cattyann

So, some idiot that lives in our area, decided to “take care” of his buddy’s boa constrictor, while having his 3 year old in the house. Let’s set this up, just so you know, this thing was like 10 feet long and close to 2 feet wide. At some point, the thing got out of it’s enclosure, which from the looks of things was a room too small for him. My guess…..he knocked the door down and took off for a bigger place in the house, but who knows. I believe they lived in a trailer park. What I do know is, he got ahold of the 3 year old and bit him, not once but a couple of times. The parents excuse? They didn’t know it was loose. So….how does that conversation go, “Honey, have you seen that little rascal, tiny?” “that little bugger is always up to something.” Remember, the thing is 10 feet long, how do you NOT SEE it.
They had to finally shoot the thing, and still the parents thought nothing of it. At least, that is the way it was reported. From the looks of the video and what the mother said, they reported it correctly. Why, do you not, cite parents in that situation for not protecting their child. First, you have to be oblivious to where your child is, second to where the snake was. The problem here, they didn’t seem to care where either of them were.
I don’t know maybe it’s just me, but at all times I would want to know that snake was locked up and asleep, not wrapped around my three year old.

But hey………..that’s just me!

Perhaps it is just my warped sense of right, because I am a server, but….here goes. If you don’t have enough money for the whole dining experience, then please, stay home. Yes, I am a server, I’d like to think, a very good server. After having a weekend of 8, 10, 12 people at a table, and leaving $2.00 or possibly, nothing, I’ve had it. I was not the only server to have this happen. Yes, I know the economy sucks and yes, I realize if you get bad service, the tip is a reflection of the service. This not being the case, as I politely asked if the service was acceptable. The reply, yes it was great. Before going any further, the majority of these people, weren’t dressed high class, as a matter of fact, most seemed rather poor, but the answer to why we were soooo busy, income tax refunds. Yes, the majority were people with a lot of children. I have three of my own and three step children, so children were not my problem. And yes, it can be very expensive to take your entire family out to dinner, but if you can’t include the tip, please, please stay home. We servers make $3.50 an hour, yes we bus our own tables where I work. I am the one who cleans up under the table where you kindly let your child throw all of the food on the floor and laughed as he did it. I am sorry, but if the service was not up to par, then ask for a manager and get a new server. After several of our parties flaunted that they had received their income tax refund and this is why they were out to dinner, please remember this, at the end of your meal. Have the decency to tell the server what is wrong if you are unhappy. I am not rich, nor do I hate my job, in fact, I love what I do, but do not appreciate working hard to make someone happy, just to have them stiff me at the end of the meal. Yes, at the first of the month we get people on welfare, disability and so on and so forth, yes it always shows at the first of the month. This is something I do not mind, like I said people don’t have to have a lot of money, to have a sense of right and wrong. If there was nothing wrong with the service and someone kept getting me drinks all night long and picking up the dirty dishes, keeping the table clean and was there anytime you needed them and even when you didn’t, please tip. If someone provides you with a service and it was well done, tip. Don’t be cheap, just because you can. When I take my car thru a drive thru car wash and they dry my car off, I tip because it was a service provided to me. Even though I know they get an hourly wage, a person provided me with a service of drying off by hand, my vehicle, I tip. Most servers, get 3.50 or less, as an hourly wage, not the minimum, whatever that is now, for our state, I believe it is 6.85. Please just think about this, next time you go out to dinner. It would be greatly appreciated.

Today, I received an email from a young lady who said, I had inspired her to be a better mother. Say what? A while back I had written, “She didn’t want me.” A story of abuse at the hands of my mother. My story was on thoughts.com, and it had been awhile since I wrote about it, and to say the least, it was hard. I realized that the older I get, the harder it is to put behind me. I hate weddings, mother’s day (even though I am a mother), girl’s day out with mom, my mother’s birthday and the list goes on and on. No, it isn’t a paying website, just one that lets you get your feelings out, and that I did. The point to this story…, share, let people know what you have knowledge about. Someone out there can learn from you, hopefully for the good.
The young lady told me she is 22 and a first time mom, (first time is hard on any age). She thought a drink or two during the day, would take the edge off. Remember, to take YOUR edge off, puts it right back on someone else. My mother drank to feel no pain. I was the one who felt the pain of her actions. This woman said I helped her to realize, he is only 2 years old, and isn’t a pain in her butt, but a blessing. I guess I just wanted to share this because I was blessed by it, It takes a wise woman to know when she has done wrong and is headed in that direction, especially at 22. My story wasn’t just about my mother, it was about a life filled with crap and turmoil. I, at 47, am still trying to rise above it and am still learning. It’s never to old to learn. I wrote that story a few months ago, and assumed it was in the archives, somehow it made it’s way to someone who needed it. God taught me a valuable lesson. Just when you think he can’t use you and you have nothing more to offer, you get a promotion from him. My promotion? To know, that from my pain……someone else possibly stopped a cycle of abuse they can’t undo later on. Children don’t deserve abuse. They never asked to come into this world, we made those choices for them. Life is hard, some have more, some have less, children just know love, and love, is something everyone has to offer.

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So, the next day, my manager, Brian comes in. I didn’t really know to explain things to him. (You’ll have to read the first “he was all over me” to understand this. I just casually walked over to him and started singing, “you ate her husband, you ate her husband.” You know, in that sing songy voice, kids use all the time, the irratating one. Anyway, he just looks at me and says, “what are you talking about?” So I tell him. Now, if you didn’t read the first “he was all over me”, shame on you and you won’t know what’s going on here.
It is at this point, he screams, “uhhhhh” and starts wiping off his tongue with his hands, and who knows where those have been. Just kidding. He then runs to the mens room, which is fine by me, because it is at this point, I am laughing so hard, I can’t hardly see straight. He goes to the mens room and I, to the ladies (my mascare had began to run). I somehow compose myself and go and knock on the mens room door. I ask, “are you alright?” To which I hear a reply of, “when I get out of here, I am going to kill you.” So, needless to say, this may take a shrink for him to get over. I’ll be sure to let you know.

Remember I told you yesterday that I thought I had seen it all. Wait….it gets better. I use to write about these stupid things that happened at work, like throwing away teeth and the woman in the bathroom stall on thoughts.com and people couldn’t believe these things actually happen. But they do. Anyway, the day before yesterday, a woman left her purse at the restaurant. When this happens we take it to the manager and it is put in the safe. It was late and the woman didn’t show up, so our manager told me to look inside of it and see if there was a phone number. It wasn’t a large purse, something small and a was a very bright gold color. Of course, there was no check book or anything just zipper compartments. I felt uncomfortable even having to look, but wanted to return it, as being a woman, I’d want my purse back.
Anyway….the first compartment had a picture of chippendales, which was embarassing enough, but the next compartment just made me mad. As I reached into it, there were cigarette ashes all in it, I pull out my fingers and said, “uhhhh.” My manager starts laughing at me and that irrates me even more, as I was very tired. I then turn to him and flick the ashes from my hand at him. Of course, I had flicked them in his face and he is spitting and carrying on. I proceed to zip it back up and said, “here I am done, she can just come get it, that’s just disgusting.”
So today, I was late for work, I wrote my time down wrong and was thirty minutes late. Still, that didn’t deter my good mood, but something else did. The woman comes in, looks at me and says, thank you. I didn’t recognize her at first, then I blinked and said, “oh, your purse, it’s in the safe, we couldn’t find a number for you.” She just shook her head and said, that’s ok, just as long as I get it back. At this moment, I am standing there with a glass of ice, and she says, “my husbands ashes are in there.” The glass of ice is now on the floor and I was told I turned a horrid ashen color (excuse the pun). I then say, “I’ll go get him.” As she leaves, all I can think of, is flicking him all over my manger’s face, I then break out in laughter. To the point, I get the hiccups. So the story will continue, as I have yet to tell my manger, who will come in tomorrow. Stay tuned. This should be good.

So it was just another day at the office, or restaurant I should say. I wish I could tell you it was just like all other days, but it wasn’t. I begin by saying, things happen, chalk it up to a full moon, moody people, bad day….I don’t know. What I do know is, one minute I am waiting on tables and the next, I hear two men yelling at each other and it is beginning to get ugly.
Besides serving, I am in charge of the serving staff, so it is my job to keep them from getting hurt. Our managers had decided to escort both men to the front of the restaurant and try to get them to calm down. Seems the “little guy”(this is what we will call him) told the “very big dude” (this will be his name)to make his children behave. You have to understand…these children were wreaking havoc among the restaurant and the parent was forewarned that they were causing problems. To no avail, did the parent “little guy” do anything to correct his children. They were swearing and running around, just generally causing grief. The “big dude” decided HE would say something to the man. This is where it all went downhill. After escorting them outside, a fight ensued. Whereby, myself, and two managers were trying to regain control of the situation and calm it down. Talk wasn’t working and fists were fixin’ to fly between the two. It is then, we decide there was enough yelling and threatening between the two and we called the police.
It really seems like a long time when your needing help. Pay attention, “little dude” had a really big complex for his size, and his problem? He didn’t know when to shut his mouth, he also didn’t know who to pick a fight with. This other guy was huge and he had just about enough of this man’s mouth. It is at this moment, I realize one of my servers had come outside also, which I really didn’t mind because it was getting to be pretty interesting. It is amazing how much a person can take, verbally. “Big dude” had enough and decided to take a swing at this little guy.
It is just then “little guy” realizes he has probably said too much and runs. It is comical because he is small enough to hide behind our steak sign, which is just cardboard and sticking in the ground, it stands about four feet high. Of course, myself, the manager and other server begin to laugh, as this man (little guy) loses his footing and falls in the snow. Just then “big dude” heads straight for him, he is now going to put an end to this fight.” We never saw it coming.
Out of nowhere, I hear some women scream. Not just any scream, screams like you hear in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie, and I am wishing they would shut the hell up.
But the horrid sounds are coming from myself and two others. “Little guy” has maced all of us. Both myself and the other server are running around like idiots and slamming into each other, the trash can and newspaper box. My face, I had decided, was on fire. So…I get the bright idea to fall down and slam my face into the snow, yes, it felt good. It was every man or woman for themselves. As I am on the ground, I am trying to open my eyes. It is at this moment, I catch a glimpse of people staring at us through the windows. Yes we were directly in front of twenty windows, all the way down the front of the restaurant and we were on display. People were video taping us. How embrassing this was. One of our managers was inside and had not seen a thing and runs outside. Of course, he was no help at all because he was laughing so hard he couldn’t lend us a hand to get inside the building, remember, we could barely see. When all was said and done, both guys were gone, nowhere to be seen. Evidently someone told them the police were on the way, and I could only hope they both had warrants. I have regained my eyesight and feeling in my face. As for my dignity, well, let’s just say…..I am still looking for that!

So…..if you knew the end was near and could do anything? What would it be? If you haven’t seen the movie, “The bucket list”, you should. It gets you to thinking, about life in general. You know, regrets of what you didn’t get done, things you want, but couldn’t have. Or just things you want to accomplish. If you could pick just three, what would they be?
Mine would be first, go to chef school. I love to cook and have always wished to be a chef. Second, write a book. The closest I ever came to that would be on Thoughts.com. Still, it isn’t a book, although I had quite a bit go on in my life. Like the time I woke up in bed with grandma, only to find her dead. Yeah, those were the days. Hmmm, third would be to take a vacation and not have to worry about money. Nothing fancy, maybe to the New England area. I’ve always thought it would be beautiful in the fall.
What about you? Do you have a bucket list? If you could only pick three, what would they be? Who knows, it’s a brand new year, anything is possible?

I am not the brightest woman in the world, but I do know a few things. Although, my husband has questioned me on numerous occasions, and hardly ever listens to me. There are times though, I do know my stuff.
One evening while returning home, we encountered a possum on the side of the road, almost in front of our house. We lived in the country and you see these types of things all the time. I am from Kansas City, big city girl, but I do know a thing or two about possums. My husband being the soft hearted man that he is, stops the car and gets out to further inspect the poor animal. Upon returning to the car, he advised me, it seemed to be hurt and would have to be put out of it’s misery. At this point, I start laughing so hard I thought I’d puke. This was my first mistake, the first of many, I might add.
My husband stared straight at me and with clenched teeth, asked what was sooo funny. I said, ” let’s go look at it again,” so we do. Without laughing again, I gently took his hand and said, “aww honey, don’t you know?” This is what they do. He hatefully said, “what is it they do?” I then advised, “play dead, they do that so you will leave them alone.” It is at this moment, the conversation went sour. He then advised me I didn’t know what I was talking about and he was going to put it out of it’s misery.
Second mistake. I began to laugh again, to the point that I had tears streaming down my face. He then gets into the car and pulls into the driveway, slams the car door and informs me he is getting the gun. As he storms up to the house, I follow. Before I can reach the front porch, he has returned with a 357 pistol. While trying to reason with him, he is heading towards this poor animal. As I give it one last shot, I told my husband we should just go inside and give it a few minutes, really, it will scamper away and all will be well. I also advised there was no blood anywhere and told him the dogs must have scared it, but it is what they do, it’s their defense mode. Dear old hubby wasn’t paying a bit of attention to me and proceeds to walk towards the animal, head hanging down (he really does have a caring heart for animals) as it grieves him to see anything in pain. He just looks at me and says,”it is in pain and you don’t care.” I try to give him a serious look, then bust out laughing, “it will be when you get through with it.” That seemed to be his breaking point. He then told me to go inside, he didn’t need my sarcasm. I told him, “please, just come inside and wait 10 minutes, I promise, when you come outside, it will be gone.” I took his hand and said, “if he’s not gone in 10 minutes, you can come outside and shoot it, okay?” He nods his head and starts for the house. I lean over the possum and said, “you better run like hell if you want to live.” I look towards my husband and he is looking back and tells me, “very funny”. We go inside and wait, we then go back outside and, what do you know, it’s gone.”here possum, possum, here boy,” I call. Of course, I start laughing at my husband all over again, this time while lying on the ground. The look of him with that big ole 357 and the thought of the hole it would have made. He didn’t think it was funny at all, he was really mad and
started to march right back to the house. Still laughing, I said, “I told you, city boy. As I looked up to see him gesture to me and it wasn’t one of love. “Hey, I called, when you wave at me use all your fingers.”

There are times I would like to turn back the hands of time. Then, maybe not. The movies I watch, the people I pass, all reminders of what I don’t have. A mother. The lack of having a mother makes me sad and I know I am not alone. My childhood was one that I don’t care to repeat. My mother was a alcoholic who beat me at times and kept me out of school for almost two years, those are times I don’t care to live over. Child abuse comes in many forms, you live through it or you don’t.
Seeing movies with children and their mothers, laughing, crying, sharing, good times and bad, brings tears to my eyes. I never had good times with my mother, and I wonder what I missed. When I was a child, my mother always told me she hated me and didn’t want me. Being a change of life baby was something she could live without. Abuse comes in many forms, mine was having an alcoholic mother who hated me and kept me at home with her while she drank. My father worked two jobs and didn’t find out for a very long time of the problems she had. I was sworn to keep my mouth shut, and I did. I knew what would happen if I told anyone about what was going on. She would drink in the morning and then pass out. Me? I was told to stay in the house and be quiet, and I did just that. One day, I wondered down the street, only to be abused by a stranger. When I see daughters and mothers together, it grieves my soul. I wanted that to be me and my mother, but it is too late now. Children don’t realize what they have until it is too late. She never held me, or told me she loved me. We never shared a joke or held hands. She broke most of my fingers, at one time or another, during her drunken stupors, but I lived through it.
I’ve always wondered, what it is like to have your mother call and say, I love you and miss you. Being a mother makes me a better person, I give what I never had. It is a privilege to be a mother, I cherish it. Still, I find it difficult to see mothers and daughters bonding. I feel incomplete. My children, all boys, no daughters, but I wouldn’t change that for all the money in the world.
Writing about my childhood has helped. There are places like thoughts.com and today.com that make you feel better by getting it all out. Childhood for me was pretty nasty and writing about it all has helped. Still, I wonder what I’ve missed and envy those who still have their mothers. Good relationships or even bad, I get jealous. If you have a mother, hug her and remember she won’t be there forever.

Today was one of those days. I had to wonder if I hadn’t been better off if she would have just not had me. She didn’t want me, my mother. I saw three women having lunch this afternoon talking, laughing, having fun and I got angry. Why? I guess, I was jealous. Wondering what I have missed, jealous, because I wanted to be the one sitting there with my mother having fun, but I wasn’t and it was never going to be that way for me. My mother didn’t want me when she found out she was pregnant with me and that is when it all began.
Today brought back painful memories of when she decided that it would be better if she kept me at home with her, while she drank.
Yes, she would wave the school bus away, take me by the hand and lead me across the street, to the 7-11 to get her daily six pack. She told me it would be fun, she and I staying home and being together. But….it wasn’t. It wasn’t at all. The days began with her drinking and me sitting all by myself wondering what I would do.
Those women made me remember those times. I remember the first time my mother waved that bus good-bye, then she went upstairs after drinking all morning. It was the beginning of a new kind of life for me, one I wouldn’t soon forget.