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.