Depression and Black Friday.

Depression sucks. Majorly. I hate when I'm depressed. I know what is going on with me, but I still withdraw to the point of little interaction with human beings and only go out when I'm forced to. I don't understand why I get depressed. I know what causes it, I guess, but it still doesn't make it any easier to handle.

I miss my husband. I wish I was on the road with him now. I miss waking up beside him. I miss him being here. Hell, even the dogs miss him. (I say the word Daddy and they go off to the door, looking for him.)

Mike came home for Thanksgiving. He was in for 3 wonderful days. We had dinner at my Dad's house on Wednesday, because I had to work on Thursday. (No, I'm not complaining. It was time & 1/2. Can you blame me?) Mike went over to my Uncle Tim's house for dinner that day. When he picked me up, he had my cousin CJ with him. He's all happy... "Your Aunt Tish had brussel sprouts!" (A veggie that he and I both love.)

Anyway, we'd decided to go to the midnight sale at Wal-Mart. I had never been to one previously, and figured, why not? That's why we had CJ. To give a little background on CJ, he's days away from being 18. He's 6'7 and 235? lbs. He is the spitting image of his father. He is the most polite teenager I have ever met. Every time he sees me, he gives me a spine-cracking hug. He's one of the best people I know, really.

So, Mike is over by the video games with orders to pick up some that CJ would like, and to grab a griddle that is also on sale for Aunt Tish. (That was purely CJ's idea, btw.) CJ was with me stuck smack dab in the middle of panty and bra land because that is where they stuck the $20/500 threadcount sheets. Allie want!

So, CJ and I stroll up to the rack of sheets to check things out and it is already surrounded by some rude, older ladies, and a couple of girls my age. The older ladies took one look at CJ and automatically went on the offence. Going on and on about this is the Auburn side of the rack, you won't get any sheets, blah, blah, blah. Talking serious smack. CJ, being polite, said, "No, ma'am. We're Alabama fans." and proceeds to show her is Alabama tattoo. (Which I totally adore.) She laughs and says, "I bet if we cut him, he'd bleed crimson."  And, I love CJ for this, cause he's got the sarcasm that our family has perfected. He quips, "Ma'am, we ALL bleed crimson." Just smiling, waiting for her to get it. Greatness. That boy has it.

Things rock on, and another lady, probably in her mid to late 60's walks up and looks at the crowd and says, "Well, I doubt I get any sheets." She, another girl, CJ, and I get into a conversation about what sheets we want. I want a king size set, she needs 2 full size sets, and the other girl(Tuscaloosa girl) wants 2 queen size sets. The whole time, the old biddies up front are still talking smack and trying to covertly open the rack. Seriously?!

The associate walks up and makes them back up so she can take off the plastic wrap. And then.... it is GAME ON! CJ, with a quickness, hands me the one I want, goes back for the 2 the older lady wants, and then, hands me a queen size set. We back away from the crowd so we can see who has what. The old lady thanked us and left. I see Tuscaloosa girl (So named because that's where she lives.) and ask her if she got what she wanted.

She sighed and said, "No, I needed another queen size set." I hand her the one that CJ handed me and said, "Merry Christmas!" She smiled and hugged us both.

We were calling Mike trying to find out where he was while also trying to find the griddles. As we got closer to where they should be, We saw 2 ladies walking by, buggies piled high with griddles and crockpots. By the time we got there, the pallet was empty. I joked to CJ that he should've just ganked (thugged, thieved, stolen) one from the other ladies. He said, "Nope. If I can't get it the right way, I won't get it. Maybe I can find a decent one for Mama anyway." (I am telling ya'll, that is one good kid. Ladies, once he's out of college, he's going to be a catch. He's going for Civil Engineering. Smart, good looking, polite. Alabama fan. Some girl will be happy one of these days. :P)

After an hour, we locate Mike. Not only does he have a couple of games for CJ, he also snagged the last griddle. CJ just smiled. We paid for our things and headed for the Huddle House. Mmmm. Strawberry French Toast. Drool.

Anyway. That's the end of it. I'm sorry I've not been around for a couple of weeks. I pull into myself and don't really know how to get out of it. I'm going to try harder to be better at this. I love you all and thank you for the support.

Love to All,
Allie

Drugs Are Bad, M'kay?

Thursday started out like any other normal night at work. I should've known things were going to get weird when a clearing company showed up and pumped $953.30 of off road diesel. That is a whole lot of fuel.

For those of you who don't know, on road and off road diesel are the exact same thing, except for the fact that off road has a dye in it. Anyway, off road fuel is usually 30 cents cheaper per gallon than on road. I think the most I've ever sold was like $75.00 because whoever it is (DOT?) that checks it will give you a hefty fine if they catch you running it in your regular on road/tagged diesel vehicle.

Anyway, when I came in, they'd already been there 30 minutes and me and my assistant manager were both kinda what the heck about it. The truck had been parked kinda funny, so we couldn't see the name of the company, truck number, nada. So... I get the brilliant idea to go check the trash can out by the pumps. I made conversation with the guys who were pumping and I checked it out. It was a 1000 gallon tank in the back of a box truck. What can I say? I'm a paranoid freak like that. (This becomes evident later that night.)

So anyway, the night rocks on and I'm dusting when one of our regular customers comes in. She and I chat all the time. She'd just finished paying when another regular pulls up to the pump. She automatically backs away from the door and asks me if it was a certain kind of car. I confirmed it and she said, "That's my cousin. He and I have bad blood. Watch this, I'm gonna fix him." I distinctly remember telling her not to start any trouble up there.

About 30 minutes goes by and the guy finally comes into the store, followed by my mom and two police officers. (That time is completely normal. I've had folks stand outside and talk for an hour before coming in to pay.) I've seen the cops before and they ask me if I know who is driving the car on pump 1. I shook my head no and the guy that had walked in pipes up with, "It's mine." (Oh, yeah... I'm thinking. I swear, every single time I see his car, I wonder whose it is because it has TN tags on it.) They ask him to step outside and he said that he would after he paid for his stuff.

My Mom's eyebrows couldn't get any higher on her forehead, at least I don't think so. We were both tripping hard. Another thing you might not know. Anytime there are cops in a gas station parking lot, everyone and their brother shows up. Everybody must know what is going on... Right that moment.

So in between customers, we watched as they talked to him. (The whole time they're conversing, he's eating a Caramello and drinking a Mountain Dew. I kid you not.) Then, we watched as they put him up against the back of the car, frisked and cuffed him. Out of his pockets, they pull bags of pills. Oh Em Gee, I was tripping. One officer stood with him between his car and the police car, while the other started searching the car. Out of the car came more stuff. Several bags of pills and what I'm thinking was marijuana. Needles, rolling papers, and other paraphernalia.

At this point, I was tripping hard. This guy was a regular. Always extremely sweet. Never rude. Total flirt. I always thought he was a stoner. That's his business. I never once thought he was anything else. And then... they pulled three shotguns and two pistols out of his trunk. I dropped the F bomb then. Mom didn't even look at me when I did it either. She was in shock too.

The police put him in the back of one of the cruisers and then came in to talk to me. They said they needed to talk to me. I figured it was just because I was on duty or whatever. WRONG. They said that I was the one who called it in. What The Truck? I remember hearing Mom gasp and her head swiveled a full 90 degrees in a nanosecond. I'm flipping out, oh no I did not call you. I know my voice was rising and I was panicking.

Apparently, his cousin that didn't like him had stepped into the bathroom and called the police. She claimed that he was out here selling drugs to kids while pumping gas. When they asked who she was, she replied, "I'm the lady at the gas station."

Now there is a reason I am panicking. In July of 1991, my Great Uncle Ronald, was kidnapped from Collinsville Trade Day. This happened in plain sight of Ronald's son Christopher (10 at the time) and my brother B. (12 at the time)

Uncle Ronald hauled produce from Florida to Alabama. He had also hauled some other, non legal things between states. Well, he got caught. Then he did the worst thing he could ever do. He turned snitch for the feds. Someone was dirty and leaked it to the people he had told on. (Happy Holler, anybody? Local people will get that.)

My uncle had a partner, Hollywood. (Don't ask, I have no clue where he got that nickname.) Hollywood took B & Chris to get a drink? I'm not sure. On their way back, they saw Uncle Ronald being shoved into a car while being hit in the head with a ball peen hammer. His body was later found in Wills Creek. He had been beaten and severely mutilated before they finally shot him.

What does his story have to do with mine? I learned my lesson from him. You do not snitch. The area in which I live is know for drugs. Sand Mountain Slim Fast - aka Meth. Happy Holler. There are just things you don't run your mouth about and that is one of them.

So when I found out chick had snitched and used me as her cover, I went on the defensive. The video from our store has been pulled and it shows I did not touch a phone at the time the call was made. I also let it be known to his family that I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Then I called a few.. um let's say acquaintances and put the word out on the street that I knew who the real snitch is. Ya'll may find that harsh, wrong, whatever.

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a dang. I refuse to die for someone else's stupidity. I will not put my mother through what my family has already been through. Personally, I like my life. I'd kinda like to stick around a few more birthdays. (Today, btw, is my 29th birthday)

The moral of this story? Mr. Mackey said it best. Drugs are bad, m'kay? Bonus points if you said it in his voice.

Love to all,
Allie

Hiding Out.

I've been laying low for awhile. I usually try to post every other day or so, but there's been alot going on. I worked 33 hours in 3 days, which I'm totally cool with. I just feel so drained. For the last two days, I've laid low, piled up in my bed catching up on the tv shows I've been queuing on Hulu.

I love that website. Since I work nights, I'm not always able to catch the shows I'm addicted to. I have lots of addictions. Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, Blue Bloods, Family Guy, the list goes on. Usually when I come home from work, I eat dinner, I play with the dogs, then I pass out. So... on my first day off, I start laundry then I grab my laptop and vegetate.

Do other grown people do this? I mean, seriously? Know what I did last night? I picked up a pizza and a six pack of Bud Light. (Wait. Are you shocked? Yes. I drink.)

I've had alot on my mind lately. Remember I was worried about my Grandma? Well, I talked with her about a week or so ago. She and I had a conversation with her doctor, and he took her very seriously. He scheduled several tests, including a MRI. Thankfully, it came back good. He also scheduled a test to check for Carotid Artery Stenosis which can cause a stroke, which can cause memory loss. It shows she has some blockage. So.. good news and bad news.

Remember my Minion? She was rushed to the hospital today. Why? Because she is completely irresponsible with herself. She is diabetic, but she refuses to take care of herself. She won't eat healthy. She will not take her insulin shots like she needs to. For example, today. She came home from school early because she wasn't feeling well. Her sugar was so high, it wouldn't register on the EMT's glucose monitor. How did that happen you wonder? Let's see. The most likely culprit? The canister of chocolate frosting in her book bag. When the ambulance finally got there, she had already started turning purple and was losing sight. When they got to the hospital and checked her glucose it was over 1200. TWELVE HUNDRED! I'm so mad right now. I'm torn between banging my head against a brick wall and taking a belt to her butt. Yes, I know. Violence never solves anything.

Anyway, I'm tired, I'm frustrated, and I'm worried. I'm going to sleep and hopefully in the morning I'll wake up and I'll find out I won the lottery. Wait. I don't play the lottery. Dang. Oh well. Night All

Love to all,
Allie

Darkness

My mother, during our conversation.

Alright. So what I'm going to be talking about is domestic violence. How it starts, escalates, and how it ultimately ends. I originally started working on this project because of someone who lost her daughter to domestic violence. At this moment, that is put on the back burner. She's just not ready to talk, and I completely understand. So that leaves me with all this work, and nothing to run with. Or does it?

A lot of people sweep this issue under the rug. It doesn't happen because they aren't personally involved. Maybe it does happen to them, but they are too scared, or don't know how to speak up. Some block it out because they don't want to remember it.

Well, this blog is about me, so... I guess this is where I step up to the plate. I grew up in a domestic violence situation. In my mother's own words, they were volatile. I remember hurtful words, broken dishes, busted walls, and shattered windshields. I will say this for my parents, they never hit each other in front of us. It was mostly a verbal thing.

So, I went shopping. I bought a voice recorder. And then... I sat down with Mama, Daddy, and my brother B individually, and recorded our conversations. It dang near killed me. It was so emotionally charged. It was so hard to hear things from Mama about Daddy, and to hear things from Dad about Mom. It was pretty easy to talk to B. He's like me, he remembered the screaming, harsh words, and shattered windshields. Like me, he also remembers that they never hit each other in front of us.

Let me just pause here to clarify my relationships with my family. Mama is my very best friend. She has been since my first breath. I've always been my Daddy's girl. I've had conversations with them that most people don't have with their parents. I know things about their relationship and them that very few do.

I started out with Mama. The first question I asked her was, "How did you meet Dad?" She told me about the fact that she and Dad's sister Pat were best friends, and they had met through her. "How did he ask you to marry him?" She couldn't quite remember the wording, but, she remembers it went to the effect of, "I love you, and I want to marry you and the kid." (My brother B, is technically my half brother. He was born in December of 1978 and my parents were married in February of 1979.)

"Who threw the first punch?" That was one of the hardest questions to ask. We talked about how often they fought. It wasn't a daily thing. It wasn't an all the time thing. Their verbal altercations didn't always turn physical. I remember one point in the conversation, Mama told me, "Your Daddy is not a monster." At that moment, I couldn't agree with her.

How can you sit there and tell me that someone who had locked her in the closet, left bruises on her, and shattered a baby's glass bottle against the wall, is not a monster? I asked her that question. She said, "We were monsters together. We were toxic to each other. Twisted and wrong. I antagonized him so much. I couldn't let him walk away." And that made me look at her in a whole new light.

I walked away from that conversation shaken and sick. Hearing those words about my father... it didn't break me, but it hurt. I had a hard time sleeping last night.

I talked to Daddy today. I had to. If I was going to do this right, I had to include his thoughts and memories. I sat him down and told him that I was planning a piece on domestic violence, and that it was going to be about our family. Dad was a little defensive to start with. I think he was afraid that I put the blame solely on him. After I explained that Mama accepted her share of the blame, that she admitted to antagonizing him, he opened up more.

He admitted to locking Mama in a closet. I'm not telling the story that led up to it, but the gist is, they were fighting, and he was trying to walk away, but she wouldn't let him. He was extremely upset. She stayed in his face, so he put her in the closet. "I couldn't make her leave me alone, so I put her in the closet. I sat down against the door so she couldn't get out, and I cried. I cried because of what she'd done to me." I'm not condoning what he did, and there is absolutely no excuse for hurting someone else, but after hearing what he said, I understand.

I closed the conversations by asking them, "What is your favorite memory from being married to each other?" Strangely enough, both of their memories revolve around me.

Dad's favorite memory was when B was standing up in his crib and was looking at the corner of the ceiling and said, "You're not gonna take my Daddy from me." About a month later, they found out Mama was pregnant with me.

Mama's favorite memory is when she was delivering me, Dad was standing by her side. The doctor looked up and said, "There's the head." Dad looked up and said, "What is it?" Mom says the doctor kinda smirked and said, "It's a head, I'm not sure yet." When I was finally out, the doctor looked up and said, "It's a girl." Mom said that Daddy got this look of wonder on his face and was jumping up and down and yelling, "We did it! We had a girl!"

My parents divorced in 1994. Mom remarried 3 months later to a man named Greg. Along with him, I got my awesome stepbrother D and my best girl Mamy. Greg died in 1996 in a motorcycle accident. Dad remarried in 1999 to a woman named Jeanne. They divorced not even 2 years later due to the fact that they were total opposites. Mom remarried again in2006 to Mike. (We have 18 million Mike's in my family. It's tons of fun during the holidays.) I got 2 more step siblings that are pretty good. Daddy remarried in April of last year to a lady named Rita. And now, 2 more steps. All in all, I have 4 brothers, and 3 sisters. To me, half and step don't really count. Family is all that matters.

Some days I wish my parents were still together. I know that will never happen. That saying... You can't go home, I think it pertains to this. Wanting to be a child again, being tucked in by your parents, kissed and loved, knowing the monsters aren't under the bed. They are happy. They are at least cordial, if not down right friendly at family functions that bring them together.

And now... me. I am emotionally drained. As I wrote this post, I listened to the conversations I had with Mama, Dad, and B over and over again. In some ways, I wish I could figure out how to post them on here, but then again, I'm afraid some people would hear them and think horrible things about my parents.

They were young, kids really, when they got married. They were learning together, how to be the grown ups. There were several stressors in their life. Two children at an early age, very little money, and not really sure what they were doing. They've grown into wonderful people. My mother is my role model, along with my dad. I look at them and see the strongest people in the world. I love them, and I am extremely grateful to them.

Domestic violence isn't something that can be swept under the rug. It will not go away if you ignore it. Mom & Dad were both lucky that it never turned deadly, because it can. This isn't the last I'll be talking about this.

If you or someone you know is in a violent situation, please, please, please. Get help. It is hard to walk away from all you've ever known, but you can. 1-800-799-SAFE(7233) or http://www.thehotline.org/

You may be asking... Allie, why are you posting your details? Well, if all the gory details that come out save 1 life, it's worth it. If one person reads this and gets out, it doesn't matter what I go through.

Love to all,
Allie

Departure From The Light.

Funny. That is the word I hear most often when talking about my blog. Several people were shocked to see that I'm so funny. I hear that all the time. I'm cool with that. I try very hard to keep my blog easy going, family friendly, funny, and light.

Well, I'm about to step into the darkness that is reality. This will be completely out of my comfort zone. My next few posts won't make you laugh as hard as you usually do. Instead, I hope they make you think. I want you to question yourself, your family, your friends, and your relationships.

I'm hoping that the posts will still be family friendly. After all, everyone needs to be in the know about what I'll be talking about. Yes. I am purposefully withholding the topic. Why? Well, cause I can. They will all be about the same issue, just different view points. So... I'm trying to get it all laid out in my head.

I'm off the next couple of days and they will be devoted to this blog and writing in general. Good night everyone.

Love to All,
Allie

Goblins and Ghouls

I know, I know. It's a little late, right? Well, all I can say is I'm sorry. Things have been a bit hectic lately, but really... Would life be any fun any other way? No. No it wouldn't. So, without further ado, photos from Halloween 2010. Warning: Cuteness may overload your brain.

I dub this Mace to the Face. No seriously, I'm not macing her. She's pregnant thankyouverymuch. It's just glitter.



This makes me think of Angels Among Us by Alabama. I have no clue why.




Alfalfa and a Punk Rocker. Isn't Alfalfa just so cute in his seriousness? Love it.





Baby Butterfly





Bat Girl. I have the Batman theme stuck in my head now.







Hard to call him Batman. More like Batbaby.




Birdman and The Good Witch. Not really, but she's a sweet person and I just can't call her a witch. By the way, that's Hot Guy That Smells Good. His name is Pete I found out.



My nephews. M is the tall one. S is the short one. They are both creeptastic.



So far, the only clown I can stand. (By the way - huge fear of clowns. I has it.) The cuteness is getting to me.



A cute witch.



Death and the Devil? Devil and her minion? All I know for sure is, girlie has the expression down.



Awwww! It's a baby Ewok. He better hide cause....



Darth Vader is here! Along with Jason. Check the princess in the back. She's like "Gimme my candy already. Dang!"



Jason was popular. He kept showing up. Creeped me out too. Can you hear the music?



My moms' friend Sherrys' grandkids. Why yes. I was raised in the South. What tipped you off?



Lady Gaga stopped by. I totally took this pic by accident. I'd taken one and Ryan was posing so I totally had to get this.



Preteen Mario. I said, "I'm sorry, Mario, but your Princess is in another castle." Kid comes back with, "Aw man. Can I at least have candy?" Yeah. He got extra candy. Such a sweet boy.



Luigi and The Princess came in not minutes later. When I informed them that they had just missed Mario, their faces lit up. I love the innocence of kids.



Monkey See, Monkey Do.





Mortal



Kombat



What do a pirate, a princess, and a creepy guy from Scream have in common? I'm not sure. You tell me.



A hippie, a happy Frakenstein, and... I'm not sure. A soldier from Halo, maybe? I don't care, but I love the look on his face. It's kinda half amused, half exasperated. Very good manners, though.

My sister Mames, holding Spiderson JonJon and my sister in law Jen, holding my niece Bacon the Witch.





Nemesis





Tinkerbell and the Punk Pirate. Check the hot pink skull n bones.



Fairy Princess



Killing me with the cuteness. Such a sweet baby puppy.



Purple Princess. I love her facial expression.



A much prettier Queen of Hearts than Helena Bonham Carter.



All I can hear is... "Rawr, I'm a lion!"



Roll Tide Baby! I love his face. Just so sweet.



Scooby Dooby Doo. Where are you? I loved that cartoon as a kid. Who am I kidding? I still love it.

Scream. Louder. Nope. Still can't hear you.

Snoopy.

Soldier Boy

Super Baby

Thomas the Train

Wild Witchy West

My Unc was a zombie. His grandson was.. a ninja? (Unc is short for uncle. I've called him that forevah.)




Alright. I hope your brain didn't explode from the cuteness. I hope you didn't have a heart attack from the scariness. I'm going to bed now. Night everyone.

Love to all,

Allie