I wasn't voted off the island, er...uh...blog yet!

I made it to round three of voting for the top blogs of 2010! Holy cow! So the voting continues. Round three votes are this week, until next Friday at 6pm. Cool.

I am still just shocked that I was nominated at all- thank you Evil Pixie- and even more stunned that people keep voting for me. that is so cool!

Thank you all so much. Please keep voting for me! This is awesome!

Maggie

Random post that might not be worth reading

Tonight is the last night, in the next 35 minutes (I think) to vote for my blog for one of the top 25 of 2010. You can go to the Blog Guidebook and vote for me, if you want. This is round 2. If I get enough votes to go on, I'll be begging again next week for me.

I knit a hat for a boy here at Alcatraz. Mac saw it and took it and claimed it as his. Even though I've offered to make him one and he repeatedly says he doesn't want one. So I go and make this kid one and suddenly Mac has to HAVE one. Teenage sons are a pain in the...

Why in the world would a grown adult man with on probation, who had served time in prison on drug charges, who is now out and free, shop lift a $4.99 flashlight from Best Buy? Because he's stupid, if my best guess.

I know I haven't talked about my new job, but I will. It's just been so crazy lately. I've been using stuff I've saved in my blogging archives because I've been so busy and haven't felt much like writing, only because I'm so tired. When the muse strikes, I'm not where I can actually "write" anything. I've been working all three of my jobs, plus hanging with family and friends and am just tired.

Speaking of jobs and being tired, I am exhausted right now. So this feeble post is all your get from me today. I know, so very weak. But if it makes you feel better, I'm actually working in my weekend secretary position right this second, after a full day of work at the library. So I am tired. And, apparently I'm whiny and not very creative. I am not kidding you. I'm sitting here trying to remembered what I've blogged this week. I need to go back and look at it because I have 4 things I was going to write about but I can't remember if I REALLY wrote them or if I've thought about it so much that I THOUGHT I did it. I am so tired. Even worse, I actually thought I had already blogged today. Imagine my surprise when I looked at little while ago and saw no post. And then when I looked to see if I had anything scheduled and there was nothing. I think I might need a day off.

So, I leave you with this Christmas joke:

What do sheep say to each other at Christmastime?

Merry Christmas to ewe!

Bwahahahahahahaha,
Maggie

Flashback to Ear Hell

A month before my 9th birthday I finally convinced my folks to let me get my ears pieced. I was totally and completely excited at the prospect. I dreamed of my ears adorned with sparkly little studs, cute hoops and adorable earrings that were lady bug, turtles, frogs and other animals because this was the extreme early 80's when that shit was "like, totally radical, dude." When I got my ears pierced I was gonna be beautiful and cool and look totally just like Jamie Summers, the Bionic Woman, even though I was 9 and had short brown hair and was human and built like a boy and not bionic. But otherwise, I would be totally just glamorous, and look just like her.

So finally, one Saturday afternoon in August mom and I go to a local jewelry story to have this done. This was in the olden days when people who got their ears pierced had to keep the original studs in the ears for 30 days, for the healing process to be complete. My folks thought if we did a month before, then I could wear new earrings on my birthday- any cute little ones I got as gifts.

We walk into the most beautiful store ever, or at least in my mind is was glamorous. It had soft lighting and a huge chandelier. The rows and rows of glass cases were shiny and gleaming. The carpet was thick and plush and a deep red burgundy and I sank to my knees in the stuff. We were at a classy joint and I was to behave like a "little lady" that my parents raised me to be.

No problem. I was all about being classy and grown up. I whispered and was polite. I might've curtsied at the man in the dashing suit who asked "if he could help us". Mom tells him I wish to have my ears laden and bespeckled with jewels from the most famous South American diamond mines and to break the Hope Diamond into pieces so they could bedeck my ears... or something like that...she conveyed I needed to get my ear's pierced for my birthday.

We were escorted to a cafe style chair with gleaming brass and burgundy cushion. I climbed onto my pedestal, and awaited for the anointing of my ears. First, a woman jewelry store sales person came to aid us in the ear piercing rite of passage and the man in the suit departed. She was beautiful and wearing the finest jewelry money could buy. She wore fancy clothes and perfectly coiffed hair. She wore full makeup, on a Saturday afternoon, no less! She was a goddess.

The Goddess of Ear Piercing swabbed one of my soon to be queenly earlobes with alcohol. She took a felt tipped marker and made a small dot on my ear lobe. My mother approved the future placement of where said earrings would go. Then this creature of beauty showed me a tray of earrings. Hoops and studs. Colors and plain. Ah the choice, the choice! I would have to live with these for a month, a whole month. What to pick? The options seemed limitless. They sparkled. They shined. They were perfection on a velvet covered tray. Finally after much deliberation (and prodding from my mother) I selected the sapphire gold studs. After all I was a September baby and what was more regal that such a brilliant blue stone that would flash in the sun light? Then the saleswoman took out a gun. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. A gun. My Jewelry store Goddess became Rambo and the Terminator all rolled into one. I swear she morphed before my very eyes, becoming dirty and smudged and the sounds of a helicopter hovered in the background as she adjusted her Rambo like beret and belly crawled across the store in her camos. I started shaking and quaking. I was sweating. She grabbed my earring from her bandoleers and snapped the earring of choice into the chamber. She took aim with her weapon and pulled the trigger, never once flinching at my scream of terror.

All hell broke loose at this point. I screamed bloody murder. I thought I was going to die. I thought she drove a railroad spike through my ear. All my ladylike intentions were gone. I cried. I yelled. I might have bitten her arm. And I scrambled off the chair and ran toward the exit of the chamber of horrors, hoping I would be airlifted out of this jungle of Viet Cong. But the evil man in the suit whose name tag I finally noticed read "Head Executioner" and who obviously took pleasure in torturing young children grabbed me as I tried to make my hasty retreat. I begged, begged, begged my mother to make it all stop. I had a huge, big ol' royal hissy fit right there in the store.

Now this was the very, very, early '80's before Billy Idol or Don Johnson and Miami Vice made one earring cool and my mother was NOT going to let her almost 9 year-old daughter go around with one ear pierced. It took my mother and the Executioner to hold me fast to the electric chair while his Ear Piercing Terminator Minion welded the weapon to my other ear and again plunged another stake into my poor, fragile ear lobe. She smiled wickedly at my writhing in pain little body.

I survived my POW camp. My ears were bright flaming red for days and I wore my scars with pride, waiting for my Metal of Honor to arrive. Yet the tale of woe doesn't end here with my freedom from that hell. Oh, no. My ear got infected. Every night my mom (or dad if mom was ready to kill me because of my slight whiningness) cleaned my infected ear and turned the earring. I howled in pain as the puss oozed out of my ear lobe. I couldn't change my earrings on my 9th birthday. I was positive I was going to have my ears fall off so I started learning sign language and finger spelled everything in preparation. I thought for sure I was I was going to be sent to a deaf school like the blind one Mary Ingalls had to go to when she went blind in a freakish Very Special Little House on The Prairie moment. I thought I was going to be the next Helen Keller. Alas, the gangrene didn't take, and my ears remained affixed to my head, even to this very day. By Christmas I was able to change my earrings without grimacing in pain.

I still suffer Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from this experience and the Veteran's hospital cut me off but I still go to support groups at the VEP (Veteran Ear Piercers) Hall to share the personal terror of having my ears pierced in an effort to save others from the same horrific experience. I've developed a 12 step program for others like me. Donations to my not -for- profit are always welcome and for $10 a month we can save a whole African village from being pierced. Please Help.

And that is the totally true tale of how Maggie got her ears pierced. Do I dare share the story of my first tattoo?

Mags

Modern day pen and ink

People who write often have a profound connection with others who share the same passion for words, for they drip from our lips like honey and the ink flows across the page filled with our hearts desires, secrets, passions and even our mundane nothing thoughts.

There are the non -writers in the world who don't understand the profound effect the power of the pen can have. Words can be welded like a weapon and used for good or evil. The outpouring of words from a writer allows reader and writer to have a bond like no other. Writers connect with each other through the written word- it's our craft, we want to reach people, to touch people, to create emotions... and sometimes, the non-writer just doesn't understand this.

This is a huge idea, even a poetic one, but a true one. Let's look at letters. I always wax poetic about letters, famous love letters. These are kept and bound in books and shared as a part of history. Writing these letters is a way to express every part of a person. I love to look at letters as a form of history and I even collect books of letters from love letters to war letters to famous correspondence between famous lovers. The words dance across the page and stir within us a need to purge our soul to another, even if it's merely a re -accounting of daily events. The written word in a letter carries joys and sorrows to another who is thousands of miles away.

Words can fuse people together. Those who have never met can feel a tie to another just through words. I read an immense amount of books and I swear I could "fall" for the character of Ranger in the Stephanie Plum (I would be friends with her, too) book series. I have the hots for Atticus Kodiak, another book character. I think Atticus Finch could be considered one of the best fathers of all times. These are fictional people whom I shall never meet since they are the mind's creation, but the power of the author's words, voice, style, mind leads me to be attracted to fictional men.

Look at bloggers. This is a world where a writer can make friends. Actual real friends. Yes, because we are all writers and have the absolute power of the scribe at our fingertips. Our craft allows us to make others laugh or cry or be angry. We tune in to our favorite bloggers for a good laugh or to see if someone is feeling better. We cheer on these total strangers in their quests for happy lives. We bare the details of our lives for all the world to see. We become encapsulated by some, and weary and wary of others. We want to see who had a baby, how the divorce is progressing, who found a job, moved across the country, share a recipe, nominate each other for top blogger (please vote for me), and to see if someone is just having a better day... We feel for others in the world of writing: we share emotions with these strangers who are miles, states, countries and worlds apart from us.

I have a bunch of lurkers- why do you folks come here? I mean really-I never thought I was interesting enough for strangers to read my life saga daily but apparently some people out there want to know what wacky Lucy Ricardo thing I'm going to end up doing next.

We bloggers have formed a community and are forming bonds and friendships that can lead to anything from reading to comments to emails to phone calls to visits. Some even marry or find romance. Many bloggers meet each other for fun. Some people think blogging friendships are strange... I dunno, I think it just makes sense. The people in my blog world know as much, or maybe more, about me than my non-blogging friends. It seems like a safe place to be myself. I like this forum. I like it as a writer, as a blogger, and as me. The power of the pen is a force to be reckoned with.

Maggie

The battle through the 30 truths continues with Days 18-23

As you all know I'm trying to get through it, sticking to it, not giving up, showing perseverance, of the 30 days of truth, even though I don't wanna. And though I was given good advice that I don't have to finish it if I don't want, I still have the Midwest ethic of never giving up. So here goes:

Day 18- your views of on gay marriage
I have one view- support it, legalize it,

Day 19- What do you think of religion? Or politics?
I try to not think of either very often. My family always said to not talk about either in public, at the table or with strangers because it wasn't polite.

Day 20- Your views on drugs and alcohol.
I view both with pleasure. I support both. I think marijuana should be legal and I like to drink. A lot and often.

Day 21- Your best friend got into an accident one hour after you had a fight. What do you do?
Go to her. She's my best friend, fight be damned. Who cares?

Day 22- Something you wish you hadn't done in your life.
Repetitive as I answered this already- married SD.

Day 23- something you wish you had done in your life.
Married AlaskaSam all those years ago when I had the chance.

Road trip goofs

I will post later today. All I have in me is to say that yesterday I drove my first transport for Alcatraz. It means I picked up kids from their home visits and dropped them back at Alcatraz.

I drove 594 miles on Sunday.

I had a major exit on a major Interstate CLOSED. In the middle of construction. In the dark. With a car full of sleeping kids. (It was good they were sleeping because none of them could read a map anyway... I found that out later!)

I drove through downtown of the state capital during the middle of NFL game traffic.

I missed a turn and had to back track 20 minutes; I don't know how many miles that is, but it was a pain in the butt.

I turned the wrong way on a one way. When I discovered what I did, I fixed my error. In front of a sheriff. Who then followed me for about 6 blocks. He never pulled me over. Thank god.

And as we pulled in the parking lot at Alcatraz, after being in the car for about 12.5 hours, one of the kids spilled a milkshake on her, the car seat, the floor. So I cleaned all that up, filled the car with fuel and returned it.

I almost ran out of gas. To the point where the gas light was BLINKING at me as I rolled into the gas station. Talk about panicked. I can't imagine having to call and explain that one.

I am tired. I need sleep. But I made money. I made 10 bucks an hour. But I'm still tired. Princess rocked.

Ugh.

Maggie

Good news!

Mac applied to 6 colleges and now is the waiting. Well, he finally got his first acceptance letter! (Please don't be his last!) and we are thrilled. I blogged about the school that treated him like a rock star- well, that's the one he got in, so far. Yay him!

And the good news on the Mac and school continues. Not only did he get into School 1, but they gave him a scholarship: $20,000, broken into 4 years of $5k each. OMG! I am so excited! he opened hi letter, told us he got in and we all jumped around, high fived and hugged. then later, like an hour, I pick up the letter to read it. There's an attachment explaining the award. I about fell over. He missed that the first time around. Even sweeter!

I worked at Alcatraz at the library last week and it was so good to be back. I hate that my friend who was the librarian won't be working there any more, but am thrilled I will be. It was completely insane and crazy, though, because she was trying to train me AND wrap up her book fair, but it was so very very good to be back. I'm sure I'll have more to report later!

My last piece of good news is about the top 25 blogs of 2010. I made the first cut! Thanks to all of you who voted for me during round one. The voting continues. So please go and vote for me again. It starts all over again with new votes. So we have to all go do it again. I would appreciate it if you would give me some more voting love. Just click the button in my side bar, please!

What a great day!
Maggie