I am currently experiencing a milestone in life. Tomorrow Amazon.com or whoever their actually fiduciary douches are will begin the process of direct depositing my first royalty check! It's for January sales on both my self-published Kindle books (Saving Alexandria and Guardian of Dreams... hint hint hint) and it's a whopping $20.93... but yet it's MY $20.93 earned in royalties on something I wrote and published and people cared enough to buy.
This, like the publishing process itself, is exciting and at the same time terrifying. Where do I go from here? There are more books to come, some finished, some nearly finished, some barely begun, and without a publisher I can make them available at my leisure. So again I ask, where do I go from here? I have someone who has offered to help me develop a "web presence" which sounds extremely intriguing and yet terrifying at the same time.
The ultimate question is how far do I want to put myself out there? On the one hand I have had very modest, yet fairly consistent sales over the past three months with absolutely no marketing whatsoever. I periodically post the links to the e-books on my Facebook page and I've put them here in my blog a couple of times. On the other hand is the idea that if I take a chance and get my name out there not only will it generate sales, but could ultimately make my writing more appealing to conventional agents and publishers.
So the elephant in the room is the question of whether or not I want to put myself out there full Monty and undertake the lofty goal of actually marketing myself and advertising my books. That's the elephant... the gigantic steaming pile of elephant poop is the idea that I will put myself out there, advertise, market, all in all make a spectical of myself and end up with the same modest sales I have had all along... or even better no more sales.
So speak to me great advisors and speakers of wisdom... I can't be who I'm not, and most people don't have a clue how to take me... do I really want to throw that out there for the whole world to see?? Or for the whole world to point, laugh at and ultimately shun?? LOL
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Accepting The Unacceptable...
Today (Thursday, March 24) my second oldest granddaughter, Aryiana, should have been 9 months old. She should be eating babyfood, or more likely skipping the babyfood like her sister did and going straight for the good stuff whether she has any teeth or not. She should be pulling up to my coffee table, crawling after the new puppy her Aunt Bekah brought home to "find a good home for" and getting her fingers smacked for touching the cigarettes, lighter, ashtray, etc. etc. etc. She should be jumping in the jumper, chattering like a magpie, walking with her sister and her uncle Karl holding her chubby hands to keep her balanced, and blowing raspberries and spit bubbles.
Instead she is singing with the angels. She is making our departed family laugh with her silly antics and her beautiful smiles. She sits at the feet of Jesus and listens to His stories of the world and why it is the way it is. She hears and knows and understands why she was given to us for such a short time and then taken away with no warning and no explanation. She sends on whispered memories and laughing dreams tiny bits of peace and strength so those of us left behind know we can and must go on without her. She sends smiles to her Mommy, sloppy baby kisses to her Daddy, waves to her Sissy, and hugs for the rest of us who love and miss her more than we can deal with most days.
10 days ago marked the six month anniversary of Ary's death. I don't give tribute to that day by calling attention to it because I would rather remember the 11 weeks of joy that her life brought to me than the endless loss that came with her death. My daughter-in-law said today that acceptance sometimes takes a lifetime. She is, as always, wise beyond her years and I am unbelievably proud of the way she and my son have taken tiny steps toward recovering from something no parent should ever have to survive. I have no doubt that they will both reach the stage of acceptance, probably long before I do. I still spend a few moments most nights stomping my feet and demanding answers that I know I can't have; pleading for things I know can never be. I still revel in the occasional thought that I just haven't seen her in a while because I'm busy and work too much, but then I feel that tiny head against my shoulder, the whispered breath on my face. It's her way of letting me know she's with me now and always, that she won't leave again and that it's okay to remember and admit that she isn't physically here anymore... admit, not accept... I'm not that far yet.
This blog post was written in loving memory of Aryiana Leigh Engle 6/24/10 - 9/14/10...
Mamaw loves her Turtle
Instead she is singing with the angels. She is making our departed family laugh with her silly antics and her beautiful smiles. She sits at the feet of Jesus and listens to His stories of the world and why it is the way it is. She hears and knows and understands why she was given to us for such a short time and then taken away with no warning and no explanation. She sends on whispered memories and laughing dreams tiny bits of peace and strength so those of us left behind know we can and must go on without her. She sends smiles to her Mommy, sloppy baby kisses to her Daddy, waves to her Sissy, and hugs for the rest of us who love and miss her more than we can deal with most days.
10 days ago marked the six month anniversary of Ary's death. I don't give tribute to that day by calling attention to it because I would rather remember the 11 weeks of joy that her life brought to me than the endless loss that came with her death. My daughter-in-law said today that acceptance sometimes takes a lifetime. She is, as always, wise beyond her years and I am unbelievably proud of the way she and my son have taken tiny steps toward recovering from something no parent should ever have to survive. I have no doubt that they will both reach the stage of acceptance, probably long before I do. I still spend a few moments most nights stomping my feet and demanding answers that I know I can't have; pleading for things I know can never be. I still revel in the occasional thought that I just haven't seen her in a while because I'm busy and work too much, but then I feel that tiny head against my shoulder, the whispered breath on my face. It's her way of letting me know she's with me now and always, that she won't leave again and that it's okay to remember and admit that she isn't physically here anymore... admit, not accept... I'm not that far yet.
This blog post was written in loving memory of Aryiana Leigh Engle 6/24/10 - 9/14/10...
Mamaw loves her Turtle
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The State of the World As We Know It...
One of my first Facebook statuses today was that I was feeling sad and going to look for something good to read to distract myself until time for work. I found something good to read, or reread actually; Lynsay Sands Born to Bite. It's one of her Argeneau novels and if you care at all for paranormal romance it's definitely a series not to be missed.
But I digress. I was feeling sad this morning, and actually I'm still feeling a bit sad. Partially due to personal situations that are just a part of life and will work themselves out as my children and I continue to adjust to the changing roles of adult parent child relationships. What really made me sad, and has bothered me for awhile now (and yes I already know how utterly ridiculous this is going to sound, but bear with me and I'll sort of explain at the end) is this whole thing with Charlie Sheen.
Now don't get me wrong here, I'm not a crazed Charlie Sheen groupie (everyone knows my preferences for Shemar Moore above all else) or generally one to follow the antics of Hollywood. I could care less what Lindsy Lohan is stealing or who Brittney Spears is flipping out on. I don't know if it's just because Charlie Sheen has chosen to direct his rants focused on the camera and in person as opposed to being caught by nosy paparazzi. Perhaps it's because I have people that I love above all else in life who suffer from drug and alcohol abuse/addiction as well as mental illnesses; or maybe it's the respect that I've always had for Martin Sheen as a fellow Dayton native. Whatever reason this instance of insantity or detox psychosis or whatever it is have sort of thrown me for a loop.
Again don't be misled here, I don't at all feel sorry for Charlie Sheen. He's been given more opportunities and feet forward than most and I'm a hard fast believer in the idea that life hands out mitigating circumstances not excuses. Personal responsibility for ones actions is important to me and while drug addition and mental illness should never be ignored as motivators they should also never be accepted to excuse responsibility for someone's actions... at least not in my little corner of the universe...
So what exactly is my problem? What is it making me sad? I think it's the fact that everytime I hear someone talking about it or see a Facebook post it's always about how crazy he is or speculation on whether this is a result of detox or just continuing drug use. (Which is, most likely, exactly what keeps good ole Charlie ranting on, because it either brings attention to his plight or feeds his delusions of grandeur which are part and parcel of BiPolar Disorder but also come with drug addiction and detox psychosis and there goes the cycle of speculation.) There's never, not even after the speculation and disgust at his actions, any glimmer of consideration for him as a human being or for his family who will suffer the lifelong effects of whatever the hell his malfunction is. Has anyone, anywhere, even once, ever seen a post or overheard a conversation regarding Charlie Sheen that ended with "I'll be keeping Charlie and his family in my prayers"???
Regardless of whether someone is religious in the sense of attending an organized church/prayer service on a regular basis or is a self proclaimed agnostic or athiest shouldn't there be some consideration for the human condition? I don't care if you dance naked around a fire in the clearing at the four solstices or run the pew backs speaking in tongues or poke your nose in the air at any thought of there being an entity more powerful than you controlling your destiny... there is never an excuse for completely ignoring the suffering of another human being... At least not in my little corner of the universe...
So I'm not saying feel sorry for the earths idiots, addicts, thieves, thugs, gangsters, and physically unattrative... I'm just saying to remember two things: #1, if you're religious you might want to keep in mind the addage "There but for the grace of God go I" and take heed that just because you have a good life situation today doesn't mean that will be the case this time next year. and #2 for those of you who don't believe in the power and presence of God I give
you this... Karma is a bitch with PMS and a GPS and sooner or later your address will be the next on her hit list.
Pay it forward people... a prayer, a kind thought, a smile in an elevator... none of those things will cost you a dime but they could be worth a lottery to the person on the receiving end.
But I digress. I was feeling sad this morning, and actually I'm still feeling a bit sad. Partially due to personal situations that are just a part of life and will work themselves out as my children and I continue to adjust to the changing roles of adult parent child relationships. What really made me sad, and has bothered me for awhile now (and yes I already know how utterly ridiculous this is going to sound, but bear with me and I'll sort of explain at the end) is this whole thing with Charlie Sheen.
Now don't get me wrong here, I'm not a crazed Charlie Sheen groupie (everyone knows my preferences for Shemar Moore above all else) or generally one to follow the antics of Hollywood. I could care less what Lindsy Lohan is stealing or who Brittney Spears is flipping out on. I don't know if it's just because Charlie Sheen has chosen to direct his rants focused on the camera and in person as opposed to being caught by nosy paparazzi. Perhaps it's because I have people that I love above all else in life who suffer from drug and alcohol abuse/addiction as well as mental illnesses; or maybe it's the respect that I've always had for Martin Sheen as a fellow Dayton native. Whatever reason this instance of insantity or detox psychosis or whatever it is have sort of thrown me for a loop.
Again don't be misled here, I don't at all feel sorry for Charlie Sheen. He's been given more opportunities and feet forward than most and I'm a hard fast believer in the idea that life hands out mitigating circumstances not excuses. Personal responsibility for ones actions is important to me and while drug addition and mental illness should never be ignored as motivators they should also never be accepted to excuse responsibility for someone's actions... at least not in my little corner of the universe...
So what exactly is my problem? What is it making me sad? I think it's the fact that everytime I hear someone talking about it or see a Facebook post it's always about how crazy he is or speculation on whether this is a result of detox or just continuing drug use. (Which is, most likely, exactly what keeps good ole Charlie ranting on, because it either brings attention to his plight or feeds his delusions of grandeur which are part and parcel of BiPolar Disorder but also come with drug addiction and detox psychosis and there goes the cycle of speculation.) There's never, not even after the speculation and disgust at his actions, any glimmer of consideration for him as a human being or for his family who will suffer the lifelong effects of whatever the hell his malfunction is. Has anyone, anywhere, even once, ever seen a post or overheard a conversation regarding Charlie Sheen that ended with "I'll be keeping Charlie and his family in my prayers"???
Regardless of whether someone is religious in the sense of attending an organized church/prayer service on a regular basis or is a self proclaimed agnostic or athiest shouldn't there be some consideration for the human condition? I don't care if you dance naked around a fire in the clearing at the four solstices or run the pew backs speaking in tongues or poke your nose in the air at any thought of there being an entity more powerful than you controlling your destiny... there is never an excuse for completely ignoring the suffering of another human being... At least not in my little corner of the universe...
So I'm not saying feel sorry for the earths idiots, addicts, thieves, thugs, gangsters, and physically unattrative... I'm just saying to remember two things: #1, if you're religious you might want to keep in mind the addage "There but for the grace of God go I" and take heed that just because you have a good life situation today doesn't mean that will be the case this time next year. and #2 for those of you who don't believe in the power and presence of God I give
you this... Karma is a bitch with PMS and a GPS and sooner or later your address will be the next on her hit list.
Pay it forward people... a prayer, a kind thought, a smile in an elevator... none of those things will cost you a dime but they could be worth a lottery to the person on the receiving end.
Friday, February 25, 2011
How does this work exactly???
I'm still a bit confused by this whole blog thing. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be trying to lure strangers into reading my ramblings or if people are just supposed to stumble upon me by accident and be wowed by my fascinating (someone PLEASE shoot me in the face if one more freaking stranger tells me how "fascinating" my life is) life? Am I supposed to come up with intriguing questions to pose? Should I just post links to my e-books at Kindle and write about my struggles as a self-publishing (because I'm seriously too broke & too lazy to pursue traditional publication with the consistancy and heart that it demands)? Is this the correct format for heralding my much laughed about fascination with Shemar Moore and Lindt milk chocolate? Or my odd fascination with anything miniature, oversized, or my fetish for office supplies perhaps?
I have to admit it's nice to have this lovely diary like environment to express things and just throw out things in life that won't fit into the character restrictions of a facebook status, but is that really all a blog is supposed to be? I know a lot of people who have multiple blogs... one for personal stuff, one for business, one for hobbies, etc., etc., etc., (shall we dance dom dom dom...) but I can't really come up with enough material that I find worthy of sharing for even one blog on a daily or even weekly basis. Maybe if I had a better understanding of what my purpose was here I would be able to come up with more words to add.
So tell me friends and loved ones (all 3 or 4 of you who read this drivel) what exactly is a blog supposed to be? What is it that you want to read about in these pages of wit, wisdom, and ridiculousness???? Give me purpose... direction... a row to hoe...
Happy 23rd Birthday today to my handsome, wonderful little boy :) I love you Marques Alan!!
This weeks statistics:
* Work schedule still sucks, they're cutting hours like crazy!
* Wrestling is over and we have a much needed break before soccer and horse show season begins!
* I'm up to 15 copies of the 2 e-books I have available at Kindle.com and today ordered my proof copies for the print versions of both Saving Alexandria and Guardian of Dreams! Now to decide if I want to try and do some sort of advertising and promotion for the books or if I'm satisfied with the fact that they're out there.
I have to admit it's nice to have this lovely diary like environment to express things and just throw out things in life that won't fit into the character restrictions of a facebook status, but is that really all a blog is supposed to be? I know a lot of people who have multiple blogs... one for personal stuff, one for business, one for hobbies, etc., etc., etc., (shall we dance dom dom dom...) but I can't really come up with enough material that I find worthy of sharing for even one blog on a daily or even weekly basis. Maybe if I had a better understanding of what my purpose was here I would be able to come up with more words to add.
So tell me friends and loved ones (all 3 or 4 of you who read this drivel) what exactly is a blog supposed to be? What is it that you want to read about in these pages of wit, wisdom, and ridiculousness???? Give me purpose... direction... a row to hoe...
Happy 23rd Birthday today to my handsome, wonderful little boy :) I love you Marques Alan!!
This weeks statistics:
* Work schedule still sucks, they're cutting hours like crazy!
* Wrestling is over and we have a much needed break before soccer and horse show season begins!
* I'm up to 15 copies of the 2 e-books I have available at Kindle.com and today ordered my proof copies for the print versions of both Saving Alexandria and Guardian of Dreams! Now to decide if I want to try and do some sort of advertising and promotion for the books or if I'm satisfied with the fact that they're out there.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Wow It's Been Awhile....
Life seems to have once again gotten in the way of my blogging... or perhaps it was just moodiness and the inability to write anything I thought the four or five people who actually read my blog would want to waste their time on LOL
Actually life is pretty darn good in my neck of the woods for the moment. Valentine's Day was fairly eventful as I got surprise flowers from one of my best friends and then more surprise flowers from my daughter and my daughter's best friend who is really pretty much my other daughter LOL both extremely beautiful (the girls and all the flowers) and very much appreciated. Then from my hubby I got the cutest stuffed dog in the world and some very yummy chocolates. My baby boy made me several beautiful cards and drawings and we had a wonderful time together at his school Valentine's party... 1st grade is the bomb apparently LOL
My book sales are actually tooting right along... between the two novels I have listed on Kindle I've sold 15 copies and made close to $40 in royalties. I'm now venturing into the self-publishing print world and both titles should be available at Amazon.com within the week. I'm a little frustrated with the print side of things because I absolutely LOVE the way they look and the beautiful covers I'm able to design for them. It absolutely amazes me to think I will be able to see something I have written actually in a full print version, and I'm sure once I have a copy in my grubby little paws I will bawl uncontrollably. My issue with it is that the books are (to me anyway) incredibly expensive!!!!! Saving Alexandria was minimum priced at $6.99 which I think is a lot for a novella, and Guardian of Dreams (which I must admit is 450 print pages... I got carried away, but the characters insisted that there was nothing else to cut) minimum priced at $17.99... that's nearly two hours of work for a book written by someone that no has ever heard of and couldn't find an agent or a publisher that would take a chance on her... seems like way to much money to me. So much so that I really had decided not to print publish Guardian of Dreams at all, but then my good friend (the one who sent me surprise flowers) suggested that since I'd gone to the trouble to upload the book and do the whole process I might as well put it out there. If no one buys it then I'm no worse off than I was before and I can still steer my friends and people who are truly interested in my writing toward the e-book which is a much more reasonable $3.99.
That's it for me I think... I wish I had something interesting or important to share, but outside of having to pick up cashier shifts and still not getting my full time hours even between two departments life is pretty much just work, kids, sleep, repeat...
Actually life is pretty darn good in my neck of the woods for the moment. Valentine's Day was fairly eventful as I got surprise flowers from one of my best friends and then more surprise flowers from my daughter and my daughter's best friend who is really pretty much my other daughter LOL both extremely beautiful (the girls and all the flowers) and very much appreciated. Then from my hubby I got the cutest stuffed dog in the world and some very yummy chocolates. My baby boy made me several beautiful cards and drawings and we had a wonderful time together at his school Valentine's party... 1st grade is the bomb apparently LOL
My book sales are actually tooting right along... between the two novels I have listed on Kindle I've sold 15 copies and made close to $40 in royalties. I'm now venturing into the self-publishing print world and both titles should be available at Amazon.com within the week. I'm a little frustrated with the print side of things because I absolutely LOVE the way they look and the beautiful covers I'm able to design for them. It absolutely amazes me to think I will be able to see something I have written actually in a full print version, and I'm sure once I have a copy in my grubby little paws I will bawl uncontrollably. My issue with it is that the books are (to me anyway) incredibly expensive!!!!! Saving Alexandria was minimum priced at $6.99 which I think is a lot for a novella, and Guardian of Dreams (which I must admit is 450 print pages... I got carried away, but the characters insisted that there was nothing else to cut) minimum priced at $17.99... that's nearly two hours of work for a book written by someone that no has ever heard of and couldn't find an agent or a publisher that would take a chance on her... seems like way to much money to me. So much so that I really had decided not to print publish Guardian of Dreams at all, but then my good friend (the one who sent me surprise flowers) suggested that since I'd gone to the trouble to upload the book and do the whole process I might as well put it out there. If no one buys it then I'm no worse off than I was before and I can still steer my friends and people who are truly interested in my writing toward the e-book which is a much more reasonable $3.99.
That's it for me I think... I wish I had something interesting or important to share, but outside of having to pick up cashier shifts and still not getting my full time hours even between two departments life is pretty much just work, kids, sleep, repeat...
Monday, February 7, 2011
I Feel Pretty, Oh So Pretty, I Feel Pretty, and Witty, and Wise...
I can't remember what movie that song is from to save my life but it fit so I'm going with it.
This has been a strange, bizarre, emotional month and it's only 7 days in. It seems as though I have run the complete gambit of emotions every day and some days several times to the point that I am utterly exhausted and totally bewildered.
Today however was an unusual day in a good way. Today after 43 years, 6 months, and 14 days of life someone told me I was pretty. Granted it was a six year old girl, but still it was said with an honest heart and truthful intent so it counts.
Now to be realistic I've never expected to be told that I'm pretty because I really am not and haven't ever been. I was cute as babies go, and adorable as a toddler, but by the time I hit preschool/elementary school age I was seriously over weight and remarkably unhappy. Unhappy, overweight, introverted little girls are not pretty by any stretch of the imagination, and that doesn't get better with age or even weight loss. It doesn't get better because it's a mind set with an iron grip that never goes away. Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying I was ugly or hideous or unsightly. I'm just saying that someone who carries themselves shrouded in self-consciousness doesn't generally present a "pretty" demeanor to the outside world. Not even to the people who love them and care the most about them. That's why you will overhear the parents/friends/spouses/loved ones of these people give compliments like... "You have such a pretty face..." or "Well you look nice today..."
The fact that this little girl... who knows me only because she sees me at the bus stop with my youngest son... thinks I'm "really pretty" tells me that somewhere inside the death grip is beginning to loosen and allow glimpses of the person I want to be to show through. For me that's a major step and honestly it's one I really wouldn't have thought I would ever make.
News of the week....
This has been a strange, bizarre, emotional month and it's only 7 days in. It seems as though I have run the complete gambit of emotions every day and some days several times to the point that I am utterly exhausted and totally bewildered.
Today however was an unusual day in a good way. Today after 43 years, 6 months, and 14 days of life someone told me I was pretty. Granted it was a six year old girl, but still it was said with an honest heart and truthful intent so it counts.
Now to be realistic I've never expected to be told that I'm pretty because I really am not and haven't ever been. I was cute as babies go, and adorable as a toddler, but by the time I hit preschool/elementary school age I was seriously over weight and remarkably unhappy. Unhappy, overweight, introverted little girls are not pretty by any stretch of the imagination, and that doesn't get better with age or even weight loss. It doesn't get better because it's a mind set with an iron grip that never goes away. Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying I was ugly or hideous or unsightly. I'm just saying that someone who carries themselves shrouded in self-consciousness doesn't generally present a "pretty" demeanor to the outside world. Not even to the people who love them and care the most about them. That's why you will overhear the parents/friends/spouses/loved ones of these people give compliments like... "You have such a pretty face..." or "Well you look nice today..."
The fact that this little girl... who knows me only because she sees me at the bus stop with my youngest son... thinks I'm "really pretty" tells me that somewhere inside the death grip is beginning to loosen and allow glimpses of the person I want to be to show through. For me that's a major step and honestly it's one I really wouldn't have thought I would ever make.
News of the week....
- Combined book sales are up to 10!!!!! Yayyyyyy me!! Put the word out if you know anyone who reads paranormal romance. Even if they don't have a Kindle they can download the Kindle program FREE for PC, iPhone, iPad, Blackberry and Android phones as well. Then it's just the cost of the e-books themselves and they're super reasonable and a lot are free.
- Karl is selling cookie dough if anyone wants some let me know
- Work schedules continue to have the pungent aroma of booty nuts & Cheerios so if you want my presence at anything I need at least a couple weeks advance notice.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Sweet Words of a Child...
"Mooooom! The police are here!"
It's a phrase I've been awoken by on more than one occasion since 1989. Actually it's a phrase I've heard more times than I could count on the fingers of both hands. When you raise children with severe mental, emotional, and behavioral problems you have a lot of visits from the po-po. Many times, probably most in fact, it wasn't a surprise when they arrived because I was the one who called them to come out. The special times of course are when they show up unnanounced like they did at 9:25 this morning.
My first thought was panic of course, thinking that the storm had in some way maimed one of my boys. Thankfully today's shocking wake up call was followed by "they're here because our door was open."
Okay. So why was our door open? When I got up at 2:45 or so and went down to shut off the lights both doors were locked, yet when I go downstairs the officer (who is a nice guy but doesn't think much of me or my family apparently) says the backdoor was unlocked when they got here and the front door was hanging wide open. So I tell him that they were locked around 3am (which I later found out was about 2:45 only because I'd been awake enough to send a Facebook status e-mail... which is probably the straw that sucked the last of the power from the cell phone... oops).
So he looks at me like I'm lying.... because Lord knows there's obviously nothing missing so I must be lying about something I guess... then he says "Who is here with you ma'am?"
Now keep in mind that it was 9:20am and I had been dead asleep. I was dressed in the t-shirt I sleep in and the jeans I pulled on as I came down the stairs. I was confused, embarrassed, still half asleep, and not in a very good mood so my first thought was to say. "Well I have Shemar Moore tied up in my bedroom closet and I probably just forgot to shut the door good when I ruphied him and dragged him through the ice covered parking lot and up the stairs. He put up a hell of a struggle despite the elephant tranquilizers I bought to knock him out with. I will definitely have to do more research on dosing next time."
Luckily this is not my first time around the block so I managed to just raise an eyebrow and say "just me and my daughter. Her friend is here and my son, my seven year old son."
So then Officer Attitude says. "I'm familiar with this residence." To which I merely nodded, considering it's my fat ass that usually calls him out I'm pretty sure I already knew that. Then he goes on to say. "How old is your daughter and her friend?" "17" I say... and then he looks at me, nods his head wisely and says, "Maybe the girls went out last night."
Yeah buddy because I was a little light on funds so I sent those bitches to the corner to make a buck or two in a freaking ice storm. It was raining ice all night and about 20 degrees, not even meth heads were out last night! Once again I just said "Uhm maybe, I don't know though it was sort of cold."
In the end they just left and said if I think of anything to call them. What am I supposed to think of? There was nothing missing, the last time I was downstairs both doors were shut and I'm pretty sure the front door was locked, but it's possible that I just glanced at it and assumed it was locked because it wasn't straight horizontal. I'm sorry they had to come out for nothing, but to be honest I didn't call them and if the apartment guy had done something silly like oh I don't know... ring the fucking doorbell and see if someone answered???? Then they wouldn't have needed to come out. Yet at the same time isn't that their job?
Don't get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for the police department and the officers on the street especially. Their job is difficult, stressful, and always potentially deadly. Generally I have found them to be understanding, sympathetic, and willing to help you out in any way possible... Yet somehow this morning I was made to feel like I had done, or was doing something wrong. I was asleep, but it was 9:20 on my day off and school is cancelled. I told them what I thought to be true which was that when I got up after the electric was on I came down to turn the lights off and thought the doors were locked... I know they were both closed because I was downstairs twice and would have noticed if the door were standing wide open.
Perhaps I'm just bitter because I had hoped that my days of hearing that particular phrase were over forever and yet there it was this morning back like a bad rash. I will get over this as well I'm sure, and at least I have something new to blog and bitch about. :)
It's a phrase I've been awoken by on more than one occasion since 1989. Actually it's a phrase I've heard more times than I could count on the fingers of both hands. When you raise children with severe mental, emotional, and behavioral problems you have a lot of visits from the po-po. Many times, probably most in fact, it wasn't a surprise when they arrived because I was the one who called them to come out. The special times of course are when they show up unnanounced like they did at 9:25 this morning.
My first thought was panic of course, thinking that the storm had in some way maimed one of my boys. Thankfully today's shocking wake up call was followed by "they're here because our door was open."
Okay. So why was our door open? When I got up at 2:45 or so and went down to shut off the lights both doors were locked, yet when I go downstairs the officer (who is a nice guy but doesn't think much of me or my family apparently) says the backdoor was unlocked when they got here and the front door was hanging wide open. So I tell him that they were locked around 3am (which I later found out was about 2:45 only because I'd been awake enough to send a Facebook status e-mail... which is probably the straw that sucked the last of the power from the cell phone... oops).
So he looks at me like I'm lying.... because Lord knows there's obviously nothing missing so I must be lying about something I guess... then he says "Who is here with you ma'am?"
Now keep in mind that it was 9:20am and I had been dead asleep. I was dressed in the t-shirt I sleep in and the jeans I pulled on as I came down the stairs. I was confused, embarrassed, still half asleep, and not in a very good mood so my first thought was to say. "Well I have Shemar Moore tied up in my bedroom closet and I probably just forgot to shut the door good when I ruphied him and dragged him through the ice covered parking lot and up the stairs. He put up a hell of a struggle despite the elephant tranquilizers I bought to knock him out with. I will definitely have to do more research on dosing next time."
Luckily this is not my first time around the block so I managed to just raise an eyebrow and say "just me and my daughter. Her friend is here and my son, my seven year old son."
So then Officer Attitude says. "I'm familiar with this residence." To which I merely nodded, considering it's my fat ass that usually calls him out I'm pretty sure I already knew that. Then he goes on to say. "How old is your daughter and her friend?" "17" I say... and then he looks at me, nods his head wisely and says, "Maybe the girls went out last night."
Yeah buddy because I was a little light on funds so I sent those bitches to the corner to make a buck or two in a freaking ice storm. It was raining ice all night and about 20 degrees, not even meth heads were out last night! Once again I just said "Uhm maybe, I don't know though it was sort of cold."
In the end they just left and said if I think of anything to call them. What am I supposed to think of? There was nothing missing, the last time I was downstairs both doors were shut and I'm pretty sure the front door was locked, but it's possible that I just glanced at it and assumed it was locked because it wasn't straight horizontal. I'm sorry they had to come out for nothing, but to be honest I didn't call them and if the apartment guy had done something silly like oh I don't know... ring the fucking doorbell and see if someone answered???? Then they wouldn't have needed to come out. Yet at the same time isn't that their job?
Don't get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for the police department and the officers on the street especially. Their job is difficult, stressful, and always potentially deadly. Generally I have found them to be understanding, sympathetic, and willing to help you out in any way possible... Yet somehow this morning I was made to feel like I had done, or was doing something wrong. I was asleep, but it was 9:20 on my day off and school is cancelled. I told them what I thought to be true which was that when I got up after the electric was on I came down to turn the lights off and thought the doors were locked... I know they were both closed because I was downstairs twice and would have noticed if the door were standing wide open.
Perhaps I'm just bitter because I had hoped that my days of hearing that particular phrase were over forever and yet there it was this morning back like a bad rash. I will get over this as well I'm sure, and at least I have something new to blog and bitch about. :)
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