My Pink Cadillac

 Have you heard the news? Doomsday is coming...again. Gas prices are soaring...again. Donald Trump is bombing shit...again. 

It's always something with these people. They're worried about the eCoNoMy, as if the thing hasn't been in absolute shambles since way back in the Reagan days 40 fucking years ago. But Me? I grew up in desperate poverty. Sleeping on the trailer floor huddled up with my brothers and sisters in front of an old ceramic heater, the kind with the weird bricks. No bathroom, instead we did our business in an old coffee tin...as the eldest, it was my job to empty it. Foraging for food off of trees and bushes because we didn't have any at home. So on and so on.

As a result, I've always been a bit of a hoarder. I have stacks upon stacks of dry beans, rice, powdered milk and the like, just in case. It's not as deep as it sounds, I'm just not keen on experiencing real hunger pangs ever again. 

My bonus kid works in a bicycle shop. 2 christmases ago, he managed to score this bubblegum pink electra bike (not electric, it's just the brand name) for FREE, because some rich couple had broken up, the wife or girlfriend left it behind during their separation, and the hubby/boyfriend just wanted to be rid of it. Sooooo, it's mine. It's miiiiine, and I am overjoyed.

I want a rear cargo rack, and one of those cute baskets that hang over either side (pannier? is that what it's called?) but for now, I have a not-too-shabby basket in the front.

I've been wanting to lower my carbon footprint anyway, eliminate plastic and all that muck. I've started using bar shampoo, bar soaps, and there's this fantastic little sub on Reddit called r/VisibleMending that I've been stalking for a while for inspiration.

When oil eventually hits 100 bajillion dollars a barrel and no one can afford to drive or buy oranges that were shipped from Brazil, I'll be living high on the hog with my sturdy supply of beans and bike and non-liquid soaps and patchwork clothing. 

I highly suggest you start kissing my ass, now. 😁

Rainy Days and Rainbows

The Rainy Day Part

I hate feel-good stories. You know, the ones that are like "This homeless kid worked 7 jobs and didn't sleep for 5 years to put himself through college, and now he's the proud owner of his very own Volvo!" or "This woman lost her arms, legs, eyes, teeth, tongue, skin, intestines and brain in a diving accident, but now she's the president of her very own coloring book company!"

 For me, it's the implication that with enough hard work, anyone can pull him/herself out of the gutter. If you're not making it, it's because you're a lazy, good for nothing sack of shit. You're not trying hard enough, unlike these people who had it so much worse than you'll ever know.

Did you know that I'm a former child bride? Not in the 3rd world 8 year old sold off by her family to a 63 year old pedo way, but in the this is America and we're still doing this shit way. I was married before I could even legally drive. I won't get into all the details of that nightmare right now, except to say he was exactly the type of man you'd expect to marry a 14/15 year old, and I ran away the day before my 18th birthday.

15 year old me and my rapist husband

Now, here's a few things no one will tell you about being a child bride in a first world country. You are 100% on your own. You miiiiiiight get foodstamps and/or medicaid for your baby, if you're lucky, but you'll have to jump through hoops to get it. And being a literal child, with no bills, no credit, no job and no money to your name means you're not getting your GED until your mid 20s, nor a license until you're almost 30. You never had a college fund so don't even worry about getting a higher education.
Child support? What's that?
Childcare? Where? 
 People will give you all sorts of useless advice, like Get family to babysit so you can work! Ask your friends to give you a ride! What? Me? No, I can't babysit or dop you off, I have other things to do. But somebody else definitely will! You're just not begging hard enough.

I am in my 40s now, and 25 years removed from that point of my life, but I still live with the repercussions of that time and very little to show for it. 

The Rainbows Part

I have very little to show for it, but I like the very little I do have now. My children are all former middle and high school band nerds, something I desperately wanted for myself but never got....until now. My eldest and her husband gave me a lefty guitar for christmas and I've been youtubing and practicing every day. My gay ass kid and his gay ass boyfriend gave me a very expensive bicycle a couple of christmases back. They got it for fucking FREE. It's an Electra somethingsomethingidkwhat, and it's mine. I thrifted some sweet, sweet strawberry bedding for $10. 6 year old me squealed with delight when I found it. 

Like, yeah, okay. I don't have a rags-to-riches story to make society feel better about itself. But I did find a four leaf clover today. I taped it into my diary so I can keep it forever. 

And I do feel lucky. I could have easily turned to drugs, alcohol, prostitution. I could have abandoned these brats of mine and focused on myself. I think they'll always be a little ashamed of me or wish I'd been more than I was, but I'm okay with that.

In addition to the clover, I also managed to blow all the fluff off a dandelion poof in one breath. I made a wish. I can't tell you what it was yet but you'll be the first to know when it comes true. 

And I have so much more to show you. everything I've been up to lately. So many pictures. So many little things to love and be grateful for.

But this is getting long enough and probably comes off a lot more sad and bleak than I actually intended, so I'll save it for the next post.

Here's a sneak peek. Toodles.