The comfort of the chip

What is it that takes you to your safe place? The place were all is right in the world. Where troubles are calmed and you mood is instantly transformed. Mine....in a bag of barbecue potato chips. Chips?? No, not just chips...BBQ chips.

It was the summer before fourth grade. In fact it was the last day of third grade. I did not feel good. Chalk it up to being a kid, last day of school, June weather and running around because summer is here! The teacher did not seem to notice the perfect blood red V on my chest. (a classic sign and symptom). Again, last day of school, everyone is hot and sweaty. I made it home and still not feeling too good. Excited that school is over, but didn't really have much energy to celebrate. That's the last thing I truly remember.

I remember bits and pieces of the month to follow. Seems the bright red "V" was scarlet fever. I know what your thinking, "who gets that anymore?" "Isn't that what caused Mary Ingols  on Little House on the Prairie to go blind?". (yes it was by the way).  The house was under quarantine by the department of health. No one could come in, no one could go out. I remember I was burning up and telling my Mom that before I was born I was an angel in heaven and God let me pick out who my mommy would be and I picked her. But I had to go now....I had to go back to heaven. My next memory is waking up in the hospital.

I guess during that time my Great Grandmother, who was an army nurse, was not going to let some little sign stop her from seeing me. Quarantine be damned, she was coming in so my Mom could get a little rest. She only stayed a few hours from what I was told later. She said she could not "bear to watch that child be put in the ground when she died". Oh....the comforting words of a nurse. Glad I didn't hear it, maybe I did, who can say.  I spent over a month on the communicable disease ward at USC Hospital. My skin blistered and peeled like no other sunburn you have ever seen. My hair fell out and I looked like a chemo patient, not a kid with a fever. Scarlet fever, dilantin poisoning (too high of a dose for someone that never needed the medication) viral hepatitis, kidney and liver failure. Now there is a diagnosis for a eight or nine year old huh?

Liver failure. Damn. There is a life changer. Good thing ignorance is bliss at that age. But, you thinking...WTF does this have to do with potato chips. Refer back to the liver. The one organ that with rest and food can start to rebuild. The one thing I do remember is that doctors visit. The one where he said, "Ma'am. If your child is to ever get better she needs plenty of rest and let her eat. If she can hold down food let her eat. What ever she wants, when ever she wants. " The handsome man in the starched white coat with ice blue eyes looked at me and said, "honey, if you want to eat BBQ potato chips and drink chocolate milk, you just go right a head".

Woo-Hoo!!! Now that is better than saying you can have all the ice cream you want after having your tonsills out. (which by the way, my doctor did not believe that and I got jello). I was discharged home on July 4, 1972 (or 1973..I would need to look). All of our neighbors pitched in and we had a fireworks show that was bigger, better and longer than the one at the Rose Bowl that night. And there I sat with my chips and chocolate milk.

Almost 40 years later. When life starts to suck and something happens, there I sit with my BBQ potato chips and if available, my chocolate milk. Yesterday was a pretty rough day. Lots going on at home and with the our family.  We had a potluck at my work for two of the nurses that were leaving. Without even thinking, I grabbed some potato chips, barbecue of course, and went back to my desk to continue working. There I was typing away, knocking out the cases while without even thinking about it, continued to munch on the chips there beside my keyboard. That's when it dawned on me....barbecue chips, the chicken soup of my soul. The comforter when I am sad or depressed. The bringer of joy and happiness. My entire life it had soothed and comforted me. It was my little salty Valium. The righter of wrongs, my everything.

It was, as they say, my Ah-Ha moment. The light went on. A moment of clarity. Weight issues partially explained right? Nahhh, it was my Homer Simpson moment. The pure and ignorant bliss like he feels with his doughnuts. Arrggghhhh chips.

My little blue pill....

So, I finally found my password to get on here. It has been forever since my last post. Seems odd that my screen name is scrappinganjel since I have not scrapped in forever. In fact have given most of it away and ready to give away even more.

I wouldn't say that I have no time to scrap. I could make the time and lord knows I have more than enough to work with. Seems the problem is...don't care. I haven't cared about much of anything in the past year. Maybe its just the daily grind getting to me. Seems all we do is work. When we aren't working we are sleeping. Never enough money even to rob Peter to pay Paul. I know we are not the only family struggling. Look around you...most are in the same situation we are, some have it worse. But either way life seems to be getting in the way of living.

Hello little blue pill.

Some men would tell you that their little blue pill makes everything all better. Mine...well, it comes with a stigma and some would say a bit of embarrassement. Prozac. Yep, I said it. This old bird had to be medicated. Life came at me pretty hard and fast. Too many deaths in a short period of time. Two major moves in two years. Working, not working, looking for work, supporting two family households. Supporting everyone. Stress. Life. Depression. The list keeps going. Its only a matter of time before something inside of you snaps.

My psychatirst (yep...no therapist for me...went straight to the top) is more of a nut than I am. If Woody Allen and the creepy preacher from Poltergist were able to bear a child...it would be her. Now my major issue with her is this. Isn't it our time Mr Hand? Really....I pay YOU to talk and discuss ME. Its pretty simple. I talk, you write. You question, I answer. You prescribe, I take the pill. Nope, I make her laugh and she talks about her. WTF??? Look just give me my refill and I will go read a self help book and try and figure out what is wrong with me. I do already know, but its emotionally easier to act as if I need to find out why I am the way I am and what horrible thing caused my breakdown. I know the answer to both, I just choose to look the other way and just smile as if life is beautiful.

Oh, and life is beautiful. I am not that far gone to know that. I am not really crazy, just clinically depressed. It was Gods little joke. See, I am not very sympathetic. Yes, I am a nurse and sympathy is a trait you should have being in that line of work. But I have seen the ugly in people and in life. So I am a little jaded. I am of the school of "pick yourself up, brush it off and walk it out". Someone I love had some issues with bouts of depression. My advise was, "stop it. get over it." Wow...what a bitch. You can't. And having never dealt with depression, I figured it was just that easy. Hence Gods little joke. The meds are helping. But, I feel its time to increase the dosage. Type A personality, never content with what I have, always wanting to do more and achieve better. Looking our and doing for everyone around me and not taking care of me. Now fighting depression. Damn....it sucks.

So, welcome to my therapy. Writting. You the gentle reader...if you are out there, will get to walk through this journey with me. I promise you, it will be quite a ride.

Where does that road go? Chapter 1

Who in their right mind ups and moves to a small town, sight unseen because in their mind it looks like "Pepperland" from Sgt Peppers Lonely Heart Club? I guess this person right here does and did.

From the time I can remember my Moms favorite catch phrase was, "I wonder where that road goes?" The memories are still fresh and vivid of being 6 years old and my Mom being sure she could make it from Bell, CA to Downey, CA during the commercial break of a movie on TV to grab some Sees Candy and make it back in time. She was so close too until the police pulled her over for speeding. The officer couldn't stop laughing when she told him why she was speeding in the first place. She did make it home with her candy and just a warning. Being awakened at 3am to drive to San Diego for breakfast or to Ventura for a burger. My grandmother always kept a toothbrush and a change of underwear in her purse just in case the road took a turn while heading to the grocery store. You just never knew where that road may go.

I became deathly ill on the day I graduated from 3rd grade. Viral hepititis, scarlet fever, dilantin poisioning, kidney and liver failure topped it off. I had a fever of over 106 degrees and the doctors told my Mom to start planning my funeral. My Great Grandmother came to see me and left quite soon telling my Mom that she could not be there to help bury me. I spent months in the hospital and missed a year of school, lost all of my hair and never was able to regain my straight A student status. I guess that was a turn in the road that was almost a dead end, but my Mom never left my side. Once I healed we were on the road again.

So many of us refuse to be like our parents when we are younger. It's funny how as you grow older, and a bit wiser, that you realize you have become like them. I guess I too had to find out where that road went, my road.

Chapter 2 You can take the girl outta L.A., but you can't take the L.A. outta the girl

I was not at all happy to hear that I would start 9th grade in Anaheim, CA. The O.C. In fact I was down right pissed. I was one of the lucky ones. I was born and raised in California, L.A. County to be exact. Summers spent with my cousins that lived over off Pico. My Aunt that lived off of Melrose right off the strip and now we are moving?? No, not a happy camper. I had grew up with the same friends since 2nd grade, I would never make any new friends! I guess it was time to find out where the first off ramp of my road was going to take me.

We moved to Anaheim, CA during my 8th grade year. My Mom still worked in "the ol' neighborhood" so I was lucky and was able to finish out that year of school, not to mention hang out the entire summer there instead of at the new place. I think it was Labor Day weekend. I know it was the weekend before I had to start at the new school. We were at my Mom's friends house in Sylmar, CA and I found one, yes one lady finger firecracker. So I did what any bored kid would do and I lit it. Now for those of you that do not know this little fact about the city streets in Sylmar, they are not level. I know this fact now, had I known it then perhaps I would have done things differently or not at all. So, I take said single firecracker (which will only give me one loud POP) and sit it upright and light the fuse. Doing so made it tip over and roll towards me. I turn to run, like it would have caused injury if I had of just stood there right? And when I take a step to run, my left foot decided to stay put. The sound of my left ankle braking was much louder than the little pop that firecracker made. Great, new school in a new city with people I do not know and I have a broken ankle. The doctors said it was too swollen to put a cast on it and that was all I needed to hear. I started my 9th grade year with a broken ankle that I walked on cause I wasn't going to look like a dork on the first day of school. I look back and realize we all looked like dorks on the first day of school.

I started out in college prep classes when I hit high school the following year. Hung out with the "good kids" and studied every night. That lasted all of the first semester. I found the kids that smoked and the drama class was more fun to hang out with than the "good kids". I never got into drugs but could toss 'em back on the weekends. I would spend my weekends on The Strip in Hollywood and going to The Roxy, The Trubador, Gazzari's and The Wiskey. I was chased out of a club by Niki Sixx for screaming the Crue sucked one evening only to meet Randy Rhodes the next and had no idea who he was and why he would not leave me alone. Damn, he liked to talk a lot. So when I went to my school counselor and told him I did not want college prep classes and felt I would be better educated if I was changed to remedial classes and he did it. Well, screw the man!!! He didn't catch this major error in my life so let it ride! Lets see what road this will take me down.

A brand new me!

Before Facebook finished sucking all of the life out of me, I remembered I had blogger. I will be transfering some of my recent chapters that my daughter likes to call my manifestos. Hopefully those that I truly care about and that inspire me to be better and do better will follow my rants and writings on this venue. Much more to follow in the upcoming days, but for now I gotta head back to FB and start hitting delete!

Scrapping Addict

Well, since this consumes my life I guess I should post a little more about my addiction and get some pictures of completed pages on here. I am a scrapaholic. I do so love buying every little thing, bling, embelishments and paper!!Not that I ever use it. I guess I am more of a scrap-horder. LOL

I like to blame the fact that I no longer take the time to scrap is because I had to sell my Scrapbox. Yes, that was an impulse buy at the last expo I went to in California. It broke my heart when I had to part with it, at half of what I paid for it. But I am sure the women that got it as an anniversary gift from her husband is one happy woman.

I now have a small cabinet off the dining room to hold everything that was in there. I did seem to spend more time organizing things when I had it, but after everything is said and done. I like my little closet that I use now.

Since moving from California to Wisconsin I have started making projects and albums for some of my husbands friends from facebook. We don't know anyone out here (almost here a year) So I was so happy when Paper Secrets did this challenge.

I look forward to meeting and connecting with those that share my addiction. I hope that you guys help motivate me to get some pages done and posted on here!!

Happy Scrapping!

There has to be more....right?

There has to be more. There has to be more than just going to work everyday, coming home, going to bed and waking up to do it all over again. I mean I know there is. Life is what you make it. I intend on making it something spectacular!!! I moved out here under the pretense that a friendship would rekindle. Pick up where we left off. I knew time changes everything and everyone, but did not realize to what extent. I feel for myself, I grew up a bit, but still basically the same person I have always been. Edges are not as rough as they were in the past. Some parts have become jaded and tough. I choose my battles better and know which hill is worth dying on for something I truly believe in or about. But other than that I am still just me. Or am I wrong in that assumption?
The friendship is strained at best. One should never have to search for something to say. Nor should you ever have to reply with such caution due to the fact you never know how someone will twist or turn its every meaning. Paranoia and deciept is never good bedfellows nor is it a trait I wish to have in "a friend'. If you say one thing, then turn around and do the opposite, or even worse talk shit and crap behind EVERYONES back, why would you fight to continue a relationship? You wouldn't you would turn and run for the hills baby!! Isn't that the reason I left home in the dust and moved so far away? To get away from those like that?
Well, I found out that it is all around me. One must make a choice in every aspect of their lives. I choose not to become a person like that. I will not become doubtful and untrusting. Thinking that everyone is out to get me and has something up their sleeve. Nor will I shut myself off from life itself by finding any excuse not to go out and live, love and laugh. If I choose to discover more of not only myself but of this big world of ours with not only my husband and family, then I will do it with someone that has respect and integrity. My happiness is worth more than that.
Ok, so this isn't really a blog, its more of a piss, whine, moan session. But sometimes you gotta let the ugly out before you can let the beauty and love consume you.