anxiety-induced perspiration.
A good gyno's eyes never break eye contact. (only applies if the gyno is a guy. a gal is less awkward.) Each gyno has their own style. Some of `em check your mammaries first. They ask all kinds of questions about the girls while they prod about looking for anomalies.
When it's time to get to the business end of business, the tools come out of the deep freeze while I try to get in position. My ample bottom half hangs off the table while the feet are in frigid metal stirrups. The Dr shines a beam of light akin to fire onto my bottom and tells me to relax. Tools are used to pry open things best left closed, while the Dr takes another tool, perhaps a wrecking bar, and scrapes cells outta the vajayjay. This process is not fun.
Then comes palpation of the whole lower guts from more directions than I approve of. I don't know what the Dr. can tell from the whole palpation gig, but it's incredibly awkward.
It's all over. The Doc leaves the room, and I throw my clothes on in 1.6 seconds flat. It's a great fear the Doc will walk back in and catch me with my dignity compromised. Oh wait, that's what was happening all along!
I get ready to go for the annual exam and I pay more attention to my hygiene at that time than I do the rest of the year put together.
I bathe, use body wash, bubble bath, exfoliate, shampoo and condition my hair, shave, shave again, lotion, body spray, perfume, powder and anything else I can think of. I cleanse so thoroughly, there is no odor of human being left on my body
THEN, I do my hair, spray a ton of hairspray on to further mask natural odors. I dress with my newest, prettiest panties and bra, put a ton of perfume on, and head to the appointment. The aim is to be at the Dr. one second before I get called back. If, by an awful stroke of fate, I am require to go to the potty before I am seen, I use the wipes I have stashed in my handbag, and clean until I've nearly sanded all the skin off.
Once in the exam room, the nurse gives me a tissue paper gown and tissue paper sheet and tells me to remove everything. The gown is secured by a belt made of the same plastic as the cheapest trash bag. The clothes fly off, and I fold my blouse and pants neater than I ever do at home. In spite of wearing my best unmentionables, they are hidden in the folds of the outer garments. If I allow the unmentionables to be viewed by an ob-gyn, the garments will spontaneously combust.
So, I climb up on the doggone table, and wait. And wait. Then we wait. Nurse comes in and says the Dr. will be there soon, because they are stuck delivering a baby. I get to sit there nekkid as a jaybird except for socks. If I keep my socks on, I'm not truly nekkid. Sometimes the wait is minutes, sometimes hours. Can't move because the gown will disintegrate. Once the Dr. comes in, I discover I am sitting in a small puddle of anxiety-induced perspiration.
A good gyno's eyes never break eye contact. (only applies if the gyno is a guy. a gal is less awkward.) Each gyno has their own style. Some of `em check your mammaries first. They ask all kinds of questions about the girls while they prod about looking for anomalies.
When it's time to get to the business end of business, the tools come out of the deep freeze while I try to get in position. My ample bottom half hangs off the table while the feet are in frigid metal stirrups. The Dr shines a beam of light akin to fire onto my bottom and tells me to relax. Tools are used to pry open things best left closed, while the Dr takes another tool, perhaps a wrecking bar, and scrapes cells outta the vajayjay. This process is not fun.
Then comes palpation of the whole lower guts from more directions than I approve of. I don't know what the Dr. can tell from the whole palpation gig, but it's incredibly awkward.
It's all over. The Doc leaves the room, and I throw my clothes on in 1.6 seconds flat. It's a great fear the Doc will walk back in and catch me with my dignity compromised. Oh wait, that's what was happening all along!
Monday, January 9, 2012
Fits and starts
Began this blog over a year ago. I seem unable to stay at anything consistently. That might be my biggest gripe with myself, an utter lack of self-motivation. I envy those who have a routine, and the ability to set out to do a task and follow through! I lose track of my goal in the middle of getting up to do it.
I wonder if there's a way to change that aspect of myself? If you're instinct is to tell me to "Just do it", or something asinine like that, I'd rather not hear it! If you've got something insightful to say, do tell!
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Babies
What grandmother does not paint herself as the luckiest woman alive, possessing the smartest, prettiest and most gifted grandchild(ren) to ever exist?
I was gifted with another grand child this past Tuesday. She was 3 hours and 7 minutes too late to be born on my birthday, but she made my birthday exciting anyway.
The Fam (tm) were all gathered at my parent's house to celebrate the wonder of my very own birth, which occurred 48 years before. I had opened some cool presents, and had just come to black amethyst hand cream when Tiffany stood up and exclaimed, "oh, OH, Holy crap, my water just broke!"
Ladies and gentlemen, I've had many a birthday (see above) and a lot of parties. The party when I was five: My cake was dusty lavender and my cousin Vicki got me a lovely mirror, comb and brush. Yet another was a scavenger hunt all over town for my gifts. My 30th began with a room full of people waking me up with the shout of "Happy Birthday".
Nothing can compare to a pregnant woman whose water breaks at your birthday party, especially when she is carrying your granddaughter!
I rushed through opening my presents and cake consumption, then my granddaughter Alexis and I sped to the hospital. Her new baby sister was on the way.
Tiffany didn't get started with the labor in a serious way until they gave her pitocin about 11 PM. Shortly after that I don't know if it was the stress or what, but my son, Ryan (the baby daddy) ended up in the emergency room because he thought he was going to faint. I sat right with Tiffany, and we texted the progress back and forth. About midnight, they said she had progressed well, and I predicted a birth about 3:00 am. When they came it @ 2:00, progress had slowed a little, and I wasn't so sure about 3:00 anymore.
Not a half hour after, Tiffany said she was feeling big pressure, and thought she had to push. I got the nurse, and she was ready. I texted Ryan, "COME NOW NOW NOW", and woke Alexis. It was not long after that everything was ready. With Ryan on one side and me on the other, Tiffany pushed one huge push. There was Madison. Beautiful. Perfect. Her older sister sat on the couch across the room, eyes wide with wonder.
I am the luckiest woman alive. All these grandchildren, each so special. This is what the face of hope is.
I was gifted with another grand child this past Tuesday. She was 3 hours and 7 minutes too late to be born on my birthday, but she made my birthday exciting anyway.
The Fam (tm) were all gathered at my parent's house to celebrate the wonder of my very own birth, which occurred 48 years before. I had opened some cool presents, and had just come to black amethyst hand cream when Tiffany stood up and exclaimed, "oh, OH, Holy crap, my water just broke!"
Ladies and gentlemen, I've had many a birthday (see above) and a lot of parties. The party when I was five: My cake was dusty lavender and my cousin Vicki got me a lovely mirror, comb and brush. Yet another was a scavenger hunt all over town for my gifts. My 30th began with a room full of people waking me up with the shout of "Happy Birthday".
Nothing can compare to a pregnant woman whose water breaks at your birthday party, especially when she is carrying your granddaughter!
I rushed through opening my presents and cake consumption, then my granddaughter Alexis and I sped to the hospital. Her new baby sister was on the way.
Tiffany didn't get started with the labor in a serious way until they gave her pitocin about 11 PM. Shortly after that I don't know if it was the stress or what, but my son, Ryan (the baby daddy) ended up in the emergency room because he thought he was going to faint. I sat right with Tiffany, and we texted the progress back and forth. About midnight, they said she had progressed well, and I predicted a birth about 3:00 am. When they came it @ 2:00, progress had slowed a little, and I wasn't so sure about 3:00 anymore.
Not a half hour after, Tiffany said she was feeling big pressure, and thought she had to push. I got the nurse, and she was ready. I texted Ryan, "COME NOW NOW NOW", and woke Alexis. It was not long after that everything was ready. With Ryan on one side and me on the other, Tiffany pushed one huge push. There was Madison. Beautiful. Perfect. Her older sister sat on the couch across the room, eyes wide with wonder.
I am the luckiest woman alive. All these grandchildren, each so special. This is what the face of hope is.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Happy Samhain and Halloween.
I've run the gamut from abhorring to loving the Halloween season.
Needless to say, I loved it as a child. The season is fraught with fear, excitement and candy. There is no other smell on earth like the inside of a trick or treat bag. It is sweet and pungent. The mix is heady and powerful. It's a given I ate my favorite candy first, so the chocolate was gone in the blink of an eye, as were all grape suckers. I hoarded my candy for weeks. The candy often lasted until nearly Christmas.
My sister would get frustrated with me, because she was not as frugal with her candy. Hers would be gone, and she would ask me to share. I hate to admit it, but I didn't share. I got my candy fair and square, and she was not entitled to it!
When I had children, I had one hoarder, and one who instantly consumed everything with one inhalation. My daughter most likely has candy from her childhood hoarded in her room somewhere. My son has surely eaten all his daughter's candy as we speak.
When my children were young, I enjoyed taking my children to trick or treat and handing out candy to children. I loved taking them to costume parties! As I got older, I began to hear about the dark side of Halloween, and the possible connection with human sacrifice. Masks were supposed to come from Druids who ripped the skin off the sacrifice's face, and wore it as their own face. It was also supposed to be the high holy day of the church of satan.
I bought it all, hook line and sinker. In those days I was a buyer. People told me things, and I believed them. Why would they lie?
I spent years buying full-sized packages of m&ms and attaching tiny bibles to them to give out for trick or treat. I was trying to save humanity from damnation.
I got older. I got wiser. I did some research. Halloween is an old pagan tradition. Doesn't have a particular thing to do with druids, or human sacrifice, or hideous things. It is a day to remember our ancestors, like Memorial day. The Celts called it Samhain. They believed the veil between the world of the living and the dead was lifted on that one evening.
The Catholic Church took the pagan holiday, and turned November 1 into All Saint's Day, or All Hallow's Day. Saints ,both known and unknown are remembered on that day. The day before is All Hallow's Eve, thus the origin of Halloween.
I'm not a believer in damnation anymore. Nothing you can tell me, no bible passage will convince me otherwise. I've read the whole book, and I believe God is our father. I don't believe my father created me to send me to an eternal damnation if I don't walk his line. I can, once again, enjoy Halloween.
I believe in my ancestors. I don't know for sure they wander the world on Samhain. I like to think they do. I enjoy lighting a fire outside on All Hallow's eve. I imagine my dear ancestors sitting by the fire, warming their soul. Perhaps they embrace me. It is a comfort for me, and my soul is warmed at the thought. Isn't that what all rituals are meant to do?
Needless to say, I loved it as a child. The season is fraught with fear, excitement and candy. There is no other smell on earth like the inside of a trick or treat bag. It is sweet and pungent. The mix is heady and powerful. It's a given I ate my favorite candy first, so the chocolate was gone in the blink of an eye, as were all grape suckers. I hoarded my candy for weeks. The candy often lasted until nearly Christmas.
My sister would get frustrated with me, because she was not as frugal with her candy. Hers would be gone, and she would ask me to share. I hate to admit it, but I didn't share. I got my candy fair and square, and she was not entitled to it!
When I had children, I had one hoarder, and one who instantly consumed everything with one inhalation. My daughter most likely has candy from her childhood hoarded in her room somewhere. My son has surely eaten all his daughter's candy as we speak.
When my children were young, I enjoyed taking my children to trick or treat and handing out candy to children. I loved taking them to costume parties! As I got older, I began to hear about the dark side of Halloween, and the possible connection with human sacrifice. Masks were supposed to come from Druids who ripped the skin off the sacrifice's face, and wore it as their own face. It was also supposed to be the high holy day of the church of satan.
I bought it all, hook line and sinker. In those days I was a buyer. People told me things, and I believed them. Why would they lie?
I spent years buying full-sized packages of m&ms and attaching tiny bibles to them to give out for trick or treat. I was trying to save humanity from damnation.
I got older. I got wiser. I did some research. Halloween is an old pagan tradition. Doesn't have a particular thing to do with druids, or human sacrifice, or hideous things. It is a day to remember our ancestors, like Memorial day. The Celts called it Samhain. They believed the veil between the world of the living and the dead was lifted on that one evening.
The Catholic Church took the pagan holiday, and turned November 1 into All Saint's Day, or All Hallow's Day. Saints ,both known and unknown are remembered on that day. The day before is All Hallow's Eve, thus the origin of Halloween.
I'm not a believer in damnation anymore. Nothing you can tell me, no bible passage will convince me otherwise. I've read the whole book, and I believe God is our father. I don't believe my father created me to send me to an eternal damnation if I don't walk his line. I can, once again, enjoy Halloween.
I believe in my ancestors. I don't know for sure they wander the world on Samhain. I like to think they do. I enjoy lighting a fire outside on All Hallow's eve. I imagine my dear ancestors sitting by the fire, warming their soul. Perhaps they embrace me. It is a comfort for me, and my soul is warmed at the thought. Isn't that what all rituals are meant to do?
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Not happily ever after
Is anyone surprised at the pending divorce of Billy Ray Cyrus and his wife Tish? They have been married for 17 years. That is a long time in the high-profile lifestyle that Billy Ray and Tish have led.
As the child of divorce, I should have seen this coming. The timing of Cyrus' daughter, Miley's meltdown and the divorce is not likely to be coincidental.
Miley has become very un-Hannah like the last year or so. I, along with many others, attributed her more provocative, slightly out-of-control behavior as an attempt to grow up and move away from the girlish Hannah Montana image. In retrospect, it also resembles the posturings of a child whose parents are the throes of marital breakdown.
Parental marital strife is traumatic. Otherwise stable children can lose focus when their parents are constantly disagreeing. Parents often try to hide the conflict, but can't always keep everything hidden. Some parents don't try to hide the discord, and that's even more more difficult for a child.
I am not a Cyrus insider, so I am speculating. I gotta say, I became uncontrollable when my parents divorced. It took a couple of years to find myself once the divorce happened. I'm not sure I would have rebounded so quickly if I had not had some remarkable intervention in the form of an outstanding step-dad. He was supportive and strict and listened really well.
Miley is old enough to begin throwing off the protective arms of her parents. I hope the divorce is not going to make her go too far. In any case, I wish all the Cyrus family the best.
As the child of divorce, I should have seen this coming. The timing of Cyrus' daughter, Miley's meltdown and the divorce is not likely to be coincidental.
Miley has become very un-Hannah like the last year or so. I, along with many others, attributed her more provocative, slightly out-of-control behavior as an attempt to grow up and move away from the girlish Hannah Montana image. In retrospect, it also resembles the posturings of a child whose parents are the throes of marital breakdown.
Parental marital strife is traumatic. Otherwise stable children can lose focus when their parents are constantly disagreeing. Parents often try to hide the conflict, but can't always keep everything hidden. Some parents don't try to hide the discord, and that's even more more difficult for a child.
I am not a Cyrus insider, so I am speculating. I gotta say, I became uncontrollable when my parents divorced. It took a couple of years to find myself once the divorce happened. I'm not sure I would have rebounded so quickly if I had not had some remarkable intervention in the form of an outstanding step-dad. He was supportive and strict and listened really well.
Miley is old enough to begin throwing off the protective arms of her parents. I hope the divorce is not going to make her go too far. In any case, I wish all the Cyrus family the best.
Lesser of evils
Voting is our right. I am often glib about things, but voting is something I am duty-bound to do.
What in the heck am I supposed to do when nobody is running?
Every time elections roll around, I'm sick of hearing about candidates. I am more sick of hearing the candidates talk about each other.
I understand how it gets started. A candidate may have honorable intentions, but when the personal attacks begin, it's hard to let them go by unanswered. It's like schoolyard squabbles. Once it starts, the tales grow taller.
The campaigns become poisonous. Liberals say Conservatives are stupid. Conservatives say Liberals are stupid. Conservatives say Liberals are Hitler. Liberals say Conservatives are Hitler. Liberals say Conservatives only eat green m & m candies and hate all others and want them outlawed. Conservatives say Liberals only eat green m & m candies and hate all others and want them all outlawed. Each side brings in experts to verify the jellybean conspiracy. It's frightening, dear friends.
I have it on good authority both parties are headed by illegal aliens from the Andromeda galaxy. They are here to cause a breakdown in the fabric of our society so they can swoop in with cash money and buy authentic Levi jeans at a deep discount.
I'm counting on you to keep this secret. If the Andromedians find out we're on to them, they may weaken the m & m market, too.
What in the heck am I supposed to do when nobody is running?
Every time elections roll around, I'm sick of hearing about candidates. I am more sick of hearing the candidates talk about each other.
I understand how it gets started. A candidate may have honorable intentions, but when the personal attacks begin, it's hard to let them go by unanswered. It's like schoolyard squabbles. Once it starts, the tales grow taller.
The campaigns become poisonous. Liberals say Conservatives are stupid. Conservatives say Liberals are stupid. Conservatives say Liberals are Hitler. Liberals say Conservatives are Hitler. Liberals say Conservatives only eat green m & m candies and hate all others and want them outlawed. Conservatives say Liberals only eat green m & m candies and hate all others and want them all outlawed. Each side brings in experts to verify the jellybean conspiracy. It's frightening, dear friends.
I have it on good authority both parties are headed by illegal aliens from the Andromeda galaxy. They are here to cause a breakdown in the fabric of our society so they can swoop in with cash money and buy authentic Levi jeans at a deep discount.
I'm counting on you to keep this secret. If the Andromedians find out we're on to them, they may weaken the m & m market, too.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Facebook is not enough
I'm a bit of a facebook addict. There. I've admitted it. Hi! My name is Sheena, and I'm a facebook addict. Yes... I'm pretty sure I hear voices that answered "Hi Sheena".
HOWEVER... facebook is not a blog site. I'm disappointed facebook feels blogging is not as useful as say, Mafia Wars. Yes, I've used the notes feature before, but notes makes me feel like I'm stuck back in the corner of facebook, perhaps behind a little wall. If I want someone I know to know I wrote a note, I have to tag them. They get a notice I tagged them in a note. I didn't write about them in a note, I wanted them to read the work I created. They think I've written about them, and are disappointed to learn I wrote about dingy laundry. Not a pretty sight, I'm sure. Now they are indignant that I got them to read my little note under false pretenses. Poor dears.
I'll be truthful, facebook takes care of most my needs. It entertains, informs and at times, enrages me. It's odd that such an inanimate thing makes me feel so alive. I am closer to more friends than I have ever been, and they are closer to me. I've told things on facebook that I would not have been able to say face to face.
It's opened up my real world. I'm able to look at a person I've known for years, and tell them how I feel about them, face to face now. The wall of protection facebook gives us, even though it's largely imaginary, carries over to life. I've told this friend or that friend "Love ya!" in a casual way on facebook. They've said it back. I am less reserved now. I feel accepted, loved, and appreciated.
Some things on the interwebz make us worse citizens of the world, ( http://gawker.com/5062582/koreas-internet-suicide-pandemic ) and some can make our world a better place. ( http://icanhascheezburger.com/ ) Facebook, for it's many flaws, has made me a better person.
What good thing has the internet done for you?
Welcome to my blog!
Welcome to my Blogger! It's exciting to be back in the blog saddle. I'm not quite the blog newbie. I've had a blog three different places, Myspace, Live Journal and Yahoo 360. Yahoo 360 shut down, Myspace is old hat, and Live Journal is not busy, either.
I activated this blog with the intent of doing this for me. If someone else wants to read it, so much the better. I have a need to write, and this seems like the place for me to do it.
The first years on the internet were rough for me. I had to learn the faceless people were real, living, breathing and feeling. It was easy for me to be snarky to someone who was not there. I could take a bad day out on the person posting on this site or that site, and I wasn't hurting anyone.
The table got turned when someone stole the screen name of a good friend, and proceeded to rip me to shreds. Pretending to be that good friend, they told me they didn't really like me, and they wanted to tell me what they really thought of me. The post was brutal, and I was in a sobbing heap before I could finish it.
I collected myself after a time, and called my sister. She logged on and read the post. She was infuriated, and called the friend. He had no idea what she was talking about. We researched and found the screen name was not the same. The way the name was formatted a period was a mile out past the name, off the visible screen. Further research led to the discovery of the culprit, who thought he was only having a bit of fun.
I learned you, the one reading this, are human. You have feelings. I understand that. I will do all I can do to be a worthy guardian of your feelings. I cannot avoid expressing my opinions. That's what I'm here for. I will do all I can do to keep from getting personal. I ask you be civil when you make comments. I look forward to getting to know you, and I hope you enjoy getting to know me!
Blessings upon you.
Sheena
I activated this blog with the intent of doing this for me. If someone else wants to read it, so much the better. I have a need to write, and this seems like the place for me to do it.
The first years on the internet were rough for me. I had to learn the faceless people were real, living, breathing and feeling. It was easy for me to be snarky to someone who was not there. I could take a bad day out on the person posting on this site or that site, and I wasn't hurting anyone.
The table got turned when someone stole the screen name of a good friend, and proceeded to rip me to shreds. Pretending to be that good friend, they told me they didn't really like me, and they wanted to tell me what they really thought of me. The post was brutal, and I was in a sobbing heap before I could finish it.
I collected myself after a time, and called my sister. She logged on and read the post. She was infuriated, and called the friend. He had no idea what she was talking about. We researched and found the screen name was not the same. The way the name was formatted a period was a mile out past the name, off the visible screen. Further research led to the discovery of the culprit, who thought he was only having a bit of fun.
I learned you, the one reading this, are human. You have feelings. I understand that. I will do all I can do to be a worthy guardian of your feelings. I cannot avoid expressing my opinions. That's what I'm here for. I will do all I can do to keep from getting personal. I ask you be civil when you make comments. I look forward to getting to know you, and I hope you enjoy getting to know me!
Blessings upon you.
Sheena
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