Big Bitch Session I Have Given

This morning Al was teary-eyed again. I couldn’t take it. A Saturday when I knew he would do this off and on all day. I didn’t want to be sad, so I got to thinking, what can we do.

Bingo, not too much pain so let’s go out. I asked him if he wanted to eat lunch out and he didn’t say anything. I ask him if he wanted to go to Wal-Mart after we ate lunch and look at cars and then he said yes and smiled at me.

So clean face and hands, clean brief, placed him in his wheelchair, got my basket of needed supplies and off we went, just like Little Red Riding Hood.

We ate at a burger joint that Al picked out. He did real good, considering, but he was more worried about people seeing him spill food and his tremors. I told him to forget them and just keep his eyes on me. I would make him forget the strangers.

We ate, by now no matter what we eat or where we eat, it takes Al about forty-five minutes to eat. After I was done I people-watched. Cleaning him up and loading him and the wheelchair back in-car we headed for the junk store, Wal-Mart. Well I guess not junk store, that is sort of crappy term, but this store has changed. They took out American products and brought cheap stuff in for same prices.

So I got my bag of wintergreen lifesavers. I am so addicted to them. I must have one for each cup of coffee I drink. I just love the combo. Then we went to the toy section. Al picked out a new police car. It is pretty cool if I do say so myself. Oh he was so proud. He held it like a new-born baby.

We left that department and went down to look at these razors I was told about. Someone had told me they sell battery operated disposable razors. I looked at them. They were a little pricy, but my friend said they last a long time and work well. I thought, what the heck, I can only be burnt once, so I bought one.

We were just getting ready to leave that aisle when we ran into an aunt we hadn’t seen for almost six years. She was on one of those electric scooters. I saw her coming and she nodded to Al and then went on by.

My body started shaking. This time I was not letting any of this family get by with their rude shit. I stood in my place and yelled at her as she was getting ready to turn the curve.

“Aren’t you even going to say hello to Al? When is the last time you saw or spoke to him, maybe six years ago?”

She said nothing and went on around the next aisle and then came back. She said, “Hi Al, I wish Jeff wasn’t asleep in the car while I am in here. He would probably want to say hi to Al.”

What? She is speaking to me? She is supposed to be speaking to Al. He is the sick one.

Then she says, “I saw a picture of you Al from Joan.”

Joan is our old neighbor that helped that day I took Al to the fair and needed help getting his brief changed because of small doorways. After she helped she wanted to take a photo of Al. She asked him and he said alright.

I asked,” Is that all you’re going to say to him? You may want to talk to him for more than a few seconds. Your chances are running pretty low.”

“Yes, I heard he is real sick.”

She turns her key back on and starts to leave. As she is moving a way, she says, “well, maybe”

That was it. She was gone out of sight. She didn’t even hang around to complete her sentence.

I was so pissed. I have every right to be upset. I give myself that pat on the back for not stomping my feet, crying and running up to her and shaking the hell out of her asking, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

Of course I know what is wrong. She is still friends with the mean woman who dated my Dad when he was dying. My aunt chose to believe anything or everything that this mean old bag chose to say over her very own family members.

If you have no clue as to what I am talking about, go to my Al’s Parkinson’s Journey and read the chapters. It will explain everything to date.

I thought I was being so cool but Al said, “it’s ok sis, at least she said hi” and then he started crying.

That aunt ruined our whole trip. I was even more fuming. How dare her ignore her sick family member. Forget me, although she has hurt me terribly as the aunt in Florida and the Aunt in Indiana, I will survive. I have been hurt plenty.

This whole things stems from one thing. My Dad told everyone in his family and friends circle that when he died the Will was set up a certain way. Well without going into legal and personal details, Dad didn’t word it correctly and there were a lot of gaps.

I wasn’t going to go explain personal business to anyone. The lawyer and the courts figured it all out and I have Al in my care. Enough said I guess, but what ever happened to support from families?

Is it wrong to accept that life is what it is and not everything turns out the way it was planned? For me, I was the biggest winner of all. I have Al in my care. He is not in a State confinement nor a nursing home. He is with me.

I guess I may or may not have made an ass of myself here at WP, but I get really sick of people, especially family, who think they know it all, and yet know nothing, and they ignore us, Dad’s children. Some day Al will be gone. And who ever shows up at his funeral will be the ones who cared. And who ever does not, the hell with them. I can totally understand why Al spends some evenings crying about no one being at his funeral.

The cards keep coming in for Al. He is being shown that people care. We don’t receive any cards from family, so I tell Al that these cards come from extended family, people who love and pray for him.

If anyone else wants to send a card to him, please email me at

for his address.

Al is in  pain now. I think the trip was a little long and the mishap with the Aunt upset him. We are home now naturally, and I gave him some pain medication for his legs. He is now napping. I hope he is having good dreams.Al in the morning

Daily Post; You, The Sandwich, Daily Prompt, DP

If a restaurant were to name something after you, what would it be? Describe it. (Bonus points if you give us a recipe!)

Photographers, artists, poets: show us DINNER.

The Icing On The Cake Dessert.

When I was a young woman and I mean by that I had tasted marriage, groaned with child-birth and thought I knew all about life era. We would go to my Aunt’s house for holiday dinners one year and then the opposite year we would go to my Mother’s.

We knew before we got there exactly what would be the highlights of the menu.

Grandma would slave with the sharp knife cutting the thinnest noodles ever the day before. They would be the first thing we would scan for on the food table. Grandma also made the best macaroni and cheese ever. The secret was the string. Yes, the dish was full of strings. When you dished it on your plate, you tossed the cheese around the spoon so as not to lose one drop or make a mess. Once you started eating it you wrapped the string around your fork and got a nice gooey bite of cheese.

Then there was the creamy smooth as a baby’s bottom mashed potatoes. Melt in your mouth down the shoot in a second or less. Green bean casserole, and I don’t really remember the other veggies. They must have not done anything special for my palate.

Nice marshmallow, brown-sugar glazed sweet potatoes from my Mother. Mom always made a chocolate pie for my Dad. Other wise I am not sure he would attend the functions.

The dessert tables were full of pies. Cherry, pecan and chocolate. There were usually dessert salads and then there was the king of all kinds, the crown of the entire meal. My mother made it if the dinner was at her home, and if it was at my Aunts, then she made it. It is called Pudding Dessert.

When Mom passed a way, I quit going to the Aunts from then on. If I wanted the dessert I had to start making it. Thank goodness I have my recipe in my lock box that Mom gave me. My kids love it also and request it. You can make it with chocolate, or butterscotch. Many times it was made with Butterscotch.

I have changed up the recipe a little because I am a cream cheese nut. I double the cream cheese and the powdered sugar amounts.

Here is the recipe if you like light desserts that make you say,” Oh my gosh, this is so good.”




Pudding Dessert
First Level
1 cup flour, 1 stick butter, 1/2 cup nuts.
Mix and press in a 9×13 pan Bake for 15 minutes 350 degrees
Second layer
1 cup cool whip, 1 cup powdered sugar, 1 8 oz. cream cheese
Blend together and add to first layer when cooled
Third layer
2 packages of instant pudding, your choice of flavor, we always used butterscotch, made with only 3 cups of milk instead of 4. Add to second layer
Fourth layer
Top with rest of cool whip and garnish with nuts

If you try this, I hope you enjoy it.

Sexual Molestation

What I saw at the grocery store. Story: An eye...

What I saw at the grocery store. Story: An eyewitness tip sent a paroled sex offender back to prison. (Photo credit: turkeychik)

It makes me sick to my stomach when I read articles about molestation in the newspapers. We hear them on television. Or maybe we hear about it in our neighborhood.

I know for me, I have grandchildren that live near me and I receive email alerts when a registered sex offender moves in close to us.

I don’t ever remember hearing this term sex offender when I was growing up, but I do remember one time when I was 16. I was staying over night at my cousin’s house. My parents had gone somewhere, I don’t remember.

I was sleeping soundly when I was jerked a wake by my male cousin. I was frightened and I got myself out of the situation but not without leaving behind some emotional scars of what he had tried to do.

Now today I understand the human nature of hormones and wanting to experience what those feelings are, or do I really get it? Experts say that when a baby fondles itself as their diapers are being changed to not get alarmed. It feels good to them so they are re-acting to it.

As a young child in early elementary years I was caught by an adult starting to play doctor with the neighborhood boys. I didn’t think anything about it. I didn’t know any better, but thankfully the adult supervision knew and the game was never started.

Where does it change? When does it go from being a natural state to crossing the line? What makes men, and I use that term men, because that is who we usually hear is the one starting the problem. I am sure there are females involved  but I actually don’t know.

What gives humans the feeling that it is alright to touch another human? Did I have those feelings when I was young but was too naive to act upon it? Did they ever enter my mind? Lord I hope not. But yet the game of doctors was definitely without my knowing an exploring game of the opposite sexes.

Is the way we act somehow have to do with something that happened in our very young childhood? Is it always the parents or grandparents fault some person crossed that line? I am not sure.

I really don’t remember a thing about my ages of 0-3 but I do know through stories that have been told and having been hypnotized because of my fear of the dark, that I was passed around the table so to speak like a bowl of sweet candies. I am so thankful I don’t remember a thing.

I don’t know if I suffered any long-term damage from those days, but I do know that my need to feel loved and needed is very high when it comes to who I am. Even though I live alone, there is always a deep longing to be needed for me, to be loved, to be thought about. Is this some damage left behind from days gone by? I don’t know.

When I did learn about sex molestation I was still in the stage where I knew little. I don’t know that much about it today either or I guess I would not be writing this with a non-understanding about it.

Oh I know how it works I just don’t understand why it happens. These men who molest young girls, can’t they get a girlfriend of their own or same age group? Why do they go for the innocent children?

How in the world can you make me understand why a daddy would take advantage of their own precious child? The only sick reason I can think of is some kind of power control? Bitterness? Getting back? Wanting others to feel their pain?

One time when I was about 10 I had an uncle that my mother didn’t obviously trust. She always warned me that if he ever tried to be with me alone to tell her immediately. This uncle had a garage in the back of their house that was transformed into a shop. There was one day and I do remember this well. It was sunny out and I had shorts and a shirt on.

My aunt was babysitting Al and me and the uncle came through the back door and called my name. He told me to come out and spend some time with him while he was doing his work. I don’t remember what the excuse was to get me out there, but it must have not clicked with what my mom had said because I went.

I do remember him laughing and being in a really good mood. I do remember him wanting to pick me up and spin me around. I do remember me being fearful of the spinning and I told him no. He picked me up when I had said no and spun me anyways. He had one hand under my rib cage  and his other hand right in my crotch.

I started to cry instantly afraid of the spinning, but the words of my mom filtered through and I became even more afraid. I started kicking and yelling and the aunt came to the back door and was yelling about what was I screaming about. He put me down and I raced in the house. As soon as mom picked me up I told her. Obviously this aunt never babysat for us again. I don’t know if mom told the aunt about it or what, it remained a hush topic for ever and ever.

Does this go on in families? Does one of the parents or siblings know what has happened or tried or is going on  but no one says anything. The hush game becomes the priority all of a sudden.

Does this lead the perpetrator to feel a certain power that he is getting a way with it so now he can go outside of his box and attack other innocent victims?

I wish I had the answers, but I don’t. I am not a professional doctor of any kind. I know that from what happened to me which was back in the fifties and sixties, can only be magnified today in the year 2000’s.

When my family sort of smirks when I tell them about a new email alert I received, I think to myself of what happened in my life, what I read in the newspapers, or hear on the television. I ignore the small laughter because I want my grandchildren and any innocent child under the legal age to be safe and have the opportunities to grow up believing in hope and faith and human kindness.