Once upon a time a middle-aged couple went on a little vacation. It had been years since the couple had gone away without the kids and they were very excited by the adventure that awaited them. Not only were they looking forward to sleeping in and having uninterupted conversations, they were also kind of excited about the hotel where they were to lodge. This hotel had just opened. In fact this couple would be the first people ever to stay in their particular room.

They arrived at the hotel late into the evening, exhausted. They were shown to their rooms. The room, upon entering, gave off a strange smell. They thought this odd for it being such a brand new hotel. But they shrugged it off in the first few minutes of their stay. They were too tired to care. They went to bed that evening. They awoke early, unrefreshed. The bed was just right. The pillows and blankets were comfy, but… That strange smell seemed so much stronger. They called a member of the hotel staff up to the room.

They started checking behind furniture, the tv, and curtains in an attempt to locate the source of the smell. They realized the smell seemed to be strongest near the bed. The couple was grossed out to think that perhaps a small mouse had wiggled into a box spring and died there.

By this point, the a housekeeper was called. They took the bed apart, down to the rectangular platform the bed was set upon. And there it was… A decomposing body. Police were called. (And I’m sure the couple freaked out big time.) The murder had access to the hotel as the building process was finalized. The body was wrapped in heavy plastic and placed under the bed. Someone had thought the plastic and platform would contain the body and smell. Someone thought that body would never be found.

Did the couple continue on their journey? Did they get free vouchers to stay at sister hotels? Did they ever stay in a hotel again? I don’t know. But I wish I did.

We heard this story in Napa almost eight years ago. While hiking, we started talking with a couple who were friends of the unfortunate people who stayed in this mentioned hotel. And I thought it would make a great Halloween story. Hope your Halloween is a happy one!

The support I received after this post was amazing. (Thankfully, the scary ordeal is no longer “scary” nor an “ordeal”.) But I wanted to thank everyone who took time to read the post and comment. So I’ll be thanking a group of people as a part of each post until I’ve thanked everyone.

So thanks to: DesignHer Momma, Gnome, Tina, (my lovely cousin) Linlee, Aprylsantics, Blogversary, Kristie, Jen, Ree, Awesome Mom, Oh, The Joys, Anne, Jen, Helen, Dorene, Mama Loves, Tracy Treasure, Aimee Greeblemonkey, Kris, Amy and (my little brother) Matt.

Served up fresh this week: Here’s something for St. Louis Blogger’s Guild. And then there was the wrap-up of Once Upon a Potty for Parent Blogger’s Network as well as the launch for Amazing Baby. There’s also a post about MRSA, how to say Boo to the Flu and a giveaway on the Midwestern Mommy Reviews site. Check it out!

So “the boy” wants to be a rock-star when he grows up. He has no other career plans as of late. So we decided that if he wants to “rock the house”? He probably needs to, you know, learn a musical instrument.

He was angling for the drums or the electric guitar. We made a deal. He can have the coveted electric guitar when he turns eight IF he sticks with the guitar lessons. So now he’s learning the strings and notes. Watching him jam out with his itty bitty guitar while making up songs about soccer, Star Wars, cats, the Wii, the dog, and his best friends? Cuteness of legendary proportions. 

But if he ever hits the big time, I’ll probably have to stop calling him “Bunny” – especially in front of his bandmates, manager and groupies. Because, you know, how badass is it when your mom walks into a room and says things like, “Bunny! Wash your hands before you eat anything in Saturday Night Live’s Green Room. And don’t leave crumbs on their sofa” Or, “Bunny! Did you put your dirty underwear in the hamper while you were in the tour bus? I’m not picking it up for you!”

Perhaps I’m over-exaggerating on those points, but I can totally see me saying, “You lost your pic pouch again? Bunny! You’re 24 years old. I’m not always going to be around to keep track of that for you!” Or, “You shouldn’t wear your black leather pants that tight. Everyone’s can see your ‘junk’. Besides, I want grandchildren someday.”

He already gets the “drugs make you do stupid things so don’t ever do them” spiel every now and again. But if he starts performing in front of an audience of non-relatives, I may have to give him the “keep it in your pants and stay away from skanky ho’s” speech.

Don’t think I won’t.

Congrats to Tanyetta for winning the FREE box of My Fruit-Roll Ups.

Oh and if you’re looking for a tropical family vacation idea, click on Midwestern Mommy Reviews .

The hubby and I were one of those couples who couldn’t wait to find out the sex of our baby. I remember the moment we laid eyes on our little boy — and his privates. There he was in black and white, grainy glory — giving us the finger.

My first thought was “What in the WORLD am I going to do with a boy?” Its not that I didn’t like boys. They just sort of scared me because I didn’t understand the them. 

Now that I have a little boy, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Its been an educational and entertaining journey to say the least. But then again, I still don’t understand the boys that are older than Seth — especially the ones that range from 8 to 12-ish.  I call that ”the meat head stage”. Why is it fun to beat the crap out of each other? Why is it hysterically funny to fart in someone’s face? Just. don’t. get.

A few days ago, three neighbor boys (in this age range) were hurling aluminum bats at each other. They weren’t running away from the bats, they were trying to CATCH them. For fun! (These are sweet kids with great parents, by the way.)

Last week Seth’s play date Nick was telling us about his big brother’s best friend “Scooter”. And how Scooter once knocked Nick down and peed in his face. At the time I assumed Scooter was a dog. But nope. Scooter is a person. (Don’t know anything about Scooter. But my guess as to Scooter’s future? Involves at least two trips to jail and if he’s lucky, a stint in some ”g0lden sh0wer” type porn. )

I know my sweet, albeit squirrelly, little boy will have us visiting urgent care facilities in a few years due to his own meat head antics. It seems to be some rite of passage. But thinking about it makes my palms sweat. Who knew the temptation to wrap a kid in 32 layers of bubble wrap could be so strong? 

P.S. Just reviewed a cool new kids toy thanks to Parent Bloggers Network. For my review, click here.

This past weekend I went with a group of superfun chicks to the Beale Street Music Festival in Memphis. T’was fun (until I freaked out Saturday evening). It was a trip filled with “firsts”. Here’s the run down…

The first night of the festival was rainy in a big, bad way. Despite rain gear, the chicks and I were soaked to the bone. It was the first time I ever stood in the pouring rain waiting for a band to start their set. 

That night was also the first time I’ve ever been in a port-a-potty while it was rocking. (No clue why it started rocking a bit. I don’t remember the winds being that strong. But you know what they say, “if the port-a-potty is a’rocking — get the hell out of there as fast as you can.”)

On a yummy note, after the festival Friday, Jess (see this story and this one about her kids) and I went to an eatery across from the Peabody Hotel. Crawfish macaroni. Never had that before. Mmmmm. Tas-tay!

Saturday also brought a myriad of new experiences - like my first temporary tattoo and my first visit to BB King’s. It was in this packed bar some guy kept pestering me to leave the bar and go back to his hotel room – while another man kept humping my leg. THAT was definitely a first for me. (Both men were sloppy drunk. “Humpty” was dancing.) I didn’t know the “mom who looks like she’s on her way to the grocery store” look was so tantalizing! (Make a mental note ladies!) Who knew that if you want to find yourself a little unwanted attention, all you have to do is put on a $15 pair of capri’s from Kohl’s, a 6-year-old jacket and your wedding ring. Oh and when they talk to you, you should probably be polite. Apparently, to a grossly liquored up man? Politeness = flirting. 

At one point, I went out to the back patio to escape and to get a bit of quiet. (An employee said I could go back there. Apparently other employees disagreed.) This was the first time, I’ve ever had two angry women scream at me simultaneously. It was also the first time someone has called me a “stupid white bitch” (in my presence). 

So I went back to the bar area only to see Humpty and The Pest looking for me. (It got to a point where any time I’d talked to someone else, they’d shoo the other person away and continue to pester and hump.) I was relieved to see dear friend Dana. This was the first time I’ve ever started crying in a bar. (Should I mention I was very sober during this whole ordeal?) I felt trapped and creeped out. So she and I went outside and talked. (Humpty came following but at least he backed off when he saw I was upset.) It started to feel like a horrible experience I went through with a date many years ago. (The guy I’m referring to also did THIS.) The “fight or flight” reaction kicked in. After that, I couldn’t relax.

That brings me to another first… The first time I ever left a trip early. Dear friend Chris had to get home on Sunday. So I cut my trip short. The chicks I was with were very cool about me leaving early. And once home, I spent the rest of Sunday laying around, watching bad movies and gorging on chocolate from this place. And that night, dear friend Sarah sent me pics of all of the cool stuff she and the rest of the chicks were doing. That was very sweet, yes?

All in all, a few weird experiences but the wild wimmins I was with (these chicks plus another named Tina) are super fun. We all look out for each other. We all support each other. We have a blast when we get together. And being with chickies like that? Outweighs any bad.

Thanks to the blogger who loves Johnny Depp more than any woman on the face of the earth can — Mrs. G. She asked about the trip and then we talked about what I should blog about.

She’s not one to walk into a room. She sashays into a room. She owns the room.  

People don’t just notice her — they are entranced by her. 

She may be petite but she’s got this larger than life personality. Within the first minute of meeting her you can’t help but realize that she is a force of nature. 

And when she dreams? Of course she dreams big. She was a track star in high school. She was a cheerleader for the Arizona Cardinals. She has been a lead singer for a number of popular bands in Arizona for more than 10 years. In fact, she’s performed throughout the United States and even abroad. THIS VIDEO is proof that she can not only pack a venue but whip the crowd into a state of fun and frenzy.

Honestly? I didn’t like her when I first met her during the (hubby’s family) Thanksgiving extravaganza of 1997.  I felt incredibly threatened by her. Here was this outgoing, georgous woman with amazing hair, a perfect figure, and limitless talent standing within inches of me. I was overwhelmed by her confidence. I’d never met anyone like her. She had this amazing energy and charisma! She represented all the things I so desperately WANTED to be but wasn’t. 

One day, I finally admitted to myself that I was insanely jealous of her. Being brutally honest with myself gave me clarity. I wasn’t just jealous of her appearance or accomplishments but of her ambition and attitude. Once I admitted that, I saw how much I could learn from her. I began to follow her career with great interest and excitement. Like the rest of Marc’s aunts, uncles, and cousins, I was cheering her on. I was very proud of her and envisioned the day I’d hear her voice on the radio.

And then she got cancer. She didn’t know it though. She brushed off symptoms because she didn’t have health insurance. Her symptoms became more prevalent over time. When she finally saw the doctor, in late 2005, she was told her cervical cancer was at a Stage 4. It had spread to her abdomen and lymph nodes.

She quit performing and underwent chemo, radiation and a few surgeries. She focused her energies on beating her cancer.  She was fiercely determined to grace the stage again.

In mid-December of 2007, doctors told her there was nothing more they could do.  They gave her a week to live. She was transferred to hospice. But she never gave up fighting. She, her parents, sister, fiance, extended family and friends never stopped hoping. They never stopped praying for a miracle. 

She survived the week. She was even strong enough to move back into the home she shared with her fiance.  She survived another week. She was able to attend Christmas festivities with her family. She survived the month. And then another. And then another. No matter how tired… No matter what disappointing news the doctors threw at her… She never stopped fighting. She never surrendered.

But today, on Easter Sunday, her body stopped working. She was 34.

My heart aches for Amanda, her parents, sister Ashley, fiance Gary, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. I didn’t know her well but I’m grateful for our brief encounter. She had no idea of the precious gift she gave me. She’s a shining example on how to pursue one’s passion –  and to live, as well as love, with everything you have.  To me, that is the essence of Amanda Star.  

As many people know cancer not only leaves a wake of heartbreak but also monumental medical expenses. Donations are greatly appreciated. Click on this site for more information.

My heart is so heavy these days. 

I have a difficult enough time sleeping. But when I travel its far worse. I’m really weird about noise, pillows, texture of blankets, mattresses and a few other things. Usually I don’t manage more than an hour or two a night when on the road. After awhile the stress of being in a new place and no sleep wear on me. My routine is disrupted, I don’t get any time to myself, and I get really edgy and bitchy. I usually end up with at least one migraine during a trip and several after the trip. (Ask poor Kristie. She was my BlogHer roommate.)

Before the trip I was completely stressed. Things only got worse while on the trip. I took on some projects I thought I could finish while on the trip. I vastly overestimated the time I MIGHT have to get these projects done. I barely slept and had a super nasty migraine over the course of the trip. Honestly, I was ready to go home 12 hours after I got there. And no offense to Texas. Ya’ll have great weather but I seem to get this way anywhere I go these days.

During our last day in Texas, my cell phone died in the middle of a conversation with Marc. Our flight got cancelled. I got angry. Because he was trying to make back up arrangements, he was late in picking us up (he dropped us off at a movie while he went to a meeting). And I when my son asked why daddy wasn’t there yet (we’d be waiting almost three hours.) I had no idea and I assumed the worst. I said something very mean and unfair about Marc which Seth repeated within minutes of seeing Marc.

To make matters worse, I felt betrayed by my son for saying this to Marc. I know! He’s five. How stupid. I had no right to badmouth my husband in front of my son, let alone feel hurt by what Seth repeated to his father. The next day I made my son feel guilty for relaying my comment to Marc.

Oh and did I mention that at one point while in the car with Seth and Marc (we ended up driving home. Yes! At least 11 hours in a car — all of those miles covered in about 20 hours.) Seth was talking and I yelled at him to “Shut up.”

God, I can be so ugly and mean. And I’m so horrified and ashamed. I hadn’t packed enough meds for an extra day so that meant no sleep and a raging migraine. I hurt so bad I seriously thought I should go to the hospital. Most of my energy was directed at not throwing up. Turns out I have a nasty sinus infection now which was probably a reason as to why I was feeling so crappy before as well as during the trip.

My husband is really angry and disgusted with me. I patched things up with Seth but my marriage seems as if it might not recover from this. There have been other fights through the years and I think we are both so tired of fighting. I don’t know how to fix this. I fear its a permanent rift between us. And that really scares and saddens me.

My migraines, sinus issues, and insomnia don’t help. Because there are times, after a good week or so of not sleeping and feeling almost constant pain, I start to feel like a raw, exposed nerve. I seriously start to wonder if I’m on the cusps if I’m losing my mind. I start feeling shakey and sick and weak. My husband doesn’t understand what it is like to live with constant pain. (But I can see how it would suck to live with me.) I start to get depressed. I’ve tried all sorts of medications to help. So far what I’m on now has been the best way to stave off migraines but even the meds are no match for all of the triggers that can set off a migraine. (It is better now. But I still get weeks where I’ll have 4-6 migraines in one week.)

But insomnia, sinus issues, and migraines aside, I feel so ashamed of my behavior to the two men I love dearly. When I apologized to Seth again today he said, “Don’t worry mom. You were just having a few bad days.” I feel like I don’t deserve his love. Even now, the whole thing just reduces me to tears. And I’m working on taking some steps that will hopefully prove to be constructive. I feel like I’ve sunk to an all time low. I didn’t control my frustration and got irrationally angry. And I took it out on two people I love the most.

So I’m sorry about not visiting. I’m sorry this is so heavy and depressing. I’m sorry I can be so toxic. Trolls, or anyone for that matter, if you want to tell me what a horrible bitch I am, you are more than welcomed to. Because I deserve it. I did act like a totally selfish, horrible, ugly, hateful person. And I’m so horrified. But I just wanted to let you guys know why I haven’t been around. I felt like I owed ya’ll an explanation.

Oh and I wrote a review for Building Bobland Bay for Parent Bloggers Network. If you are interested click HERE.

What kind of a moron goes to Walgreen’s to get cough syrup for herself, sees a big-ass box of Russell Stover’s chocolates, spends 10 minutes staring at the box trying not to buy it, then breaks down, buys it, gets home and realizes, “D’oh, forgot the cough syrup”. This moron ends up eating the entire box in three days, feels all bloated, gross and promises herself that she won’t ever do that again. (Ok. She won’t EVER do that again until Easter.)

And then? A week later? She goes to Walgreen’s again for cough syrup. Again, this moron stops at the candy aisle — the siren song of the Russell Stover’s candies impossible to resist. She stares for another 10 damn minutes. She buys the same big-ass box she bought last time. She goes home, starts eating and realizes, ”D’oh, forgot the cough syrup”. AGAIN! (cough, cough)

This would be that moron.* If you see her wandering around your neighborhood, DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT. She may seem normal enough but DO NOT let her in your house if you are harboring any sort of chocolate candies (or cosmopolitans). She’s had PMS for two weeks now. Her will power ain’t that great. Fortunately for you, she’s not dangerous. And she’s not real bright. She is easily distracted. If you find her in your home, mention that your family is still highly contagious after a violent bout with a stomach bug. Or ask if she could babysit your six kids for a minimum of 12 hours tomorrow. You’d be dropping off your kids at 5.a.m. She will most likely run out of your house so fast, you’ll just see a blur** of blond hair*** and track pants.

*Last summer, this moron took 25 pics of herself before she got a pic that made her big nose not seem so ginormous. This was that ”lucky shot.” She usually looks sort of scruffy and homeless. 

**Ok. It won’t really be a blur because she’s a slow runner.

***Partially blond. The woman REALLY needs to make an appointment to fix the old highlights.

See this box of chocolates? The entire box may, or may not, have been hidden in a closet (under some blankets) and eaten over the course of three days.

This may, or may not, have been the ONLY food a certain blogger consumed over those three days. Candy! For lunch, dinner and breakfast!

This may, or may not, be what happens each time a certain blogger buys a box of Russell Stover’s candies. Will power? Why’d you just fly out the window? When ya coming back? What’s that? You say you can’t compete with a big ole’ box of chocolates? You’ll come back when the box is empty? Um ok.

This may, or may not, most likely happen again at least two more times this year — especially once Easter and Christmas roll around.

There may, or may not, have been a slight constipation issue as a result.

But I’ll never tell!

Last night a bunch of us girls went to the Alton Belle to see these guys.

How was the night? Let’s put it this way… None of us have to worry about taking calcium supplements for awhile — in a few short hours, we got enough CHEESE to last us at least twelve months.

Being that I despise casinos and these sorts of shows, I wasn’t originally going to go. But at the last minute I realized that this sort of opportunity makes for blogging gold people, GOLD!

The highlights:The nine chicks I was with were alot of fun and feeling pretty sassy.  If you happened to be at the show? I was with the rowdy wimmins who kept chanting, “Take off your pants! Take off your pants!”

Note to the Chippendales:We paid $21 a ticket. Less crappy dancing! Less singing from that one guy who thinks he can sing! And less lip-syncing. MORE TROU DROPPING. There was one time you all actually dropped your drawers. And then you turned around so we could only see your (covered) butts. TURN AROUND NEXT TIME. The women are there to see what kind of heat you’re all packing. Why do you think there were a bunch of chicks shouting, “take off your pants!” 

Second note to Chippendales:You’ve underestimate us women. It is totally fine to not be 6 feet tall. Wearing Tom Cruise shoes (the kind with soles that are at least three inches thick) doesn’t make you look taller. It makes you look like a dweeb. Plus, we are women. Who told you we wouldn’t notice your stupid shoes?

So funny, yet incredibly gross moment: Watching these guys stick their faces in womens’ crotches. And they didn’t discriminate. They were even seen on the balcony level sticking their faces in the crotches of women far, far beyond the age of 65.

What I learned: Even women far, far beyond the age of 65 like having the face of an oily beau-hunk up against their crotch.

What I also learned: Apparently to these guys? A dollar’s a dollar, no matter WHO it comes from. Ick.

New business idea of the night: While a few of us were waiting in line for beers, two of the girls in our group got to talking. If they owned a bar, what would it be called? “The Fun Hole” of course.

To sum up the evening? Mixing booze with oily “cheese” should be tried once. But odds are, you probably won’t want to repeat the experience. But if you find yourself in such a situation, grin and bear it, then blog about it!

I don’t do long posts very often. But I thought I’d share a bit of my past… (And while I didn’t give the guy’s last name, I admit, I was tempted.)

Once upon a time there was a small town girl who moved to the “big city”. She was 23, had never lived on her own, and had just ended a 4-year relationship with a man who’d been her best friend. All of these changes were very overwhelming. She felt very lost and painfully vulnerable.

One day she met a boy named Craig. She was drawn to his cocky charm. (Being that she hadn’t dated much, she didn’t realize that “cocky charm” is really just a nice way of describing an arrogant jerk.)

She definitely wasn’t in love. But she was lonely and she enjoyed getting to know him.

He was a few years older, and worked for an engineering company out of Ohio. He had gone to Ohio State on an athletic scholarship, he said. When he hurt his knee during a game his sophomore year his athletic scholarship ended. But the ever resourceful lad didn’t miss a financial beat. He had wonderful grades and easily secured some sort of academic scholarship. He had a blast during his time there and was even active in his fraternity.

Although he was working in a satellite office, (in Illinois) he said that in a few months he’d be leaving. He’d be moving to Ohio, where his company was headquartered. The powers that be were aging. They were looking to the young pups to further the company’s future. They thought he had alot of potential. He was being groomed for management.

One night before Craig and this girl headed out on a date, he cleaned out his car. He proudly showed her various mechanical drawings he had done. The company logo and address were prominently displayed. She found it odd that he’d show her these drawings. She’d never questioned his story. Nonetheless, he seemed proud of the drawings so the girl showed enthusiasm and admiration for the designs.

One night, she called him at his home. “He’s at school now,” his mom said. Later on, the girl asked Craig about this response.

“She wasn’t supposed to say anything. Stupid bitch!” was his reply. After going on a tirade about his very sweet mother, he said he was upset because he didn’t want anyone to know that he was attending SIUE to get a Masters in Mathematics on the sly. If his friends knew, he reasoned, they’d make fun of him for being a geek.

The girl had met some of his friends at this point. While they seemed nice, they also seemed like the type that didn’t take too kindly to anyone they thought was an “intellectual.” She let the subject drop.

The time for Craig to move to Ohio had come. He said he wouldn’t have a phone at his place — he’d use his work cellphone to save money. The girl got him a good-bye gift. He was speechless. He thanked her. He put the gift in the car, kissed her goodbye, then drove off. She went on with her days.

He called her now almost daily. A few weeks later when he came back into town, they went out. Something happened that she’s not quite ready to tell the blogosphere about. (Something not even most of her family and friends know.)

She never saw him again after that night. His calls, thankfully, stopped — for the time.

Shortly after the incident, the girl’s friend, Christine, who worked at the college, overheard a student who was being helped. When she heard him say his first and last name, she realized this was the guy her friend had dated.

She looked at his records.  She realized it was all a lie. He’d lied to her friend about literally everything but his first and last name.

The reality was that this boy was a few years younger. He was never a student at any place but SIUE. And even at SIUE he was hardly a sophomore. He wasn’t showing up for his classes and he was flunking out of all but one (he had a D in that class). He didn’t work for an Ohio-based engineering company. He’d never even taken an engineering class. There was no promotion. He’d never moved out of his parents’ house. He’d never left his hometown.

The girl felt like the ground beneath her had been yanked away. Then she found out Craig’s friends were in on the joke. Even a coworker of the girl knew about the farce. This coworker gleefully watched the deception unfold. This coworker laughed while telling others the story. When she found out other coworkers knew about the deception, she was absolutely horrified.

Months later, the girl was contacted again by Craig. She asked him if he’d made it to any of his alma mater’s football games. “Yes!” He said. He talked about the parties he’d been to on Ohio State’s campus. She asked him a pointed question about the campus. (Because by this point, she had done some research.) She asked a few more questions. His awkward answers indicated that he’d probably never seen the campus.

“Craig. I know you’ve been lying to me,” she said, her voice even and flat. “I know all about what’s going on.”

She proceeded to tell him what she knew. He became irate. He called her horrible names. He told her he was coming to her apartment. “You’re going to hurt you bitch,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck you up.”

She hung up shaking. By now she was in the beginnings of a relationship with someone else. Although she didn’t want to bother him, she didn’t know of too many people in the city that she could call. So she called him, confided and asked if she could come over for awhile. She spent the night. Years later she married this man.

It has been more than 10 years since this incident. The girl is a mother. Little by little, she’s learned to trust people again. She knows her trust issues have hurt her husband far more than anyone else. She no longer questions how someone could have completely snowed her. She no longer walks into a room painfully assuming she’s a big joke to everyone there. She’s stopped questioning the “why”.  The sense of confidence and competence she lost when this happened has slowly been restored. And for that she is grateful.

We had a bit of a scare on Monday.

After Seth and a few of the other neighborhood kids got off of the bus, I got to talking with another lady about her upcoming vacation. During this time, we noticed a strange young man ambling from house to house. He kept walking past various houses in a seriously creepy way. He even walked into a person’s open garages. He walked up to some kids playing a pick up game of basketball. Within a few minutes, the group had scattered, with each boy going into their respective homes.

We kept watching this young man. And he knew it. At one point, he walked past us and tried to talk. His words were so slurred we could barely understand him. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. He didn’t understand the questions we asked him. His pants were baggy. He kept his hands in his pockets and seemed to be playing with some sort of item inside them. (No, not pocket pool.) He walked away and went into the garage of another person’s home. At one point he came out. He asked us if he could use the bathroom at one of our houses. We looked at each other uneasily. We didn’t say a word. He walked about 30 feet away.

We talked a bit longer, keeping our eyes on this young man. But the other lady was eager to get back into her house because she knew her garage was open. The kids were reluctant to leave. Upon hearing us say we were going back into our homes, this man decided to follow me to mine. With a whining protesting child slowing us down, the young guy caught up with Seth and I within a few seconds. He was one step behind us within 10 feet of our porch. I ignored him. He followed us right to the front door. I let Seth and the dog inside. There was NO WAY I would let this guy in. I had no idea who he was and what substance he was on. I had no idea if he was violent or if he could turn violent in a flash. I had no idea if what he was carrying in those baggy pockets was could be used as a weapon.

“Can I help you?” I asked timidly but politely.

“Come on, let me in. I just want to see your bathroom,” he slurred.

I said, “No. I don’t think so. I don’t know you.”

“You know me,” he said. He leaned in, his face now closer to mine. The grin he threw me caused the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “You just don’t THINK you know. But you know me.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I don’t.” I turned around, opened the door a sliver, got in, shut it behind me very fast and locked the door. Then I ran to the back door. Then I double checked the car doors to ensure they were locked. This whole time, he stood there, looking through the large glass windows of our door. (To see the door click here. But this may load slowly.)

I called the police. At one point during the discussion, I saw this guy in the neighbor’s van, rifling around. He must have gotten bored because he soon went across the street and starting rifling through that neighbor’s car doors. That neighbor caught him in the act.

At this point, I called another neighbor — a freshman girl I knew to be home alone. I told her to lock her doors — this strange guy was on something and had been in her garage. She explained that this man was her brother’s friend. He had gotten kicked out of his house so her mom let him stay there a night. She went next door and led this guy back to her house. I told her I had called the police.

A police officer arrived. He handcuffed the guy and brought him around to several of us neighbors to identify.

Found out later from the neighbor that opened her house to him – she didn’t know the guy. He was a friend to one of her kids, so she let him stay. This neighbor is a very compassionate woman. It sucks that her generosity blew up in her face.

That night I couldn’t sleep. This guy knows it was me who called the police. And my husband was several states away on business. Was this guy already out of the police station? Was he pissed off? Would he come back that night to my neighborhood to get some revenge? Are my tires going to be slashed at some point? Is my little boy or dog going to get hurt because he thinks I’m a bitch who gave him a big ole legal hassle?

Nonetheless, something good came of it. When I close a door that leads outside (even the door to the garage), no matter what time of day, I immediately lock it. Its become this habbit that I don’t even realize I’m doing at the time. I lock my car as soon as I step out of it. Part of my evening ritual is locking the doors, rechecking, then re-locking each door no less than five times a night. I do it with the vehicles too. (Yeah, this could be mildly OCD-ish.) All of this door locking drives my husband crazy. And I know he rolls his eyes because I won’t let Seth go down to the cul-de-sac, a mere four houses away, by himself.

But on one sunny, unassuming day, some stranger did come into our happy little ‘hood and approached children. This stranger went into people’s garages and cars and turned life upside down for a number of people. Now I no longer have to apologize for locking the doors to the house or vehicles. And I don’t have to explain why this mama’s not ready to give her little boy the freedom he’s opining for. At least, not for a while.

“If we took away women’s right to vote, we’d never have to worry about another Democrat president. It’s kind of a pipe dream, it’s a personal fantasy of mine, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. And it is a good way of making the point that women are voting so stupidly, at least single women.”

“It also makes the point, it is kind of embarrassing, the Democratic Party ought to be hanging its head in shame, that it has so much difficulty getting men to vote for it. I mean, you do see it’s the party of women and ‘We’ll pay for health care and tuition and day care — and here, what else can we give you, soccer moms?’” — Ann Coulter.

Ann Coulter loves to share — especially when it comes to sharing her thoughts with the media (and when she’s got a new book to pimp). After mulling over her words for a few days, I think I know WHY Ann is the way she is. A few years ago, Ann went to the hospital to have a really big, disgusting mole removed from her head. But the surgeon misread the chart and took her brain out instead.  That’s just my silly little opinion. I could be wrong.

Disclaimer: I don’t really claim to be devoted to one party or another. But if Ann truly wants to “help” make our country a better place, she needs to stop bashing people who don’t think like her and (at least try to) understand their perspectives and backgrounds. She needs to put her judgements aside and work toward creating actual solutions to problems — solutions that mix compassion with common sense.