Writing Successes: Went to Toasted Chat. Advertised "Three Cheers & A Tiger" contest. Wrote in blog yesterday. (Yay! It's becoming a habit!)

Music Playing: Various "World Music" Mp3's I downloaded from "Egypt 700". Basically, a lot of Arabic. I realize this is kind of odd given the day and the state of the world at large. But I like it anyhow.

Exerpt from "And You Think You've Got It Bad" by Barbara Fairchild Gramm

Her Bark Is Worse Than Her Bite (section 2)
Women are universally noted for fondness of children, strength of attachment for friends, for their ease, politeness, kindness, deep religious and devotional feeling, refinement, ambition, curiosity, quickness and very good taste.
On top of all this, a woman must look her best at all times and in all places, and be as lithe from head to heel as a willow wand for all the duties and functions she must perform.
Woe to the young woman with wasp-like waist, who lives on candies, hot bread, pastry and pickles, whose list-less brain and idle hands seek no profitable occupation, whose life is given to folly, remember that to this ignorance may yet be traced the downfall of a nation.

Oh man, and you thought it was Bush who screwed up the nation! No ladies, I fear it is us! Given to folly! Living on candies and pickles! But that's all right. I'm sure our devotional feelings will pull us back up. Surely those of us with a fondness for children can save those of us with list-less brains and idle hands? Of course! And do I even need to point out that women's self-image was messed up long before television? I'm not sure what a "willow wand" is, but I'm kind of glad I don't measure myself by it.

So, remember that story about my stepmother doing the dishes for 4 1/2 hours? There was a reason she revisited this story. I asked how dad revealed our past to her.

Our kitchen was U-shaped, but very long. It faced out toward the street, with a window directly above the double sink. This afforded the poor soul doing the dishes a fabulous view of the yard, the driveway, the street and the giant empty field across the way. (Man, snake flashback! That field was FULL of garter snakes.) But when you were slogging through 3 years of dirty dishes, it kind of came in handy.

Especially when someone came to call. So, my stepmother is doing the dishes and this man pulls in the driveway. By the time he's out of the car, she's dried her hands and gone around the bookcase through the dining room and to the door. (I made this house in the Sims once. It's kind of cool.) Anyhow, this fellow asks for dad. My stepmother explains that's he's really quite ill and can't see anyone unless it's very important. The fellow says, "It's important. I'm his probation officer."

Floored and amazed, she has the guy come in and goes down the hall to where my father is having a nice snooze. She wakes him and explains about the man in the living room. "There's someone here to chat with you. And then, you'll chat with me," she says ominously. (Seriously, this was hilarious to listen to her relate.) So, after his probation officer and him chat, he goes to where she's calmly waiting in the now-spruced-up dining room.

She said he was actually very forthcoming. After all, they'd only been dating two weeks. I mean, that's pretty good. He was honest, and explained how he'd been convicted of child abuse. He hadn't had to go to jail, but he'd had a lot of counseling and he'd had to be on probation for five years. Staying away from the usual things, I suppose, not leaving the country, this kind of idea. (He was never ordered to stay away from me. I had chosen to go with mother because I figured I didn't really have a lot of choice in the matter. Child brains, I guess. My mother did assure me that wasn't true, but to me, it was law, written in blood somewhere. I was very black and white back then.)

A couple of days later, dad goes and gets all his offical papers (there were papers? wow!) and gives them to my stepmother. It was the proof that he'd been having therapy and that he'd been all right, and, well, I have no idea.

I wonder now if there was a transcript. I'd kind of like to know what I said. I don't remember, of course. I recall a dark room with a long table and a lot of people around it. They were the "Grand Jury", and just the name scared me to death. Then I said stuff, but I was very focused. See, I think Mom or Dad was in the room and every word was like a nail in the coffin. I was condemning him! So, needless, I don't remember what I said.

Anyhow, that's how my stepmother learned about my dad's past, and my past. I mean, the bones of it anyhow. She, rather nicely, said that of course she doesn't need details. I remarked this was a good thing since I don't really have too many details. Anyhow....

Then Kelleye came along.

And I'll tell you about that one tomorrow. ;)