Evidence 101

EVIDENCE 101...Wherever you go, there you are...







Monday, August 31, 2015

Stark Naked Updated

Blog Glog

My posting is sporadic if best. I think mostly because my life is filled with kiddo stuff and mom duties and my time to myself is limited. That's where you would find me in the past. Online writing a ditty. Now it's driving to and fro, watching sports, running, and trying to keep up with life. Life is kicking me in the booty.

It would be no surprise that editing the Boogie Man Is My Friend and rewriting the entire book is going at less than turtle speed.

After all, I have to now fit in time for my renewed love for fishing and cop friends. I have neglected many of my friends, actually, and I've missed the socialization.


Chug The Bug

The only thing I am sure of is my daughter is thriving in school here both in academics and sports. Her social life is average. The nice thing is all the moms keep a tight rein on their kids so I don't feel like a meanie weenie. For the most part, my daughter is top notch. We have our teenager-mother moments of holy shitness, but I am very proud of her.



Page The Wages

A hunt for a new job is constant in order for me to get ahead and not behind in life since my wages do not sustain life. No kidding. My inventory is now all sold from the store. Basically, I just got rid of it at a fire sale price. The release as the last item was sold was immense and I didn't realize how much that ate at me. Business is closed. Ah. Joy.

I'm tired of living below the poverty level. For reals. I've learned valuable lessons.

I'm still slated for Greece. That makes me excited about something.

Harry Potter Updates

Oliver continues to be the pantie thief. He is fast and furious. My new underwear were shredded in 2.5 seconds yesterday. My good ones. I can't afford anymore underwear additions and I am very picky about underwear. I do not like granny panties. I only like certain bikini styles and with my allergies, I have to be picky about fabric.  I'm not into chafing either. Therefore, we punt.

I have been very careful about putting clean ones away right away and he can't get them in my drawer...AND keeping dirty clothes out of reach until laundered. However, Bug is not. She is a misguided teenager living in bliss. Well, I wish the examples would be her undies not mine. She just takes laundry out willy nilly and throws it on the sofa without folding any of the clothes or putting them away. Grr. It eats my goat. And I don't even have any goats. I think we just need to resort to all being stark naked like times of Adam and Eve and heck with this humility and vanity. It would be cheaper.

Murphy and Moose are very clingy. It's odd, really. I often wonder if it isn't because they sense my sickness and battle with skin issues right now. Maybe they try to heal me with love or fur ball osmosis. Perhaps they have some voodoo magic.

Both of them snuggle up to me and lay their heads on my shoulders, lap, or feet. It feels like Otis squared. Oliver continues to growl at both of them when they get too close to his territory, but he is fickle and it is only when Sasha Fierce shows up, his alter ego. Otherwise, they all three surround me. Bug is not a fan and tries to deter their attention to her.

That's about it. I'm a ball of fire, I tell ya.




Monday, August 24, 2015

Vodka Moms

There is so much action and chaos at the Harry Potter House on school mornings.

It overwhelms me.

First, I try to get up before anyone else so I can enjoy my morning cup of joe and get my game face on before getting into the shower. Murphy is lazy and tries to talk me into staying in bed longer than my alarm tells me. Moose usually goes to Bug's room.

Oliver is Oliver. He starts all the drama.

His morning starts off with nabbing the discarded panties from Bug on the bathroom floor and running at full speed down the stairs keeping them from Murphy who wants the other end. This pretty much sounds like a herd of Fat Bastards. Usually, this starts a tug of war and wallah! The panties become sling shots and strands of cotton.

Which is all followed by a screaming teenager and buckets of tears.

I think it is actually an effective learning tool of picking up clothing items and putting them where they belong...LIKE IN THE HAMPER.

All this.

Whilst I drink my coffee watching the news or a recorded show. My peace interrupteth.

Erg.

It's like living in a house full of kids.

And only one speaks English...but very LOUDLY. She has no inside voice.

Ring ring. Phone. Answer.

Man cop, "I caught a robber! Woohoo! Whatcha' doing? Getting ready for work? Gas station. Girl victim.Gotta go."

For a moment, I got a jolt and it wasn't from my coffee. Was it adrenaline? Surprise? Anxiety because it wasn't me on the robber thingy? Or just too damn early in the morning to absorb things?

I choose the latter.

Yep. Grand Central station.

At least I am entertained.

It is fully understandable why some mothers get committed to the funny farm and have to wear white jackets or drink Vodka at 6:00 AM or pop pills with Vodka at 6:00 AM.

Although...I'm not considering it...it is something I comprehend.



Perhaps it would have helped me to have some empathy on the job when I dealt with Vodka Moms. Lesson lost.

This looks particularly refreshing....



I am now accepting products for reviews on any type of Vodka or wine.







Friday, August 21, 2015

Decompression Days Disaster...

The stench was overwhelming. It triggered senses that I had long forgotten existed. Plus my nostrils were super sensitive to that familiar smell. Where was the body?

Yeah.

Never put your wet wading shoes in the trunk of your car in the heat of summer.

Beat me.

Wow.



Gag reflexes still work marvelously. Sometimes, I wonder where I place my brain. Perhaps I need to call Serv Pro and have them do an overhaul on my car. No need to tell them it was a fishing episode. I could have fun.

"Yes, I am needing someone to come clean the dead body smell out of my trunk. How much does your company charge for that?"

In different news...I have made some observations...

I forgot how I acted when I was a cop until I observe other cops while being on the outside. It made me think how much I must have driven others crazy and I was wound so tight that even a pea would not have fit up my butt. Not that I would have tried that, but just an observation of how much stress law enforcement are under.

For example, I realized this last week that I, too, would get upset when my off duty plans did not work out according to plan. Everything was scheduled and thought out and if it went awry, it made me discombobulated. It works the same in man cops. Throws off their game.

Maybe it's because the off time is so precious.

I also got my game face on for work. Plus my game coffee and my game music on the way to work. I think this is a necessity. The difference between man cops and girl cops is I think the men brood longer and are more serious about game faces. Mine was a "Rocky moment." Theirs' seems to be more of an "Ortiz moment."

We waste so much time on these mental garbage moments that we don't adapt very well to change sometimes. Sometimes I think back and that might be why cops don't like new policies, learning new equipment, new rules, new demands. Now, things are much more relaxed for me.

Too bad all of law enforcement organizations didn't require cops to have a paid hiatus for about 1 year in the middle of their careers. I think it would be healthy. But no one is going recognize that unless they take a break.

When I came back the second time to duty, I was way ahead of the bus. Not to brag, but it puts life and cop work, communication skills, and dealing with people in a whole new perspective. I gained a lot in the 9 months I was off the job...and no I was not pregnant. It probably helped I was farming and making the world beautiful with my landscaping therapy.

Now, while I watch my new found friends from an outside point of view, I feel their pain. I really do. It tugs at my heart and trying to help them relax and decompress on days off by giving my advice probably falls on deaf ears. I don't know if I would have understood it myself back then.

So, I just have to shrug it off and lead by example. Maybe it will strike a chord someday.

Monday, August 17, 2015

Decompression Day #959

I learned a lot about myself this weekend.

First, I haven't fully decompressed from police life, but I see a progression.

Yesterday, on a hunt for an old but new fishing spot, I realized that man cops are wound really tight. I used to be like that. Not a man cop, but wound really tight. Plus, everything they do, they think they are going to be jeopardizing their man cards, so they tread lightly and go afraid.



Trudging through the river and rocks for some distance, we were pointing out some good spots where the bass might lie in wait. Mind you, I'm a trout person, so this is somewhat different for me. Good thing most river fish think alike so I didn't look too stupid.




As I was walking along the rocks, I noticed a natural phenomenon. I stopped suddenly. The man cop behind me kept making noise and talking about the great rock area on the bank as the best place to cast.

Then it happened.

I was surrounded in tornado fashion by hundreds of butterflies. They landed on me. I put my arms out to enjoy all the magic.

Then it happened.

"Look."

"Yeah. So."

"It's amazing. Isn't that the coolest thing?"

"Who cares about butterflies? Did you see that rock area on the bank? Prime fishing holes."

*blink*blink*

I chose to ignore the triteness.

As I watched, the butterfly brigade reformed into a glob on some more rocks. I snuck up on them like Elmer Fudd. I braced myself for another tornado effect.  I did this over and over again. Apparently, it did not amuse man cops who could not appreciate such a natural wonder.

"Here I am so excited about a great fishing spot and you are fiddling with butterflies."

"Excuse me. This is magic. Look. One just landed on my boob."

"Not impressed."

"With my boob or the butterflies?"

"I really think when we bring our poles down I am going to work that bank with the rock ledges."

"Oh wow. Look at all the different colors!There's an orange one and a blue one..."

"You are like oh let's go...fishing! and SQUIRREL!"

*blink*blink*

Not that I wasn't excited about fishing because it is good for the soul and one of my favorite things to do. BUT...how often do you get tornadoed by hundreds of butterflies in the wild?

I think I had been wound that tight at one time when everything had to be according to plan and just so. If any off road driving occurred, the car was derailed. What a bitch I must have been.

Yep. I'm pretty sure I acted like a bitch.

Note to self. Take a moment to enjoy new things and gifts put in front of you.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Off Road Driving

I have not expired on some side road by the hands of a serial killer in case you were wondering. My life plate is full right now. Edits to all the old books are in order and occupy much of my time as does my social calendar. What am I going to do with them when they are redone? I don't know. It will make me feel better.

Bug's birthday was yesterday and now we coast into the next holiday. Only so many days before Labor Day. Gotcha. You thought I was going to give you one of those Christmas plugs.

On the way to work today for some reason my mind started wandering about court testimony. Weird. I have no idea what goes there. Perhaps it was an idea which generated in my head about my next serious post (yikes boring topic) for the site I write for. Or maybe it is a sign I am going nuts. You pick.



Then, when I got to work, I got the computer rolling, all that morning prep stuff and checked my personal email. I know...bad me. I had offered to help my friend's son (33 yr old) choose a profile pic for his online dating adventure. We discussed cropping the pic to make it nice without the background stuff. And...I offered to help write his blurbs so he possibly attracts a NICE girl instead of a ho. So...directions...clean up...put a nice shirt on and take a selfie. Yeah. Don't send Auntie Kathryn your penis. And wear pants. SMH. I swear. No off road driving with Fargo. Come on.

I might be able to see where the evolution of ho's comes into play.



My life. Extraordinary. It's what's for dinner.

Not the penis.