Squall Line Vol. 7 – Who Needs Reality TV When There’s Reality?

Hurt. Indignation. Humor. Sagacity.
It took me 5 days to process this incident and gain some perspective on it. (FYI, sagacity can be defined as discernment.) This is a true story but the names have been changed to protect the kooky innocent. For this story, I’m going to give this neighbor the nickname of Mercurial Mable. You’ll understand why in a minute.

A sheriff’s officer showed up at my house the other day. He explained that my neighbor had called about the fact that her missing dog was last seen at my house and wanted to know what I knew about that. Her black lab puppy, named Obama since they got him on election day, loves to visit our 2 labrador retrievers. I told the deputy I was aware the dog was missing and had been looking for him myself. In fact, I had called my neighbor and spoken to Mr. Mable to offer to make signs or help in the search effort.

After the officer left, I wondered if I could have misinterpreted that conversation, but it sounded as if Mable had called the sheriff’s office to accuse me of harming or stealing her dog. Surely that couldn’t be; this is someone I have friendly talks with several times a week! I figured I would simply call her and be sure there wasn’t a problem. Bad idea.

When she answered the phone and I expressed my concern for Obama, she WENT OFF like a fireworks display. (Except this one was all smoke and noise - nothin' pretty about it.) I listened in stunned silence to her anger and venom. Yes, she’d called “The Law” on me because her dog had been last seen at my house. How could I hurt her and her husband like this by harming their dog? And on and on she went. When I would try to say something she would yell “I’M NOT FINISHED TALKING!” And when she had exhausted her rant, she hung up on me.

I couldn’t believe it! I was upset. I couldn’t find any humor in the episode.

Mable’s husband called that night and spoke to my husband to report the happy news that Obama had been found. He had been hanging out at someone’s home 2 miles through the woods on another road. My husband felt that the call was meant as an apology. And we are really happy Obama is back where he belongs. He’s very appealing but he can really stir up trouble. (Double meaning intended.)

Who needs to watch reality TV? I mean really? Give me happy endings and a meaningful script, but I can tune into my own neighbors for strife and drama.

By the next day, I started seeing some humor as my husband teased me by calling me a dog-snatcher.

Very quickly I made the conscious decision to forgive Mable. It’s a good thing I learned years ago that forgiveness is an act of the will – my emotions don’t always line up right away. It helps when I rationalize her behavior by wondering if she’s on some medication that makes her crazy, or maybe she was furious with someone else and I unwittingly wandered into the line of fire. Regardless of the reason, common sense tells me that if you know there’s a wasp nest in a tree, don’t mess with that tree or you’re going to get stung.

And you know that thought (in my 25 random things post) I had to run for public office? Forget it. My skin is not thick enough to be chewed up and spit back out.

If you have a squall, feel free to link up to the Squall Line. Please link the exact post below. It doesn't have to be a post from today!

Squall Line 6 - Song of the South, Sweet Potato Pie & Shut My Mouth

This squall is dedicated to those of you from the South. I'll tell you straight up, I stole the idea for this post from the Seven Chicks.

Have you ever heard someone say, “Bless your heart”? Perhaps this was spoken by a well-meaning old lady with clucking tones and good intentions. I heard a comedian say this figure of speech has evolved into something that’s said when you’re struck speechless. Translated, it means, “You’re so stupid”. That’s delivered with a smile, by the way.

When you don’t know how to respond to a judgemental, insensitive or just plain annoying remark, in the South, we say “Bless your heart!”

Case in point: I was in a line with my mother (who is 30 years older than I am) and a man of indeterminate age (in other words- old) said, “You two look so much alike you must be sisters!” The best response I could come up with was “Well, bless your heart!” In other words, “Do you need glasses or do you want a sock in your mouth?”

I am inviting you to share your own version of a “Bless your heart” response.
I borrowed the examples below from the comments section of the Seven Chicks post on this subject last week.

“You think that just because I stay home with my kids that my husband must be rolling in the dough? Would you like to see our pay stubs?” Bless your heart!

“You think that just because I have a demanding career that I don't have my priorities right? Bless your heart!

This is for the ones at my office who are upset because you are asked to work all 8 hours at your job. Bless your hearts!

“I don't have children and you want to know why I have failed to produce at the ripe old age of 31." Well, it is really none of your business. Bless your heart!

"I don't know if I could adopt, because I’m not sure I could love it like my own."
Well let me assure you I love mine and he is my own and babies are not called IT. Bless your heart!!

“What do you think Jesus thinks of your tattoo?” WELL BLESS YOUR STINKIN HEART.

Okay, it’s your turn. Leave a bless your heart comment. You’ll feel better. ; )

And if you have a squall you want to link here for others to read, Mr Linky awaits. Please be sure to put the direct link of the post.

Squall Line - Volume 4 - I SAID Don't Mess with My Peep!

I posted in November and said “Don’t Mess With my Peep” and I meant it. Here’s the rest of the story... and thanks in advance for listening… I know this is a long post.

Our youngest daughter moved to a college apartment complex in August with great excitement and anticipation of new friends, fun pool parties and a great college experience.

She tried not to alarm us with too many details, but within two weeks, she had called the police one night when she was alone in her apartment and there was a major disturbance going on in the apartment above. There was fighting, profanity and offensive music playing so loudly she was truly frightened. When the police arrived, the offending neighbors wouldn’t answer the door and the police told her that was their 8th call to this particular apartment this year. Oh great.

Suffice it to say that this was only the beginning of what turned into a very scary scenario. It wasn’t just one problem – they were numerous and she was literally surrounded by low-lifes.

Naturally, we contacted the apartment management for help. Alas, we were always told “there is not a manager on the premises.” We knew the management had changed in July, right before Cupcake moved in, and wondered if there was literally no manager.

The problems actually escalated. My husband contacted the police in Tallahassee about our concerns over our daughter’s safety and we were told that University Heights apartment complex had at least one police call a day and had become such a problem there was a particular officer handling it. We were advised to file formal complaints with the apartment management.

After a particularly alarming night in November when our daughter and her roommates actually barricaded the door with furniture in fear as a near-riot took place in the parking lot, we decided to take matters into our hands and get her out of there.

We had signed a year long lease, so we consulted an attorney and were advised of the Florida statute that ensures the safety of residents. We sent a certified letter to the complex and asked for a response within 10 days or the lease would be breached and we would be moving our daughter out. We didn’t get a response and on Dec. 30th, we moved our daughter out of that situation.

I find it very interesting that on moving day, after dropping the key to the office with yet another letter explaining why she was moving, Cupcake got about 6 calls and 3 terse voice mails from the manager, who actually has a name, who said there would be consequences as she could not break the lease. When my husband tried to call her back to discuss this – guess what? She wouldn’t take his calls.

I am hoping that someone from University Height Apartments in Tallahassee monitors what is being said on the internet about them and contacts me. (beverlydru at gmail.com) I can assure you that if they take this to court, our documentation and story will not be good for them. I’m putting all that in God’s hands.

I am happy to report that God cares about the details of our lives. At Thanksgiving when Cupcake was home, we asked her where her ideal place would be to live. We believe in specific prayers! So she made a list. As of the end of school on Dec. 12th, we had no idea where she would be living. In the next week, God opened a door. Oh yes, He did! She is living exactly where her heart desired. She is safe. She knows we are her advocates.

When we know Jesus, you and I also always have an advocate. If God is for us, who can be against us? It’s not the final chapter that we doubt. We begin in faith and know the end of the story. It’s what transpires in the middle that often throws us off balance.

If there’s something on your mind that you’ve blogged about and you want to link up to the Squall Line, please enter your name and the exact link to the post below.

Squall Line Vol. 3 - Safety Check Point

I experienced my first “Safety Check Point” on Friday night, courtesy of the Florida Highway Patrol.

I was on my way home from Christmas shopping and saw the flashing sign warning me to prepare to stop on the 4-lane highway. I had no idea what to expect, so I dug out my driver’s license, insurance card and registration, which were all quite handy from my recent blue light experience. I had plenty of time to locate all of that, as it took me about 25 minutes to travel about 2 miles. I wasn’t stopped by officers, (thankfully I had gotten my expired decal renewed a week ago) but it was a bit disconcerting to drive through at least 50 officers who were staring at me and my vehicle. I noticed there was a large “staging area” set up with stadium lights where they were directing some drivers to pull in who failed the scrutiny that we all got. I read in the paper the next day that the main focus of this particular checkpoint was sobriety.

I am all in favor of safety and sobriety. But the way this operation was set up really made me uncomfortable. It made me think of Big Brother. Max Bellamy writes in an ezine article: “Sobriety checkpoints hover on a fragile precipice between legitimate public safety and encroachment upon a citizen's Fourth Amendment protection against unreasonable search and seizure.”

I find it interesting that though I had nothing to hide, I was very nervous. I just wanted to get home, but the only way was to endure the checkpoint. Maybe this was just too reminiscent of my visit to Czechlosovokia in the 1970’s when border guards entered our tour bus armed with machine guns. We were just high school kids on a music tour but we were totally intimidated. I actually remember feeling pretty terrified.

I am thankful for law enforcement that protects us from the many lunatics who roam our roads.

However, I question whether the best way to arrest people who are driving while intoxicated is to detain everyone on the road. I recall that the homeland security procedures created unease about the invasion of personal privacy. Is it okay to monitor everyone for the sake of identifying the few who are violating the law?

I think we have to be mindful that there is such a thing as too much government power. The whole checkpoint experience disturbed me on a lot of levels. Maybe its just another warning sign of the times.

In the meantime, if you’ve posted about something that’s on your mind and want to link up to the Squall Line, please do so below.

Squall Line Vol. 2

I know I don’t often write about economics and such, but I have an opinion on the mess we’re in and how to get out of it.

My mama always said, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Okay, I’ll blog it. Sugar-coating or silence is not going to get us anywhere.

Wasn’t America founded on the free enterprise system? Is the entrepreneurial spirit alive and well or are we on a fast slide into socialism?

I am not an economist or a politician, but I’m a business owner with a good measure of common sense. I know that regardless of who’s in office or in control of Congress, I am ultimately responsible for my health care, my income and my well-being. I do NOT want the government managing those things for me.

Have the people of America forgotten that all government spending is rooted in taxation? It’s not like the government runs a profitable business to fund their ideas!! (In fact, quite the opposite!)

I received the following email and couldn’t say it better, though I don’t know who wrote it:

Does anybody out there have any memory of the reason given for the establishment of the Department of Energy during the Carter Administration?
Anybody? Anything? No?
Didn't think so.
Bottom line . . we've spent several hundred billion dollars in support of an agency the reason for which not one person who reads this can remember.
Ready?
It was very simple, and at the time everybody thought it very appropriate.
The Department of Energy was instituted 8-04-1977 to lessen our dependence on foreign oil. And now it’s 2008, 31 years later and the budget for this necessary department is at $24.2 billion a year. They have 16,000 federal employees and approximately 100,000 contract employees and look at what has been accomplished.

This is where you slap your forehead and say “What were we thinking?”Ah yes, good ole bureaucracy. And now we are going to turn the Banking
System over to the government? God Help us.

So what do we do? Stick our heads in the sand? Mullygrub with the best of ‘em?
Or do we fight?

In David Wilkerson’s recent newsletter, titled "A Time to Weep and A Time to Fight", he exhorts us to “get back our fight.”
To quote Hebrews 12:12,13 from The Message:
“So don’t sit around on your hands! No more dragging your feet! Clear the path for long-distance runners so no one will trip and fall, so no one will step in a hole and sprain an ankle. Help each other out. And run for it!”

Get back your fight!

I'm going to fight evil with good. I am going to fight depression with joy. I am going to fight down-sizing with praise. I am going to fight the good fight of faith.

Now it’s your turn. If something’s on your mind and you post in the next day or three about it, link back below using Squall Line’s Mr. Linky. Please be sure to put the direct link to that post.

NOTE: At 6:00 AM CT, Mr Linky is experiencing technical difficulties. Please leave your link in the comment section and I'll hook you up as soon as the issue is fixed. Thanks!

NaBloPoMo Success!

I learned how to say NaBloPoMo in the process of blogging every single day in November. Whew! Some days it was hard and some days I was bubbling with words & ideas. Thanks for sticking with me through it all! Tomorrow (Tuesday) I'm going to do the Squall Line again. So if you have something to say, feel free to link up tomorrow.

(In case you didn't recognize Martin Luther - that's him on the photo - tacking up his thesis.)

Welcome to the Squall Line!

I wish that question was a joke. I believe the correct answer SHOULD be 6 months (max). However, my county road department is now at 20 months and counting on this yet-to-be completed project. (I live at the END of this road and believe me, I'm counting.) We’re talking about a crew that works is on site forty hours every week. I have seen these guys sleeping on the job… alot. Or reading the paper as they lounge in their trucks. The only people I saw break a sweat this summer were the prisoners the county brought out in crews.

Is there an Incompetency Award I can nominate this Road Crew for? How about the Squall Line’s Slug of the Year award - to recognize the spectacular efforts of individuals and organizations promoting the regression of human achievement? Of course this year, there is stiff competition among government agencies as well as corporations that have been inefficient to the point of bankruptcy, causing the government (with all of the extra money we borrowed from the Chinese) to come to the rescue. I digress.

The long and winding road. The one that has made my car an old woman before her time. My once beautiful and efficient vehicle that now squeaks and rattles because it has dirt in every crack and crevice. I’m not just talking about the brakes - my poor car squeals like a wounded animal just rolling down the road. People regularly lose car parts driving on this road riverbed or washboard (conditions determined by variable local rainfall). Granted, we knew the condition of the road when we built a home out here in the boondocks. However, to be offered hope and deliverance where there is none is cruel punishment. To watch this crew has been real torture.

I must say that one of the men on this project who happens to love our dogs asked me to squall about this to the county officials. He commented he is embarrassed and ashamed of this folly. I haven’t squalled that loudly – yet. Of course when I think of who’s paying the bill, I feel motivated to beller. (That’s what my neighbor calls the noise her cows make. Does she mean bellow?)

When the alleged paving project began 14 months before Cupcake graduated from high school, we joked that the project would be complete just in time for her to move off of our lovely road. Oh no, not to be. She’ll be coming home for the holidays to her dear old dirt road.

If you have a nominee for the SLUG award, or a rant of any flavor, here’s your chance. The Squall Line will be posted on the 1st and third Tuesday. Link up to the exact post on your blog and go ahead - have a good squall.

Squall Line - Get Ready, It's Coming!

Have you ever felt like just squalling like a baby? Do you sometimes need to vent? My mama always said, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, just don’t say anything at all.” So don’t say it – blog it!

I am known as Positive Pollyanna. In fact, I’ve been criticized for being too happy. Oh yes, I have. People just don’t believe it’s real. So I think I'm the perfect host for a Squall Line. I've learned that a joy shared is multiplied by 2 and a trouble shared is cut in half. So get out your knife, ‘cause we’re going to slice and dice some stuff that’s bugging you.

Mark your calendars. Starting next Tuesday, Nov. 18th , on the 1st and 3rd Tuesday of every month, I’ll be hosting the squall line. Rant Day. If you need a mental reminder of which Tuesday, just think that the first Tuesday of Nov. was election day. Ahem. So the 1st and 3rd Tuesday it is. I thought weekly was a bit much, but feel free to make your suggestions as I test the waters.

If you want a few examples of what I consider interesting squalls, here ya go:
If The Food Doesn’t Kill You the Parking Lot Will by Antique Mommy
Christmas Lighting Rules by Uncommon Blonde
Daylight Insanity Time by Jennifer at Conversion Diary

I know the posts will be short, long, funny, serious, up and down, but we're all in this big boat called "Life" together and I think sharing can make it better. A lifeboat for the squalls.

Guidelines
Squall Line is a sort of blog carnival. An explanation of how this works is found HERE
I’m not a big rule follower so it’s basic:

· When using Mr. Linky, please use a permalink that sends readers directly to the correct post.
· You can put the Squall Line button on your site with your post but you don’t have to. Please mention the Squall Line in your post with a link back to this site in case others want to read more or join in.
· I reserve the right to delete any links that are not appropriate but I can’t even imagine my bloggy friends being inappropriate. This comment is in the event someone tries to crash the party.
· I will have Mr. Linky available after midnight on the 1st and 3rd Mondays.