and the clouds part...

...and there are silver linings all around.

It's been a wacky week. Most of the wackiness started on Veteran's Day, of all days. But the events are for a different post.

The week has ended with an exoneration.

Today I was half-heartedly scraping paint off of windows at a friends rental, when my husband called. He had received the mail. Now, this is not ordinarily great news. It's usually bills, overdraft notices, and magazines (somehow, they've gotten our address). But today was unusual; there was an envelope from the State of Kansas, Department of Administration, Office of Administrative Hearings.

James explained that he did not want to open it. Certainly not alone, so he called me. I held my breath and sat down.

James began reading...and read...and read....and read. Most of it was highlighting the results of the hearing officer's opinion from the hearing in April. The important words...

"The Committee also finds that this is a difficult case, but based on the totality of the circumstances, although the appellants actions meet the definition of emotional abuse, they are not a danger to children as a whole and therefore their names should not be placed on the Registry. The decision of the presiding officer is reversed."

Now, I do not agree with the entire paragraph, but I certainly cannot argue with a committee that reverses a finding causing me/us to win the appeal. I like the "not a danger to children as a whole". What does that mean exactly? That we're only a danger to children in parts?

I also have the same arguments in their Findings of Fact. Their finding are not fact. Their findings are based upon SRS fiction and the lies of a 17 year old punk. We were at our end with this girl. No one was ignorant of her needs, we were just flat tired of her game. She turned 18 on November 3. The game is over.

Interestingly, Amanda stayed in the system for a solid year, causing problems the entire time. We would hear whispers and receive looks during various court hearings. There was a standard hearing scheduled for November 5, two days after she turned 18. Miraculously, the judge signed an order terminating her case on November 3, her birthday. This never happens. NEVER. A Child in Need of Case case is not summararily dismissed because the child turns 18. The court has jurisdiction over child until the age of 21, 23 in certain instances. AND, she was still on probation. My understanding was the probation was extended until January 2009.

I learned last week that this termination was rushed through because St. Francis had no idea where the girl was. Consequently, they wouldn't be able to produce her for a court hearing. Our fine system at work. At least they took the steps to get her a GED. I see a great future in food service and public welfare on her horizon.

No matter. That door is now shut. I'll gather my cubic foot box of documentation and place it in safe storage. My daughters can burn it when I'm dead.

Child Support Enforcement?

I think....ummmmm...not.

Some may think I have a recent vendetta against the Kansas Department of SRS. I do. I am firing off these thoughts in an attempt to rid my head of the never ending vile obsession with how corrupt, discriminating, and negligent they truly are. I am praying that someone out there can guide me in this. This agency has become so huge and tangled that there is no chance of bringing all they do to light. The time to straighten out this cluster conglomerate has passed. They will continue to operate in a fashion that hurts rather than helps.

I used to think that those who complained about SRS were those who had screwed up. I worked for an attorney who held the bulk of our county's juvenile contract. When parents would call to complain about SRS, I would make an obscene gesture to my office, roll my eyes, and assure the caller that SRS wasn't "out to get them". Assure them that if SRS needed to talk with them about any sort of complaint or abuse investigation, they had nothing to fear. No, they did not need a lawyer. Boy was I wrong....wrong....wrong!

In March 2006, my husband, James, was a single father of four. He qualified for some day care assistance, some food assistance, and medical for these kids. He worked hard long hours each day. He awoke at 5:00 a.m. got himself and his kids ready for the day. Delivered the little kids to daycare around 6:00 or 6:30, then worked his full day. Come home to fix some supper, bathe the kids, and crash by 8:00, 8:30 at the latest. I point this out for a reason. I'm not boasting of his efforts as a single parent. Thousand, if not millions of single parents do this every day. For years. I worship each of them.

James received a letter from the Kansas Department of SRS, Child Support Enforcement, stating that he was a mandatory participant in Child Support Enforcement. He was thrilled. The letter dictate that he complete the enclosed paperwork and return to them immediately. OR, he risked losing what benefits he was receiving. Why the hell would he NOT do this? His lawyer thought it best that he not go after the little kids "mom" for child support as she was not working. He did not tell James that he could still get a child support order, imputing minimum wage for this woman. No. He just told James he couldn't get child support because this woman wasn't working.

James complied and filled out the Domestic Relations Affidavit, and returned it to their office - pronto. And waited. Then waited. And waited some more. He attempted to call the "case manager" listed on the letter. No luck. He'd leave voice messages. No return call. Each time the little kids mom went to work, he'd call Child Support Enforcement with an update of the place and location of Vanessa's employment. Nada. Nothing. Zip.

In August or September 2006, he finally received a call back from his case manager. At that time he was informed, "Mr. Willett, you just aren't a priority at this time." A few days later, he received, in the mail, another DRA to complete and return. Done. See previous paragraph.

In December 2006, Amanda was place by SRS with her mom. On January 5, 2007 James was laid off. In January 2007, SRS cut his food benefits because there was one less child in the home. With time on his hands, James went to SRS. He was greeted with fear by his case manager. She shoved new paperwork at him and told him to complete this, again. He headed straight home, completed his third DRA and returned the next day to SRS. He was greeted by a NEW case manager. He handed over his Domestic Relations Affidavit blindly.

In June 2007, James received a letter from the Kansas Department SRS Child Support Enforcement, stating that, although he was no longer receiving assistance, he continued to be "enrolled in the Non-TAF Support Enforcement Program". This letter further stated, "This allows you and the children to continue to receive child support and medical support enforcement services. You MUST notify this office ifyou DO NOT want these services." Why in God's name would James call to advise that he does NOT want these services? Consequently, he did not call.

In August 2007, James received a letter from SRS Child Support Enforcement, that his case was being closed. The reason? "There is no longer a current support order and arrearages were less than $500 or are unforceable".

I became enraged. I immediately began to research and found the Kansas Department of SRS Child Support Enforcement Manual only. Eureka! I thought I had struck gold!

I fired off the following letter to no less than seven officials within SRS. Three in Topeka.


Dear Ms. Patterson:

I am writing in response to a notice recently received from you which states that my Child Support Enforcement case will be closed effective September 14, 2007. I was never aware that it was ever opened. I would like clarification as to why I am receiving this notice. Ms. Patterson, I have completed your required paperwork three times. The first notice I received in June 2006. I made several phone calls to your office over the next few months with absolutely no results. In October 2006, I was able to reach someone in your office who told me that my case was not a priority. I will never understand how a single father supporting four children is not a priority. Except, that I am a “single father”. The last communication I had was in January 2007. At that time I was told that I wasn't eligible to receive child support because my ex-wife and I have “joint custody” although I am the residential custodian. I found this statement laughable and gave up entirely on any help from your agency.

Imagine my surprise researching the SRS website and the Child Support Enforcement Manual and Handbook. I discovered that from April 2006 until May 2007, I fell under the Mandatory Participant category. I was receiving medical, food, and daycare assistance. At the present time, I fall under the Non-TAF or Non Mandatory Participant category. In case you are unfamiliar with the Child Support Enforcement Manual and Handbook, I have copied and pasted directly from your website the Description of Services and the Eligibility for Services. Additionally, I have copied the Non Discrimination paragraph and beg you to tell me why I have received no assistance from Child Support Enforcement.

The reason in your notice states:
“There is no longer a current support order and arrearages are less than $500 or are unenforceable.”

There is no current order, I agree. I cannot afford an attorney as I am the sole provider of four children. It was my understanding that your department existed to assist me in obtaining child support because at that time, I was receiving food, medical, and daycare assistance. If your agency had assisted me in June 2006, arrearages would be much much greater than $500.00 and would be enforceable. Under the Mandatory Participant category, the non custodial arrearages to SRS are much greater than $500.00. I called your agency each time my ex-wife obtained employment and advised the location. Each time it was noted yet I have not received any confirmation that SRS Child Support Enforcement was making any effort to enforce child support.
It is interesting that the only branch of SRS which I have heard from are the social workers investigating child abuse allegations made by my ex-wife. You see, she becomes very very angry any time I make any demands upon her to provide for court ordered expenses.

I also find this entire subject grossly discriminating. I have jumped through your hoops with regard to this issue. And have received no help. I am most definitely under the belief that I have not received child support because I am a single father and not a single mother. Each of my ex-wives have received SRS ordered child support immediately. I have been dangling out here for one and a half years.

Additionally, I have reported Vanessa Willett repeatedly for fraud. This complaint has fallen on deaf ears.

I also anticipate that in the near future, Vanessa Willett will apply for, and receive, benefits from SRS. She has already applied fraudulently in May or June 2006. Please be advised that I have residential custody of the above listed children and am receiving nothing from either their mother, Vanessa Willett, or SRS.

I would sincerely appreciate a response from your agency as to why I have received your notice. I am hereby begging for your assistance with child support.

The result? A fourth Domestic Relations Affidavit was sent to our residence by certified mail.

We held onto it. Unsure of what to do. Why complete a fourth? He finally completed this but decided to return it through the SRS office in Hutchinson. Sedgwick County wasn't working for him, perhaps a different venue would.

In March 2008, James received a letter from SRS Child Support Enforcement. Guess what it said! His case was to be closed. The reason? "There is no longer a current support order and arrearages were less than $500 or are unforceable".

ARGHARGHARGH....SCREAM! I/we sent the following to the same seven people:

Dear Ms. Patterson:

Once again, I am in receipt of a notice from you stating that my Child Support Enforcement case will be closed effective 05/04/2008 because “There is no longer a current support order and arrearages are less than $500 or are unenforceable.

Ms Patterson, this is the second letter I have written to you. After my first letter in August 2007, I received a prompt response from Pamela Worden. However, this response was simply to send me a Modified Child Support Questionnaire to complete. I admit, that I did not complete this in a timely manner. However, as you were already in receipt of my information three times since 2006, I did not understand why you needed modified information when my original information has not change. The only change I have made is my address. At any rate, I did turn this information into the Hutchinson SRS office earlier this year.

1310.1 Non-Discrimination
No person will, on the grounds of race, religion, color, sex, age, handicap, national origin or ancestry, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefit of, or be subject to discrimination under any program or activity of the State Department of Social and Rehabilitation Services (SRS).

Please explain how the above paragraph does not apply to me; a custodial father of three children. I would sincerely appreciate another response from your agency as to why I have received your notice. I am, again, hereby begging for your assistance with child support. If this assistance is not to be forthcoming, please provide specific details and instruction as to what more I can possibly do to obtain your assistance.

That letter was sent on March 11. On March Cou17, James received a telephone message at the house from an employee of Sedgwick County SRS. This caller requested James call immediately. He did. That result? This employee was needing verification from James that the children lived with him. WHAT? Oh good Lord! They have a copy of his divorce decree. There were a multitude of voice mails left by James. There were letters. Why would they need verification that the kids live with him? Because that dirty whore of a "mom", Vanessa, was receiving SRS benefits!!!! Claiming that the children live with her.

FURY still exists when I recall this. We scrambled to gather proof of enrollment in the school, daycare, Boys and Girls Club. I was prepared to coordinate depositions if that's what it took.

On March 19, James received a letter from Pamela Worden, Supervisor, Wichita CSE/Unit 4. On April 1, all of James' information (including his cost of health insurance) was forwarded to the Sedgwick County Court Trustee's Office.

In June James was notified of a hearing and supplied with documentation of the recommended child support amount. Fury again. This amount was exactly half what I had already figured. I am no idiot when it comes to computing child support. I rely on a program but I can cajole and manipulate that program to benefit even the slimiest of clients.

Upon reviewing the documentation, it became clear the Court Trustee's legal assistant had not a clue. She had miscalcuated the health insurance, to the whore's benefit, and had not listed any daycare paid by us. That amount alone is $480 per month. They were requesting $288.00 in child support.

I kept checking the Kansas Payment Center website, anticipating a payment. It never showed. I then remembered that I could check the court's docket. WHOA! STOP THE BUS. That website reflected four continuances, an order for HER to provide health insurance, and a motion filed by a retained attorney. We learned later that the Court Trustee divulged to her that her child support cost could be reduced if she provided health insurance. James has had those kids insured for a year.

I finally spilled the story to the attorney I work for. He demanded that I enter his appearance in the matter and get this settled. I did. He did. It's nearly done. I mailed the Income Withholding Order to her employer today. We should have a payment within three to five weeks. None of it goes back to SRS.

SRS Calls Us Child Abuser's

So, I've told the story so many times. I get bored with it. I have to believe that those I tell are also bored with it. Yet, my friends still ask about it. My good friends don't have to ask. I just volunteer the latest Satan story, for lack of better words. I know it's not appropriate to refer to a 17 year old girl as Satan. But I can't help it. I've never known anyone like her. Tho the more I tell the story, the more stories I hear of teens of similar nature. Tho none so good at playing a game as Satan. Maybe I'll find a different word down the road. I doubt it.

I never know if I should start at the beginning, or the end. There is no end. There will never be an end. Only short breaks. The longest break for me was six months. James has never had a break. I wonder, had he known what he was in for, if he had known 15 years ago what was in store for him with her, if he would have tried so hard. I'm glad he didn't know. This just adds to his accomplishments.

I have been tried, convicted, sentenced, and hung in the seemingly High Court of the Kansas Department of SRS. When I say "I" there is really a "we" but I was an only child for nine years. Consequently, I'm selfish when it comes to matters that affect "me".

I am a child abuser. Yes, me. Nominated for CASA of the year right out of the shoot; former vocal advocate for children; quite nearly completed MAPPS training to foster; went to school with the career goal of Juvenile Probation; mother of a child diagnosed at the age of 15 with text-book rapid cycling manic depression; known around Reno County to 21 and 24 year-olds as "Ashli's mom" or "Brandi's mom". Never Tori, no. I am "Ashli's mom" or "Brandi's mom". I married a man just last year who has fathered six children. I am a child abuser.

The time-line of events is tight. Very tight. So tight that, Kansas Social Worker, Hope Fike, admitted it took her, at best, three hours of investigation to come to this sound conclusion. Three hours. I have a cubic foot box which is roughly 85% full of documentation. It took me countless hours to review this documentation. And, I'm not done. It was a first-run review. Not an in-depth review. But, for a seasoned social worker like Hope Fike, she can substantiate child abuse after a three hour investigation which included two face-to-face interviews and two phone calls each 5 weeks apart.

It would be easy to say, "It all began one hot summer day". But it didn't really start there. I suppose, to condense, I could say, "It all began in the fall of 2006". That's not when the train left the station. But it was the beginning of the biggest train wreck I have ever witnessed first hand. And it's still wrecking.

My husband has a daughter who is now 17. Since she is a juvenile, I shall call her "Amanda". In the fall of 2006, she was 15. He has had sole custody of her since she was eight years old. She had a rough beginning. Can't argue that. James and her mom, Shawna, married far too young. James was experiencing his own PTSD and was (by my definition) a loose canon. When Amanda was four, her mother called James asking if he could take Amanda and her little brother. You see, Shawna couldn't have children where she was living. I'm not sure I understand that. I once rented a house where I couldn't have pets - but I was never told I couldn't have children.

James was not in a spot where he could do this. He was living with his mom who had another new husband. The new husband said "no" to children also. Consequently, the two kids were placed in foster care.

Over the next four years, these two kids bounced back and forth between Shawna's and foster care. During this time, Shawna also bore a third child. This child was also placed into the foster system. Several times the children were returned to her only to be removed due to her living conditions.

James attended each and every juvenile court appearance with his court appointed attorney. Prior to the hearings the attorney would ask James questions but added nothing to assist him in these proceedings. I have worked for attorneys, court appointed attorneys in juvenile matters. I have to believe James. He has never lied, nor fabricated any story or any event. The more I know him, the more I realize that crazy crap just happens.

James also attended his supervised visitation with the young Amanda. At one visitation, the supervisor asked James to stick around; she had some questions. She marveled at his relationship with Amanda. Commenting that their relationship contradicted everything in her case file. By all "professional" accounts, James had no relationship with Amanda, refused to cooperate, and did nothing on the case plan. She is the one who got the internal ball rolling in assisting James in gaining custody of Amanda. Miraculously, this did happen by the time Amanda was eight. James is proud, yet resentful, that he accomplished this all on his own. For four years, he watched Shawna receive all the assistance from the Social Workers and Case Workers. He claims, and I now believe him, they held her hand every baby step of the way. Each time, she failed. Not just failed, but failed her children.

The day before the permanent custody hearing, James had a meeting with Rebecca McCartney, the Sedgwick County Social Worker who threw every obstacle she could find at James. She informed him that she would recommend to the court that this matter continue on status quo for six more months. At the actual hearing, the next day, Judge Jenny Jones, recognized the accomplishments that James had made and granted him sole custody of Amanda.

James admits that things were good for eight years, until his next child, Winter, was born. Amanda's attitude began to deteriorate. When his next daughter, Trinity, was born less than two years later, Amanda realized that she would never ever be the "only child" and things went quickly downhill.

When I met James in late 2005, Amanda was living with James' mom near Topeka. In March 2006, I officially got to know Amanda. James' mom called late one evening during spring break, demanding that James meet her in El Dorado to pick up Amanda. She had had enough. Amanda had thrown a skate at her new "partner", live-in", whatever. That was the final straw.

Again, things were fine for a time. Amanda was insistent that James find a house in an area where she could attend her high school of choice. He did this. Shortly after school began in the fall of 2006, Amanda made new friends and had a new life. At that time, James had custody of Amanda and her three siblings. A single dad of four. No child support, no parental support, no single dad support, and limited SRS support in the form of daycare and a Vision Card.

Things became intolerable for James in September/October . Each morning he would leave the house by 6:00 a.m. to deliver the kids to daycare and get to work by 7:00. Amanda would ride the bus to and from school. James would get off of work at 3:30. Amanda got off the bus, in front of the house, at 3:25. Each day, James would come home to an empty house. No note, no call, no nothing. He would fix supper and wait for Amanda to return. Each day, he gave the same lecture: that she inform him of "who, where, when, and a phone number". He was surprised to find a note on the door one day. One day. That's it. Just one. James began grounding Amanda, one week at a time. What difference did that make? None. She knew his schedule and what was he going to do to her? She was gone before he got home. Each night. He eventually learned that there were days that Amanda did not go to school. She even went so far as to call in pretending to be me.

Towards the end of December, James called me. He had come home early and watched Amanda get off the bus and head two doors down to her friends' house. He had had enough and was begging for help. My roommate, who works at the Hutchinson Police Department offered the "duh" solution. Call the police. She's not where she's to be; she doesn't have permission to be anywhere BUT home; she's a runaway. So, James called. That night, he had to call three times. She left the house after the first and second call. She ran her mouth prompting the third call. She was taken to the Wichita Children's Shelter.

There were no court hearings. The social worker involved unilaterally decided it was best for Amanda to reside with her mom. Her mom who had never held a job, had no driver's license, no car, lived completely off of SRS. This social worker held a meeting with James explaining that if he did not agree to this arrangement, Amanda would be placed in foster care and James would be liable for $2,400.00 per month in child support. The end. James signed.

Of course, James would learn shortly after that signing that he had been bullied - that there is no way in hell that a single father of 4 who works as a construction framer, who doesn't even gross $2,400 per month could ever be held liable for that amount. But social workers excel at manipulation and taking advantage of their "cases". James even warned this social worker that Amanda did her absolute worse at her mom's. That whatever trouble he had with her would pale in comparison to the trouble she would be in at her mom's. Deaf ears.

James and I had several conversations over the ensuing months about "when" the call would come and what we would do. It came - less than six months later. June 25. We received a phone message from the Sedgwick County Juvenile Intake and Assessment. They had Amanda there and needed James to come and pick her up. Just like that. The exact same song, second verse. Amanda had hit her pregnant mom in the stomach. Yes, the same mom who ultimately lost custody of her first three kids, had two more kids, and was now pregnant with her sixth child; fifth dad. The dad she met on the internet, flew to New York (leaving Amanda home alone for a week), got knocked up, and then planned to move to New York.

From December through June there was no contact from Amanda and very little contact from her mom. She did notify James that she would be moving to New York and Amanda would go with her. We later learned that Amanda absolutely did not want to move to New York. Thus the battery. She backed herself into the corner when she learned that James and the little kids had moved to Hutchinson. After a bucket of tears, three dozen "I'm so sorry daddy"'s, and promises of doing better, James brought Amanda back to Hutchinson. Five of us were living in a two bedroom house. Now there were six.

While Amanda was at JIAC , I was called and we held a phone conference. I asked to speak with Amanda alone. I told Amanda our living arrangement was not ideal; that I did not like it for us or her as I only have a two bedroom house and she would have to reside in the family room for a time. She asked why we moved to Hutch. I told her that my tenants had moved and it would be better and easier to live here and James would drive back and forth to Wichita. I told her there would be rules to follow but that she was absolutely welcome.

When James and Amanda arrived home, I hugged her and told her that I had missed her. I showed her to her “living quarters”, which is the family room with a fold-out couch.

We didn't push Amanda for the first couple of days – wanted to give her time to recoup and regroup. However, Friday, June 30, 15 minutes before the little kids mom arrived to pick them up, Amanda decided she wanted to go with Vanessa as she was her “stepmom for 14 years” and she wanted to see her. James let her go along with strict instructions to both that Amanda was to be with Vanessa the entire weekend and not out of her sight. (NOTE: we discovered months later through Myspace, that Amanda was with friends that entire weekend and not with Vanessa).

The week Amanda arrived, I called Horizon's and requested Rebecca Sandoval-Kennedy for counseling for Amanda (she had been seeing a therapist at Comcare in Wichita). She was scheduled for an intake appointment on July 6.

That first week went pretty smoothly. Amanda settled in and was somewhat helpful and cooperative. However, she continued to sleep until well into the afternoon even after James informed her that his rules had not changed at all. She still needed to get up and help out around the house. Additionally, Amanda wanted to go with Vanessa every other weekend to Wichita. James allowed this with the understanding that Amanda stay with Vanessa the entire weekend.

The weekends Amanda did not go to Wichita, James encouraged her to get a job to start meeting people. Amanda would lie horizontally on the couch the entire weekend. No amount of telling, ordering or yelling would get her up.

Amanda entered into counseling with Rebecca and had several appointments on her own. Each week, Rebecca encouraged James to attend. However, he was working in Wichita and could not. Rebecca scheduled several months in advance in an effort to include James in the appointments. Eventually, James began working in Hutch and was able to attend appointments with Amanda.

Also during this time, James had to deal with Amanda's pending criminal case in Wichita. She had been arrested for shoplifting at Dillards. Venue was transferred to Reno County, she was adjudicated and placed on probation with Joe Hammeke. At her first probation appointment, Joe asked her about drug use. She volunteered that she had smoked pot in 8^th grade. He continued to question her and her story kept changing. He asked her test, she tested positive for THC.

At some point in August or September, Rebecca informed me that we needed to put an end to Amanda's trips to Wichita, that she was doing things that we weren't aware of. I expressed to Rebecca that James and I desperately needed that break. She was understanding but still thought we needed to end those trips. Joe Hammeke also expressed that we end those trips. She went one last time (we didn't want to tip our hand that Rebecca had given us information as well as the little kids previously telling on Amanda) on September 14. When she returned on September 16, she looked like absolute hell. She went straight to bed. On September 17, she claimed she was sick and couldn't go to school. This was her second sick day upon returning from Wichita. I asked her where she was all weekend. She said she was with the kids. I argued that they weren't sick – how could she be. On September 19, I asked her again, where had she been all weekend. She admitted she had been with her friend, Jessica. I asked why she lied to me. She stated she didn't lie. I reminded her that she had told me she was with the kids. She refused to respond. I pressed the issue. She continued to give me the silent treatment. Finally, I told her she would answer my questions or I would bap her upside the head. She responded with, “you touch me, I'll stab you in the throat”. Fortunately, James was still home at this time. I asked if he cared if I called the police or if he had a better idea. He suggested calling Joe Hammeke. So, I called Joe. He said I could call the police but that if I wasn't going to call Family Preservation for assistance, there really wasn't anything he could do. Once I got to work, I called Rebecca who wanted James and I to come in to review Amanda's psych evals that she had taken the previous week. At that time we were informed that Amanda was off the chart suicidal and depressed. The psychologist expressed his extreme concern at the numbers in her evaluation.

On September 20, I again talked to Rebecca over the phone. It was decided that Amanda should be checked into the hospital for treatment either at Hutch Hospital, Prairie View or Good Shepard. When James got off of work, he picked Amanda up from school and took her directly to the hospital. She was not surprised or alarmed. Hutch Hospital was full, so, he ended up taking Amanda to Good Shepard in Wichita.

On September 21, I called SRS to make a report about Amanda threatening me and hoping to get something in place for when Amanda returned home. The lady I spoke with was very nice and took the information and explained that she would type it up and forward it on and someone would contact me the following week. Nobody called.

On or about September 26, I called SRS again as Amanda had been released back home and I felt we had no assistance to move forward. Still no information.

On or about September 28, I called Tina O'Brien directly since we were acquainted on a social basis. She informed me at that time that Hope Fike had been assigned our case. She did not know why she had not called me but would leave a message for her. Hope Fike did call later that morning and I went over all of my concerns again. Hope explained that they would be out within 72 hours of me calling. I told Hope that I wasn't sure of my husbands work schedule. That I would call the following week when I could be sure that he would be home. I called the following Monday or Tuesday. Our first meeting with St. Francis Family Preservation was held on Thursday October 4. We then met with St. Francis each week for two or more hours at a time.

During this time, Amanda was working at Montana Mike's and still making straight A's in school. She had gotten a glowing letter from her Civics teacher about what a great student Amanda was. At home, however, Amanda was following none of the rules, talking rudely to her siblings and dad. Yet still expecting her dad to take her to school and work and pick her up from each. Amanda and I were not speaking unless necessary.

James and I both felt that if Amanda was as extremely depressed as all of the professionals claimed she was, then she needed to make the effort to better herself. I would not take her to school as her attitude at home was in the toilet. The 2 mile walk would not hurt her. It would, however, help ease her depression.

Amanda attended homecoming on October 13. She told James she was going shopping that afternoon. She did not tell him that her boyfriend, Logan, from Wichita, was taking her shopping. I informed James when I learned this. Amanda did not come home from the mall. Rather, she had Logan drop her off at a girlfriends house to get ready. James had asked Amanda what time she'd be home. She said the dance was over around 11:00. Amanda never came home. On Sunday, the 14^th, we called one of the parents before 8:00 a.m. Amanda was not there. She did not return until late that afternoon. In the meantime, James had called the police to make a runaway report. When Amanda returned, she was taken to Bob Johnson's by Officer Campbell.

This was the first of Amanda's trips to RCYS for not calling or coming home. The final call came on November 12 at which time she was taken by Officer Sundahl at James request for being “ungovernable”. On November 13, Joe Hammeke became concerned for Amanda's well being. She was released from RCYS custody to check into Hutchinson Hospital for seven days. Upon her release, she was returned to RCYS and subsequently placed into foster care in Bushton, KS.

On November 12, I received an urgent and serious call from James that I needed to come home immediately. An "anonymous" tip had been called in to SRS that Amanda was being emotionally abused. I came home to find Hope Fike sitting at our kitchen table. She asked a series of weird questions, which we answered. Truthfully. James and I pride ourselves on our honesty and ability to be forthright, sometimes far too honest. This was one of those times. Hope Fike was here for less than one hour.

Within 48 hours of Amanda's release from the Hutch Hospital and back into RCYS, a Temporary Custody hearing was held. James had requested a court appointed attorney. However, one was not provided at this hearing. Sever time delay in getting the paperwork to the attorney who was located two floors down. Sensibly, temporary custody was awarded to SRS.

A week or so later, Heather Lassman with St. Francis Academy, left a message on our home answering machine that she was attempting to schedule a case plan conference and we needed to call her if we were interested in attending. If we were interested in attending, she would schedule that at the end of the work day in an effort to be accommodating. On Friday, December 7, I arrived home around 5:30 and checked the mail. St. Francis had sent notice that the case planning conference would be held at their office on Monday, December 10, at 10:00 a.m. Can you do the math? Friday at 5:30 we receive notice that the accommodating case plan would be held three days later (with a weekend involved) at 10:00 a.m. (after dealing with this circus for six months, I believe that 10:00 a.m IS the end of the workday for these people). I immediately call and leave a voice mail for Heather Lassman that we WANT to be involved but that time is NOT acceptable - please call back. She did call back, Monday afternoon. I'd have to check my phone records (located in the cubic foot box) but I recall that we talked for about 50 minutes. I gave her the highlights of Amanda's life and our current situation. Heather assured me that it was not necessary that we attend the case plan. These are informal and not required. Interesting.

While in Bushton, Amanda had seemingly unlimited internet access and posted several borderline pornographic pictures on her myspace. After alerting James' attorney of these pictures, an Immediate Review was held. The Judge ordered Amanda off of the internet completely if the foster parents would not provide a filter.

I believe that Immediate Review was held in March 2008. In April 2008, another review was held. It was to establish the “kinship” place of Amanda with her “grandmother”. The woman St. Francis was claiming to be grandma is Phyllis Cremer. She is of absolutely no kin to Amanda. This was learned 2 minutes before entering into the court room. Shawna bore two children with Phyllis' son, Anthony. They never even lived together. So, one could say that Phyllis is Amanda's mom's ex-boyfriend's mother. How does that a grandmother make?

Phyllis had expressed to St. Francis that it was ridiculous that Amanda not have internet access. Also, she works during the day, leaving Amanda unsupervised for long hours. Not a wise thing to do with this girl.

The Judge, after learning that Amanda had been removed from two foster homes, was currently in a group home, and, had had an altercation with another girl in that home (in which the police were called), ruled against this placement until such time that Amanda could behave herself. She pointed out that there would be no supervision; that Amanda was still not to be on the internet, especially Myspace. She ordered that Joe Hammeke keep his probation on the back burner until a more permanent placement could be made. James was pleased that the judge had put a stop to this placement.

We received a phone call from Joel Kennedy with St. Francis, the first week in June. He was calling to infom James that Amanda had been moved back to Reno County and was at Bob Johnson's. He apologized for the delay in calling. She had been moved on May 27. The group home in Great Bend had been wanting him to come and get her. He would not until school was out. Apparently they too were having trouble with her.

On June 10 we received a phone call from Bob Johnson's to report that Amanda had run away the day previous, but had since returned. She had been enrolled in summer school and had already met up with 2 other “residents” of Bob Johnson and had left the school with them.

We received a few calls from her family support worker indicating that they needed to come and get the rest of her belongings. We waited patiently, but they never came. Interestingly, we had been hearing that they were coming by to get her things since December.

The first of July we received a letter from St. Francis inviting us to another “case plan” conference on July 11. We went and were stunned. Phyllis was there. It had been decided that Amanda would be placed in “kinship” placement with Phyllis (who is not her kin). Amanda's attorney or GAL, had a change of heart and thought that this was a good idea. Just over two months after the judge denied that placement. They had a grand plan for “independent living” programs through St. Francis is Wichita. We knew better than to say anything out loud to this group of people. The only words we spoke were to make arrangements for the family support worker to pick up Amanda's stuff.

The next day, I visited with Joe Hammeke and informed him of St. Francis' decision and plan to go against everything the judge had ordered. Without our knowledge, he sought out Amanda and had her come in for a UA. A dirty UA. Positive again for marijuana.

I spoke with Amanda's Guardian Ad Litem. He had just gotten off of the phone with Joe Hammeke and agreed that Amanda should not live with Phyllis. I asked this attorney what possessed him to change his mind and allow this placement. Did he not know that she's been on “My Space”; that she was reported as a runaway; that the group home placement had been begging for her to be taken out because she refused to cooperate while there? He knew none of this. All reports to him by St. Francis indicated that she was doing well and “getting along” as the Judge had ordered. Hmph.

After expressing our total anger to one another, it occurred to me that James should make a police report. Afterall, St. Francis had “contributed to a child's misconduct” and was guilty of “endangering a child”. I reviewed the statutes. James made a police report directly with a juvenile detective. He has investigated as thoroughly as he can. Not an easy task with dealing with St. Francis and SRS. He is not yet done investigating. However, when I asked if the thought our juvenile prosecutor would act on any of this he gave the response I expected. “Honestly, no.”.

I believe the matter will die here. Amanda turns 18 in November. St. Francis just wants her off of their case load. We are aware that we can talk about this all day long and say whatever suits us. The purpose of putting this in writing is to tell our side of this story. Nobody has asked. SRS and St. Francis have been allowed to put their lies in writing. I have a cubic foot of documents and reports. Someday, I shall sit and highlight what is not true in what they say. I may make my own corrections to their version. SRS and St. Francis will not be allowed to comment or defend themselves. Some may say this writing is a product of “sour grapes”. That we are bitter at the substantiation of emotional child abuse. We are bitter. Extremely bitter.

One dip shy of a full cone

There is nothing so carefree and innocent as a two year old boy eating his very first ice cream cone. I bought my two year old grandson, Damian, his first ice cream cone for his second birthday. The earnest curiosity on his face was spellbinding for this grandma. The way he looked at the top of his ice cream....touched the cone to the center of his tongue....then looked up with those glittery blue eyes. The magic of your first ice cream!

I started to relate this story to my mom who had been traveling after the death of my dad. I say started because she interrupted me to scold, "I thought I taught you better than that". One infamous Tori story is the day that I discovered ice cream came in other cones - not mine.

My folks and grandparents would often take an evening out and head to Baskin Robins 31 Flavors. Grandpa and dad in the front; mom, me and grandma in the back. I don't recall if we all went in or just the menfolk. I also don't recall this story which is odd because there are several stories of me as a toddler that I do remember. At any rate, everyone was in the car with me in the back between mom and grandma. No car seat. No seatbelt. It's told that I looked at my cone - the expectant tike that I was - then I looked at my moms cone. Puzzlement came over my little angel face. I turned quickly to look at grandma's cone. Puzzlement turned into shear bewilderment. I was in a full blown panic. I looked at my cone again and then started to cry.

SOMEONE HAD STOLEN THE ICE CREAM OUT OF MY CONE!

My mom hoooohaaaaa's until she cries when she tells this story. She always has to explain that my grandma thought of this little trick to keep me from smearing ice cream from one end of the car to the other - head to toe, back to front. She also likes to describe me as being 11 or 12 when I discovered this rather than 3 or 4. What a dirty trick to play on an innocent.

Huh...

Three years ago today I sent a mass email entitled "huh" to 50 people in my address book. I had no idea that I knew 50 people. Turns out, that was the max number of addresses I could send one email to. Consequently, I had to send the "huh" email twice! Those in my address book included attorney's, clerks, judges, my boss, friends, and family. The soul of the email explained the birthday surprise that I received at approximately 3:00 a.m. on July 17, 2005.

It really began on July 16. I had the most amazing summer party in my short history of summer parties. Over 100 in my dream home, clustered in groups in my dream backyard. I had old friends, family friends, school chums, co-workers, cops, lawyers, kids, hockey fans. It was the embodiment of who makes "me". We had bbq and pot-luck. I had a 3,000 cup coffee maker and a margarita machine. The tequila flowed. My dining room looked like a liquor store having a garage sale.

I still hope that everyone had a great time. I would imagine that anyone who stays a party until 2 a.m. or so is having a good time.

The moment my life changed still haunts me. The man who promised to love me - the friend I thought I would grow old with - the partner I had just bought my dream house with created a defining moment for me. A moment my critics probably laughed at. Judging that I deserved that moment. Perhaps I did. But little do they know - or care - the impact it's had on me.

Imagine the audacity, the utter gall of a friend begging to spend the night. Too messed up to drive home. This same friend, carefully constructing, delicately breeding a sexual tension with another woman's partner. Dancing her desire around his aging machismo.

Yeah, my skanky twat friend hit hard on Ernie. He wasn't a victim. It wasn't his first indiscretion. But it was most definitely his boldest. I heard him slide out of our bed, sneak out of our bedroom. I saw him pause in the doorway and look back on me. I saw him turn into the hallway.

I continued to lay there, not breathing. Not moving. Oh hell no. The confusion crashed down. I'm not a stupid girl. Or am I? I crept through the house. Quietly taking the long way around. Stopping at the guest room door. Alerting them with the creak of the floor. I held my breath as I'm sure they held theirs. I should have waited. A few moments more.

I want...

to know how to get to prison.
someone to explain the real reason for irony and apathy.
my critics to explain to me, in simple words, what is wrong with me.
to know if "the problem with kids these days" is a childhood script of Ritalin given for the wrong reason.
those i love to like me less.
a new pair of flops
a pedicure
an espresso in a 48 oz mug
my hot nodule back
my yard mowed
my daughter to graduate
to know why a "behaviorist" is passive aggressive; without the passive
to know why I'm so passionate about....um...oops
time. more time.

Oh the shit I get to hear

I miss working at Stutzman's. The people I met there had no tales of trouble. Well, unless dust mites are a real problem. And if they are - I need a life where the only trouble is dust mites.

Today I worked for brief time on a child support matter. There's a man who lives in New Mexico. And since this is my blog, I won't be politically correct. So, let me begin again.

There's a Mexican man who lives in New Mexico (OMG...now THAT is funny) who has recently acquired residential custody of his son. This man asked me about his child support and why is he still paying. Well, he's still paying because there's an Income Withholding Order generated by a Court Order for Child Support. A court order generated by the Kansas Department of SRS. So, because I'm dutiful, I begin working on an order switching custody from mom to dad. And then, I look closely at the child support this man has paid. It appears, that he's overpaid a few dinero short of $2,500. Eleven months ago, SRS filed some bullshit "Renewal" order stating that this individual still owed $266 in past due support. My biggest obstacle is that the mom left the State of Kansas for a few years and child support was paid for and received in two different states. Now that is going to take some time to sort out. I can't WAIT to try and reach someone within the social systems of the state's of Oklahoma and New Mexico.

There's another young man, who, quite frankly, is a drain on the system. He's one of the most vile individuals in Reno County. Unfortunately, he too has a child support issue. He lives with his baby momma. Baby Momma doesn't receive assistance from SRS. But a few years ago SRS did become involved and nailed this guy for child support. It doesn't matter how many times Baby Momma calls SRS to explain the situation, vile dad still has to pay. Granted the money all ends up in the same spot. It sure seems silly to me and a drain of resources.

Then there's the young lady who is in the Reno County jail. She can't break up with her lover, Cocaine. She has a 6 month old and a one and a half year old. They're in foster care, she's in jail. She wants out of jail, to attend out patient treatment. And I'm supposed to believe that.

About my Dad

Two old guys are traveling down the highway. Deep in debate. Each touting the merits of the Ford versus Chevy. Suddenly, they spy a car on the side of the road. Hood up, smoke pouring out. As if to drive his point home, one ole' guy exclaims....”Looky there...a Ford with a Chevy motor”

Dad would be a bit upset that so many had put aside their Saturday plans to pay respects to dad. He felt funerals barbaric and were for the living. Since he was so busy living – he would grump about taking time to attend a funeral.

Several words can be used to describe Dad, Glen, Big Glen, Big G, Silver. He was intelligent, opinionated, strong, funny, arrogant. One word I cannot use to describe him is genuine. He was not always as he presented himself. In fact, underneath his burly, gruff, argumentative exterior, he was quite soft, tender, loving, and loyal. He either liked you or he didn't and most often – people thought they fell into the latter category. He would be humbled to see so many here. A bit sheepish upon realizing that so many would take the time to say good-bye.

As a young lad, my dad saved his hard earned money and bought his first gun. We're supposing it was a Daisy Red Rider BB Gun. Dad learned early on the responsibility of owning a fire arm. Not long after acquiring this high powered weapon, he shot his brother, my Uncle Milton, in the leg. Not a smooth move. The race was on. Milton was bigger but dad was faster. Dad liked to say that Milton was darn lucky that day because dad couldn't pump and run at the same time. My grandmother intervened saving Milton from another shot and saving dad from being pummeled by his older brother. What she did next would haunt dad the rest of his life. She confiscated the weapon and later reported to dad that she burned it. He never believed her but he never found the gun.

Mom, my sisters, and I are aware that we are not the only ones experiencing loss and broken hearts. His sister, Janine, may finally be able to forgive him for stealing her special perfume when she was little. This wasn't just plain thievery. He loaded the perfume into his water gun. Janine is certain that she got to wear the perfume after all.

When my sisters, were little, dad always found a way to disappear on Saturday's. He had “errands” to run. Guy stuff like going to the dump. Mom was overjoyed when she learned that I, too, loved going to the dump with dad. The passenger seat of his pickup was a coveted spot on Saturday mornings.

As I got older and lost interest in the dump, Mandi took my seat in the truck. Being the baby – she must have been dad's favorite because he took her to garage sales, calling her his “Little Left Hand Girl”.

He took all of us fishing at different times. One particular time, he musta lost a bet with mom or was in big trouble with her...he took all three of my sisters to Cessna's lease for a fishing adventure. And what an adventure it was. Megan was an eager and chatty girl. Not the makings of a pro fisherchild. But she had a gift. He spent hours that day baiting her hook, and unhooking her bluegill...fish after fish after fish she caught. If we could have had a meal of bluegill – it would have been a feast! We have no idea if Mandi or Toni caught a thing! Another fishing trip involved Mandi and a 5 ½ pound catfish. Now THAT woulda been a feast. But Mandi didn't want to hurt the fish and made him throw him back.

As we grew older, we began to realize that the stress of living with all those girls got to dad. We thought he was the meanest man alive. All of our laughing, crying, playing......he couldn't take a day without bellowing at us – the younger 3 for having fun – me for antagonizing them. Looking back, I wonder if he wasn't having a reaction to all those hormones and estrogen surrounding him.

No matter how “mean” we thought he got – we always knew but never took for granted the fact that this man had our back. He would not hesitate to come to our rescue – at school and through our own personal mistakes. One school story involves Megan, Buhler High School's “Zero Tolerance Policy” and a 3” pocket knife she ordered out of a comic book some 5 years prior. No matter how badly we messed up, he was always there to help us pick up our pieces.

I remember our childhood as pretty ordinary. Each day, dad went to work, came home and would kiss mom in greeting. Saturday nights were their date nights. Dad would bathe, listen to his 33's, and douse himself in British Sterling.

As we all left home, mom and dad began to do a bit of traveling. He would grumble about it – but I sure haven't seen a picture yet where he looks too miserable.

I saw my dad broken hearted one time. In the prairie fire of '94, he lost his 69 Cobra, 40 ford and tractor. He lost countless oil jars, tools, and other antique treasures acquired during his Saturday morning adventures. We felt his loss but could not ease that pain.

My dad had a quick and dry wit. We couldn't possible list all of his quotes and quips but our favorite is: Are we here to kick tires or are we here to buy guns

My Uncle Hal's favorite is: Vick...don't drink the water. This came about after his trip to the island of Utila in Honduras. Our big strong sure footed dad fell into the cistern.

Thank you mom, once again, for your dedication to dad. For your constant care and determined persistence the past couple of years. Your vigilance has made us all proud.

Father's Day will forever have new meaning for my sisters and I. Upon reflecting, we can remember no particular special gift. The only constant gift to dad was British Sterling Aftershave. One time, Mandi went overboard and gave dad a box of tic tacs, but that was for his birthday! Our meaning of father's day has been greatly altered. We can now appreciate and accept all of the gifts our dad gave to us.

Mommy Bloggers

I'm not much on mommy bloggers. The earliest memory I have of not liking anything "mommy" was when my oldest was born. I had no desire to share all of the birthing stories, pictures, nightmares, questions...what-have-you. Hopefully, any friend I may have had who also gave birth but who relished in reliving the 3 to 83 hour labor drama with me, did not notice how much physical pain I was in listening. I have always been able to escape these re-living of memories. Sometimes not always tactfully or gracefully. This is partly why I've found my own blog a bit comforting. I may stop calling my two dearest friends, Angel and Marsha, to screech my latest crisis. I may, someday, be able to call just to ask about their day.

The latest mind-boggling episode occurred yesterday, Mother's Day 2008. I refuse to alter any names to protect the "innocent". If someone wants to nail me for libel, feel free to prove me wrong and yourself right.

James had suggested to Vanessa (the mother of the "little kids") that they may be able to spend the weekend with her. In light of Winter's recent lying about me and Trinity eagerly agreeing with the lie, James opted to keep them home. Vanessa did not seem disappointed but mentioned that if she could find the money, she would like to see them on Sunday. I'm not sure where one looks for money. But it apparently wasn't there. The kids never once asked to call her; didn't mention her at all. She called around 4 and left a pitiful message on the machine urging the kids to call her to make her feel better. Give me a living break. She has only to provide for herself. She pays no child support, reimburses no court ordered expenses, offers not one thin dime. She has one husband in her household and she can't find the money to see her kids on Mother's Day. James and I provide 100% for these kids and he still has to drive to Wichita daily. Maybe we should find the time to look for money.

This is her third consecutive Mother's Day that she has gone putting forth no effort and making no self sacrifice to see her kids. Two years ago, I offered to take the kids to her. All she had to do was call when she was ready. She never called.

I learned just this morning from James that yesterday was Baby James' birthday. James felt terrible for being so cranky all day and not knowing why. He felt even worse for forgetting this important day. It made perfect sense to both of us that his subconscious was kicking his ass. It also made perfect sense that Vanessa would want the kids to call to make her feel "better". It makes absolutely NO sense that Vanessa step up and spend a free day with the children she does have. No, it's the responsibility of the kids.

As a footnote: Baby James is James' son who died at the age of two. I can't talk about it - I don't think about it. It's the only pain that James feels that I am not ready to address. I may never be.

Cups

My lone reader suggested today that she visited my blog hoping that I had added something. I have not. Again - the process of transferring thought to fingertips is daunting and I'm having extreme difficulty working up the ambition. It just seems too "hard".

The CHL hockey season has drawn to a close. Finally. It was a climatic end, if you're an Arizona Sundog fan. Which I could be and certainly leaned that way after Tyler Leibel was traded for...um...who? Yeah. But, they knocked the Colorado Eagles out of their perch, which caused some conflict in my bedroom. My loving husband who, with all his strength, is a closeted Eagle fan. I'm pretty sure he owes me serious favors as "my" team won the cup! Not this cup:

But another cup.







Speaking of cups...Dallas is having their asses handed to them by Detroit. Am I surprised? Nope. Am I disappointed? Yep. Detroit is serious in their quest for this cup:

Veering from cups, but still with hockey. The Goalie Amp commercial provides me with 30 seconds of sheer child-like glee. Most other hockey commercial are so serious. They exhibit the dedication the boys have. jeez...throw in more "yo momma" lines!

Who I met this week

I met Annie, and Wanda, and David.

Annie...
was a little woman I encountered pushing a cart of roses at Stutzman's (stutzmans.com). She had 3 to 5 roses along with some other flowering beauties. Annie stood about 4 feet tall and made me feel like Amazon woman. I loved that feeling and now know how my sisters feel standing next to me. I pushed her cart up the ramp and was surprised at how heavy it was. After checking her out (no, taking her money for the roses...I don't check out little old ladies), I helped her to her car. I asked who was in charge of the shovel once she got home. Her response: "Well, I guess I am. I'm the only one there." This really surprised me because she seemed so old (to be blunt). I then had to know; couldn't live without knowing. "Ma'am, I must be rude and ask: How old are you?" She looked (up) at me at grinned. "I'm 90 and a half. My birthday is July 25."

I learned she was born south of Oklahoma City, had 8 siblings, and her mother died at 107. She lives approximately 41 miles from Stutzman's and had driven herself there, perched on a pillow placed on her car seat!

She was a tough lil thing and I can only wish that I could keep up with her on a good day.

Wanda...
Is an Amish convert. She loves to cook and brings cookies into the greenhouse to share. Just because. I learned that Wanda was born to a "prostitute". Not sure if she was a bonafide working girl or a substance addicted woman who performed favors for fixes. I believe there is a difference. Wanda was removed from her mother and placed in a home. She was ultimately adopted by a family whose father was a writer and wrote about the Amish community. Wanda become enthralled with this life and now lives it completely. Bless her and the chance she was given.

David...
Is a good looking young man who came in buying veggie plants. I didn't have much time to visit with him but happened to get his number to call for eggs! He turned me on to a place where I can buy fresh milk for $2.00 a gallon. WOW! David is a young farmer with 9...NINE kids!! He didn't look old enough to secure a license to handle explosives.

And the unknown...
A young Amish mother was in with her 4 kids buying 2 packets of seeds. Her kids were so extremely well behaved and I complimented her on that. I was struck with how she spoke to them - as though everything they had to say was worth hearing. She treated them as young people. She thanked me for the compliment and noted it was a good reminder not to take their behavior for granted. I mentioned that I have three step kids and frequently forget the "patience" part of their childhood. Upon leaving she gave me a blessing that brings a little salt to the eyes. She said, "My you have a blessed evening with your family". Laying in bed that night it occurred to me that we had a very peaceful evening with the kids. Her blessing worked. I hope I see her again to thank her.

A Short Gas Tale

After my Dillon's experience, I then had to continue on with the Kroger family and visit the Kwik Shop. My poor husband needed gas before he left for work this morning at 6:00 a.m. So I grabbed the gas can (not trusting fumes alone to carry James to Wichita) and began to fill. I screamed in my head when some of this liquid gold splashed out of my can. I frantically searched in my head for a way to recapture the drops from the pavement; none came. So I wept as though I had tossed a handful of quarters down a black hole.

Mission accomplished, I looked at my total for filling a gas can. $12.98. I used to be able to fill an entire car tank (tho' not in Bush years) on $12.98. Nearly thirteen friggin' dollars to fill a GAS CAN. Sighing, I made my way in to pay. We all know the drill..."Welcome to Kwik Shop" mumbles the clerk, without looking up from his customer, paperwork, stocking duty. What I actually heard was "Welcome to Kwik Shop....now pay for your dry ass fucking". I am still sore in my bottom area after paying $12.98 to fill a stinking gas can.

On my way home, I figured out the "welcome to Kwik Shop" and why it makes me feel like an intruder. If someone were to come into my home without calling first, without knocking, I would have a difficult time making them feel welcome. "Welcome to my home", I would say without turning from my Jewel Quest game or looking up from scrubbing my kitchen sink.

Well hell, now that I think it ALL the way through...I give those Kwik Shop clerks hard earned money when I walk in there unannounced. Now, if anyone were to walk into my home unannounced and uninvited and give me money for whatever I may have....a hockey puck scattered by one of "the boys", a throw pillow that doesn't match anything I own, can you imagine what kind of welcome I would give them? Shit...thought I had it figured out. I don't.

I think I got dumber at Dillons

Last night I had to make a late stop at my local Dillon's. My husband and I had taken turns the night before hacking to harsh gagging points and he had humbly asked me to get some cough syrup. We were also out of coffee, creamer, and sweetener. At 10:15 pm I make the assigned stop with not much glee in my heart. Mostly dread because I knew funds were low and hate the thought of "declined" coming across the credit card machine. I select the Kroger equivalent to Dayquill and Nightquill.

On a side note: the "twofer" pack of Kroger brand 'quills cost roughly 75.8 cents per ounce. Individually, they cost $3.49 each or roughly 58.6 cents per ounce. READ YOUR COSTS!!

I then find my way to the sweetener (for my Sweet), creamer and coffee; noticing the same poor Dillon's customer in the same spot in line as I saw on my way in. I take quite some time in choosing coffee due to the shock of Dillon's ever changing and confusing "per ounce" prices. I make my selection, add the approximate cost of my goods and make my way to the checkout. I am surprised to see the same gentleman in line. Not sure of his issue - but the "checker boy" had to call in two reinforcement teenage managers to back him in his explanation.

When scanned, my total was $25.19. Much more than I had estimated but I'm not a quick thinker, nor a quick reactor. When I'm in line to pay I am struck as stupid as Kroger needs me to be. I swipe and go. But this time I looked at my receipt upon exiting and find "checker boy" has charged me for a total of four, yes 4, Kroger equivalent 'quills. Not the two that are in my blue plastic bag.

I swing around and notice one of the two "reinforcements" and approach boldly. She leads me to the long closed customer service desk which is manned by a 12 year old. I explain the error. He repeats my story back to me. Then asks if I can return "tomorrow". I still have to shake my head clear...."No, I cannot come back tomorrow. The mistake was made now, I need it fixed now". Twelve year old explains that there is no "refund" option to apply the overage back to my card. But, he offers, he can give me cash. I'm thinking that cash is perfectly acceptable. Twelve year old slaps down $6.98 and says "here you go". This still isn't setting well in my math deficient brain. If I were to have purchased only two bottles of generic 'quills, the total would have been over 7.8% more than $6.98. So, like a cranky old woman, I ask about the tax. He hid his eye rolling when he said, "That's why I wanted you to come back tomorrow". WHAT? WTF? I then told him he could go ahead and add the tax to the $6.98 and refund that also. He rounded up to .50. I said thanks. I was tired when I went in and absolutely exhausted when I left.

Virgin Blogging

Titles are easy. Thoughts are random and disjointed. In my head is a giant Salvador Dali. I need a USB port behind my ear to transfer to the WORLD all of the fascinating stories I hold. Some stories may even hold a lesson or two.

I find that the process of transferring thought to fingers to keyboard is one of those projects that may sound good (in my head). Just as landscaping my yard (the picture is in my head and it will never ever escape); learning to play the banjo; preparing, from scratch, tiramisu; and anything else that requires more than a two step process....all requires too much focus, concentration, and attention from me. Can't do it. Attention span left long ago. I can't even read a book. When did I succumb to adult ADD? Will this help? Will I be able to unravel and untangle the constant high speed stream running through my matter? Will I have the dedication to "write" as my husband has been begging me to do for 2 and a half years? Before he loved me he asked me to write his story. It may not be told here...but told it will be.

Speaking of my husband, everything held here is a tribute to him. It may not be apparent but I hold him tenderly in my heart always. If it weren't for him, I would have nothing to say that matters.