Never a dull moment

So have not been in the mood lately for blogging.  So many things have been happening around here that just make me sad.  I didn’t want to talk about them.

I have always found an outlet in writing.  Saying what’s on my mind makes me feel better.  It has saved me from years of counseling.  Or maybe I should have gone to counseling and kept my mouth (fingers) shut.

Anyway, there’s a lot, here’s some of it.

I had a new grandson a month ago.  His name is Owen Athanasius.  Also about a month ago, I received a phone call from an investigator for the bishop who was investigating a certain person I know for being inappropriate.  This is an adult who works in the church – you know, a safe environments thing.  I did not start the investigation.  I repeat: I did not say or do one thing to have this person investigated, at any time, in any way.  My name was given to the chancery because of some involvement with some of my kids.  They called me.  They said they had to talk to me, my daughter, that DCF had to talk to me, and that DCF would be bring the state police – it’s routine.

I’m like great, I have nothing else going on.

This investigator was really nice.  Really helpful in a couple of other areas I had going on.  He told me that this investigation was absolutely anonymous, and that anything I said or did would be in strict confidence.  Pretty much instantaneously, my pastor called me and asked what was up in regards to this.

I am sure it wasn’t the investigator.  I have an idea of what happened but that’s for another post.  I told my pastor what I knew, and that it wasn’t me, and that I was only cooperating.  He said, sure, okay, everything’s fine.

Fast forward two weeks to my grandson’s Baptism.  I walked into the church with my three youngest kids and stood in the vestibule for a minute.  I was absolutely quite shocked at who I saw there, but that is also for another post.  I told you there was a lot going on.  Anyway, the pastor came up to me and told me at my grandson’s baptism and in front of my three youngest children that my rent was doubling, as of now (remember, he is also my landlord), and that he was going to sell the house to help support his school and that I had to look for another place.

I turned around and left.  Didn’t know what else to do.  Couldn’t think.  Kids cried all the way home because they had to move and would have to leave their friends.

I realize that this man was the one who provided a place for me to stay when my house was being foreclosed four years ago, but really?  Don’t even talk to me about anything?  Evict me in front of my kids on the day of my grandson’s baptism?

There’s more going on, to be sure, but what gets me is that why was I brought to live here?  To make 10 more members for the congregation?  Because I had a son in seminary?  So as a single woman I could be controlled?  Seriously, don’t I have 6 minors living here?  What makes it okay to throw me out in the street?  I pay rent here.  Always have, never missed a payment.  It’s not like the house was given to me.

Needless to say, I am not going to that church.  I am so sad.  It never fails to amaze me how I get in so much trouble by minding my own business.

Putting things in perspective

About 2 months ago, one of my sons was housesitting for my BFF.  I was driving back and forth down the highway 45 minutes each way about 8 times, because he was also taking a summer class and sadly, BFF doesn’t live too close.  On the first trip I got pulled over.  I was in a cluster of cars, in my minivan, traveling up a hill, in the dark and going about 70ish.  Low 70’s.  That’s what my speedometer said.  The cop, on the other hand, announced I was doing 83.  He also had no interest in anything I had to say about it.  The ticket was $300.

I pleaded not guilty and sent it in.  I have been driving since my 16th birthday – 32 years – and even well before that with my mother in the car, and have been pulled over three times, none recently.  Never once have I had an accident.

Once, I was required to send half of my fine to a charity of my choice, as a way of a ticket not showing on my insurance – but that was several years ago, and that option was not offered this time.  I got a court date.

So last week, I went to traffic court, an hour away.  Strangely, it was not in the county I live in, or the county I got pulled over in, but the horrid, awful county that I was divorced in.  The same bailiffs from family court were there.  And it was packed.

There were five prosecutors calling people.  I was sitting towards the front and could hear everyone getting shot down and told to pay on their way out from the two meanest looking ones.  I was called after an hour by a different one.  The first thing she said to me was, “how fast do you think you were going?”  I told her and she proceeded to lecture me on how minivans have tires not appropriate for their axels and if I don’t replace my tires every six months, it can alter the speedometer about 10 mph.  She said she didn’t think I knew I was going that fast, that all of the cars around me were speeding, too, and that from now on I should try to go 10 mph under.  She also said that I still have to be responsible and the best she could do was cut the fine in half.  She asked if I needed time to pay.

I said I needed as much time as humanly possible, because I make $250 a week, have eight kids at home, am a full-time student trying to better my life – because the child support enforcement office, attached to this building, hasn’t gotten me child support in 7 years.

She looked at me.  Then she said the she hasn’t gotten child support in 10.  She told me she knows how hard it is.  She told me to go, I was clear.

The point of this story – if a prosecutor working for the same system, in the same county, in the same town, in the same building, can’t get child support, then I obviously don’t have a prayer.


It’s been a while.  Momma always said, “If you don’t have anything good to say…”

School started a couple weeks ago.  It’s a little overwhelming, to put it mildly.  There are 5000 pounds of books, 58 different computer applications to know and use, a bunch of clinical skills to get down, long, long days of power point lectures, and today I am going to the Senior Center to learn process recording.

I have to go to traffic court, an hour away next week, for a $300 speeding ticket I’m fighting.

I got a letter from the state saying that tbj was served “abode” to appear in court on October 7th, and it’s in my best interest to be there.  Apparently he’s not dead.  Although, let me refresh your memory: “abode” means a letter was mailed to him and not returned saying he had a court date for not paying child support.  That could really mean anything.  And nothing.  What it means, and actually says in small print on the bottom of the letter, is that if he doesn’t show – and really, does he ever?! – then nothing whatsoever will happen to him.  $98,000 on record and not even warranting a sheriff.  Or a threat of jail.  Nothing.  As usual.

The state cut me $300 in food money.  Back to school means the older kids don’t eat.  That also means that I have $29/day to feed the people I am allowed to feed – $4.14 a person – or $3.22 a day each in reality.  I never made it to the last week before the cut.  No idea what we’re going to do.

I did find out one good thing – I don’t have a convalidated marriage.  An annulment is a simple formality.

Reason 958

To have a man in my life.


Can’t do it alone any longer.

I have two more long, hard years of school before gainful employment.  I have $300 in the bank.  I have been written off the work schedule because they don’t like my school schedule.  I make about $30 a week working in the lab.  Gas money to get there.  I have expired my cash assistance. And child support?  Yeah, we all know that story.  I’m claiming him dead.  Might as well be.  But it takes seven years for benefits.  Then I will only have two minors.

In the meantime, I am eligible for a loan.  It’s $4500 a semester.  And you have to go to a class at my school and take a test, wait for two emails and submit a zillion papers.  So, we’re looking at a minimum of October. I can’t not go to school after everything I went through to get in.  If I don’t go, I will ALWAYS be struggling.  Until we all die. But who’s going to hire me when my only availability is Friday and Saturday.  And sometimes we have class on Friday – if Monday is a holiday.  Starting August 22 and continuing with August 29.  So where can I work on a Saturday that will pay the rent and utilities?

Just when I think things will be fine.  They aren’t again.  It’s been over seven years and I am so, so tired.  So tired. So what do I do?  Another campaign?  Beg?  I’m quite sure people are sick of helping me.  But what do I do for two more years to help myself?