Whining is an under appreciated art form. Sure the sound of someone else's whining can have the same affect as nails on a chalk board or a strobe light when you're really really wasted… or so I've been told….. can have.

But that's other peoples whining. Most don't ever have a legitimate reason to whine. They go on and on and on about some trivial event in their lives until your eyes glaze over and you develop little bits of spittle in the corner of your mouth. Sometimes they can read this as disinterest and go away.

But face it, whining is here to stay. Someone is always going to find reasons to whine. Being that is the case, I've come up with an outline of each whining category. Find yours and perfect it. That way we can at least get some entertainment value out of it.

I found most people can fit into these category of Whiners. The following is guide to better whining.

Lucrative Whining ~

Some of the best whiners have turned the act into an art form. You just have to define and then embellish. Look at the comedians. Their skits are about things that piss them off. Their whole act is one big long continuous whine. We can call this "Lucrative" whining. They can make lots of money whining. This is a good thing.

Grouchy Whining ~

This is just grouchy people who open their mouths too many times allowing words to escape. These people could just have won the lottery and they would complain they have to go to the capital to pick up their loot. These people should just get a parrot and shut the F* Up and stop talking to me.

Woe is Me Whining ~

This is the most active Whining Group. These people like to shoot themselves in the foot then run around yelling "Fire", so people will feel bad for them. This type of whining is a double active. First, it gives the whiner something to talk about, anything to introduce 'Drama' into their lives. This is partly because they've walled themselves in so closely they 'have' nothing else to talk about. Or anything that fills the need. Second, it allows others who do not want to face or fix the object of their own whining, the opportunity to continually run around trying to fix others' whiney-assed problems, therefore keeping them so busy they don't have to pay attention to their own whiney-assed problems. The Whining that keeps the Whining rolling! OR The Whining that keeps on Whining.

Whining Warriors ~

These are the people who will never just let you whine. "You think you have it bad? I can top that!" To me, this is the most irritating whiner. For Christ's sake, just listen to me. I didn't ask for a pee'ing contest, or for you to fix it all. I just asked you to listen. Never mind! Get the F* outta my face now! (err, sorry ... running dialog ... fell right into it without thinking. )

Legitimate Whining ~

These people whine because they have legit whining to do. Mostly it *IS* about our work places, (which is acceptable.) In today's market, very few people are in the position to *job hop*. For one, you never build up seniority (translation - you aren't there long enough to kiss up to the powers that be to even allow you to be placed on the "superior, er, seniority list" ... which I think is a lot like "Santa's List" - it's subjective).

Secondly, it looks bad on your resume, like you can't settle down and be loyal and responsible, or something.

Thirdly, it takes to long to box and un-box your toys, games, and pictures entering / exiting your new office/cubicle type room. Then there is the paper stacking and un-stacking. Of course, don't forget, customizing you desktop. Very important.

Fourthly, ( I know fourthly isn't the correct use of 'ly' here, but I was on a roll) , Corporate America KNOWS they have us by the checkbook now. ( I was going to say balls, but I must be defective, I don't gots none... I checked).

Or maybe you have good, (hell doesn't even have to be "good" anymore) health benefits. The job market is such, there are 300 people at any given time applying for posted openings. This surely overwhelms the person reading the resumes. We know this because we are told which "buzz words" to use. So computers can kick them out, then eat the rest. Think about that? So *computers can kick them out*... And they wonder why we're pissed? A machine is in charge of our financial well being? I feel another whole different whining frenzy coming on!

Numbers are all the rage in management these days. You can control numbers, ( we all know you can get any report to spit out the numbers you want... it's in how the question is asked ...), whereas you can't control the masses. Especially when you look to numbers to mean more to you that your employees. What a windfall for them! They never have to think, never have to make sense again! As long as the "numbers" are right, they are RIGHT and we are WRONG and they get to sing the "I'm Right Song"! And we are screwed.

Mercenary Whiner ~

That leads me to the forth category of Whiners. The Mercenary Whiner. We can take a little from the other categories and run with it. We are indiscriminate, whatever suits our purpose, promotes our agenda, or our mood. We are accomplished Whiney Chameleons.

Pick out your poison, and practise practise practise.

He had a hiker's, stuffed to the seams, backpack next to him, the kind with the rolled up sleeping bag on top. His clothes where neat and clean, but you could tell they were worn, probably bought used at an Army surplus store, or even given free from a night shelter in some strange city.

There was an old dog sitting at his feet.  The dog in it's self was unusual looking. He was a grey and black spotted mix 'farm dog' with differing layered tuffs of hair. Some were short and kinky like a poodles, some was straight. He was sitting quietly on a leash and had a faded red bandana decorating his neck. His eyes did not leave his companion's face.

This is not a site you see outside a Starbucks in Richardson Texas. He looked very out of place amongst the business suits, pastel sundresses, crisp tennis outfits and privileged "teen'angsters" wearing designer grunge.

His hair was thick and wavy, but clean. He had a beard growth on his face, but it was neatly trimmed and clean. Everything about him looked well kept, but you could see he was a "traveler". He was sitting quietly eating a sandwich on a white china plate and drinking his beverage from a white china cup and saucer. He didn't look either dainty nor uncomfortable using china, which judging by his dress, he should have. (NOTE to self: I must watch preconceived stereotyping of people, I could lose out)

He ate half of the sandwich, white bread, a meat, lettuce and tomato, and then broke the other half into pieces for his companion waiting patiently at his feet. Then he pulled a bottle of water and old plastic bowl from his pack and poured the water into the bowl and waited until his companion had finished his half of his meal, and placed the bowl down for him to drink. After the dog had finished, he picked the bowl up and poured the remaining water back into the bottle which he then placed back in his pack. He carefully wiped his mouth and hands with his napkin, folding it neatly and placed it on his plate. He stood up from the chair and picked up the white china coffee cup and saucer and the white china plate with the white cloth napkin folded neatly on it and turned to take it back into Starbucks. His companion stood too but laid back down when his master gave him a hands down signal.

I watched him place the china on the counter and thank the person who picked it up with a smile and a nod. He came back out and sat down again and petted and talked to the old dog. You could see the genuine fondness they had for each other. He started to gather his things together and I noticed he was picking up a walking cane. The reason this caught my eye, is it was handmade out of a Chinaberry tree root like my Great Aunt makes, which are crooked and yellow, and for eons the favorite walking sticks of the Indians from SE Oklahoma.  It was all worn and smooth on the handle like it had been used for a thousand miles. The wood gleamed from top to bottom.

By this time I had gotten out of my car and was about to walk past him when I decided to ask him where he had gotten his cane. He said he found it in the trash at a truckstop somewhere in the panhandle. I explained to him why it had caught my eye. He agreed that it was beautiful. He said it felt good in his hand and he had grown to appreciate the craftsmanship that went into making it so it felt just right as you walked along. Some canes feel more of a bother than they are worth, but this cane had become at one with his hand and it felt very natural.

He must have seen the interest in my eyes as he talked of his travels. He asked me if I wanted to hold it. I did. It was well cared for. It felt warm and alive. The wood was so smooth and I could almost hear it's song as I held it in my hand. It felt like sunshine and clean breezes. I could also hear the lone coyote cries as it laid with the man and his dog on velvety starry nights as they dreamed next to a campfire. It looked like it had indeed gone thousands of miles. I handed it back to the man and our eyes met and for a moment, I could see he understood my appreciation for a finely weathered piece of art.

I stepped back and wished him safe journey as he and his companion walked past me with bundles in tow. He tipped the ball cap he had donned and was on his way.

I wondered what his story was. He was well spoken and educated. He was well mannered. Yet here he was living as a "traveler". Was it by choice? Or had some event in his life chosen this lifestyle for him? He could be a soldier back from war where the atrocities he had seen had killed something inside him he had to find again. Or maybe he liked the bohemian lifestyle. Some people just are not meant for any form of conformity. It stifles the flame in their soul and they become sick inside when held in one place for to long.

Who knows what his story was? It is interesting to think about though. It is also interesting to think that out of the 15 minutes or so I sat there watching him, not one person even acknowledged his existence. Usually people smile, even if it's the fake smile, as they pass each other. He was sitting at a table where you had to go around him, to get inside the restaurant, yet no one said anything. There was nothing in his demeanor that appeared threatening at all.

Here this man sat outside of the icon of "Yuppydon" in his faded clothing with his army boots, back pack and old very mixed breed dog, and no one even acknowledged him.

Where has our humanity and compassion gone? When did we begin to feel so threatened by someone different, that we chose to ignore their existence when they are literally standing directly in our path?

What if that had been their brother, uncle, son, friend who had for reasons of his own, taken to a life style traveling on foot. In years gone by, this was not uncommon. I remember, what my Grandmother called Hobos, coming to the door of her home on the highway and asking to do chores for a meal, or to sleep in her barn. And she always treated them with kindness and respect.

I do understand the caution against doing that in this day and troubled times we live in. It is too dangerous. But something my mother taught me a long time ago always comes to mind when I see someone less fortunate than I am. "But for the Grace of God, go I."   And I want to add to that now for your consideration. "But for the Grace of God, goes one of my loved ones."

The kindness of your smile may help a person in difficult circumstances feel like a human being again. It just may make that next step a little lighter.

May God Bless us all.

We are human. We will make mistakes. We will need to say we are sorry and ask for forgiveness. Just because we become parents, doesn’t mean we are instantly infused with parental wisdom.  This is not said as an excuse or as a rationalization or is it meant to shift responsibility. I simply mean, life is very stressful today. For our children AND parents. If there is any real communication between people it is in a condensed form, which leads to confusion and mis information.

There is no ‘perfect parent’. It’s hit and miss. There are certain guidelines you follow, but as with any group of people, what works for one, doesn’t work for another. You need to be with someone consistently for long periods of time in order to know them well enough to figure out which is which. Today’s parents just don’t have enough time with their kids. I see it as more of society’s short coming than a parental short coming. Our jobs insist we spend more and more time away from our families. The jobs we do today are so much more involved, 10 – 20 years ago it took two or three people to cover our duties.  This stress cuts into our home time. Even if we do manage to make it home in a good mood, there is so much to get done when we do get home, there isn’t a lot of time left to just sit and play, or talk with our kids. This is assuming ‘they’ have the time, what with homework, extracaricular activities, sports, etc. etc..

Then on the other hand you have the schools putting the emphases on testing and burdening teachers with incredible work loads and requirements which doesn’t allow them the time to actually teach. To make up for the time not spent teaching a child how to learn, they send home incredible amounts of homework just to get the material covered. This is more time taken away from the free form environment children need in order to communicate ideas, thoughts, and worries.

These are just my opinions. I don’t believe there is a ‘one size fits all’ fix. Each situation is subject to interpretation. Add in divorce, and it ups the ante. The non-custodial parent has to try to find a balance between retaining disciplinarian power, and creating a relationship that invites confidences. Can you really blame them when they really just want to enjoy their child’s company for the short few days a month they have them? How can you be the all inclusive parent when you have them 48 to 96 hours a month? You don’t even have enough time to keep abreast of whose who and what’s what in that short weekend every other week, much less have deep philosophical discussions which open the window in to who they are developing into or what problems they are having. Parenting is not a 30 minute sitcom, or a movie of the week. As with all things real, it takes time for a problem to develop, and it takes time to correct it. We have run out of time.

Until society as a whole comes to terms with this and start implementing changes in operation, there will be disassociated children and parents. The one saving grace for us as parents, is once our children become parents, some of what we did/didn’t do will be validated. By then, hopefully communication between the child and the parent are in the process of being repaired.

Until that little fairytale begins, all we can do is continue to love them and do what we think is best, what’s within our ability to do, and have the courage to seek help when we don’t.

I love to drive down this street,

the yards so well kept,

the houses are neat,

the flowerbeds full of glory.

There are chairs and benches,

on the porch or the lawn,

rope swing hangs from a tree,

a child’s colored picture,

decorating a window.

There's life in these houses,

spilling out to the lawn,

porch lights stay lit,

until the last one comes home.

Where are those mornings,

when I cursed the alarm,

echoes of what do I wear,

where is my stuff,

Mom, please help me with my hair.

echo on and on.

When I rushed everyone off,

with lunches and homework,

then myself to work,

only to find I had,

A stain on my shirt.

Now they are on their way,

with new wings they’ve grown,

creating new lives,

moved out on their own,

the quiet takes on different shades,

of regret and loneliness.

I know it's not wrong to miss them,

but I just wish I could reach out and kiss them,

try to tell them how to live life to the fullest,

realizing they think I’m just being foolish .

So now I drive down this street,

looking at houses, the bikes on the lawns,

harried mothers calling their children home,

where the circus will soon convene.

Dinner, homework, a tuck and a giggle,

bath time, alone time, washing up after dinner,

honey you have really been too long on the phone,

more hugs and more snuggles,

the 10 o'clock news struggles,

a life, full and complete.

And I yearn …

Daughter kept saying, no, Mama, stay home. I'll call when it gets closer ( it was 2:30 am) ..... of course couldn't sleep.... couldn't work. Picked up GD #1 (7yrs) and brought her to the house. Put her to sleep. Couldn't sleep, couldn't work, couldn't watch TV, couldn't read.... couldn't do anything... should be there with daughter.... so the day goes.... decide to run up to the store to get sleeping GD set of clothes because they didn't send change. Left her still sleeping with youngest son. At the store I called HER to see if she needed me to pick anything up and she said, well, they're calling the Doctor, I'll call you after they leave. I said No, I am coming up. I went home, dropped off the clothes, #1 GD still asleep, leave her and head that way. Almost there and son in law calls, she's already born! grrrrr, I cussed maybe 10 minutes straight. I was so angry with myself because I didn't listen to my instinct 3 hours earlier and just go up there anyway.

I missed my first grandchild's birth. I had missed the first's because there was a tornado the night she was born and it cut electricity for miles. We were hearded into the waiting room in with flashlights to wait. And the excitment must have been enough to 'hurry' up the labor efforts and she was born by flashlight and back up generator emergency lights. My own little Texas Tornado. And is she too .....

I know my daughter isnt going to have another. Lucky she had the 1st one, much less to be doubly blessed. She told me in her 20's she didnt want to have kids. Seperated from her best friend WHILE she was pregnant with the first one. Then met this nice man, married him, said No Mama, no more babies.... then almost 2 yrs later, I get the 2nd blessing. I know not to stretch my luck.

Kids.... you think, Please Dear Lord, just let me get them grown and out of the house.... you may get them out of the house, but they are always in your business......curse or blessing... ask me some other day... to day she is my blessing ...or at least the "care taker" of two.

Well, Here I am. I am making the time to sit and write. Not so much a hardship for me. I love to write (and procrastinate). Have always loved to write (and procrastinate).  I love words. I get it from my Mother who is a fantastic writer. Both my children are fantastic writers. As they mature, I read their words and am amazed. I look for hints that they copied and pasted. But there are words and phrases and ways of describing things that have their finger prints. So I stick to amazed that they have developed into who they are "despite" me.

When our children are born, we have an idea of the 'blueprint' we envision their lives will be like. Then the reality of living gets involved and lets face it, we don't always make the right choices, or have the information, ways or means, to make them either. And life starts rewriting the 'blueprint'. I am introspective today because I am awaiting the birth of my second granddaughter. We are on the clock. According to the Dr., it will be this week. Either the way nature meant it, or induced. I don't think so "smuckin futch" of the last option. Where once it was used for extreme medical complications, it is now used as a convenience tool. I am a firm believer in NATURAL procession. When the BABY and the mother's BODY are ready, the baby will be born. I fear complications if this order is not followed. No matter how much science likes to think "IT" came before the egg, I believe otherwise. The Baby's body's survival outside the mother, and the stages and hormonal releases the Mother's body goes through are NECESSARY for the physical and mental health of both. When it's time, it's time, and not before. End of story.

So I am hoping and praying nature wins. And the Dr. is wise enough to see the difference. So I have the heightened awareness that this may be the last calm Sunday I will have for a while. If we make it though the day without "the call". If and when, all hell will break loose. I will take charge of my 7yr old Granddaughter while trying to be involved in the support of my new Granddaughter and her Mother. My only daughter. She plans to have GD #1 be as involved in the miracle as the hospital will allow. Which is not something I think is wise, but I have learned, it isn't my call unless my gut tells my head, it is time to take over. Which is a hard call. It isn't my family, it is my daughter's to create as she sees fit. I have had to (through many great bruising of my ego) to learn the difference between my own desires being broadcast or my gut instinct telling me to step up. And I am praying the hospital has a strict policy so I don't have to make the call and be the bad guy. I am also a coward. Or pacifist. Or chicken **it. I don't care how it's viewed as long as the right decision is made, and my daughter can't hold it against me.

One of my "fresh steps" I will enforce in my new quest for a healthier life style, will be none of my "special" treats in the house until I can get a handle on my snacking. My husband, thinking he was being loving and sweet, went out this morning while I still drooled on my pillow and bought sausage kolachi's and my all time favorite __"Apple Fritter"__. I can excuse the kolachi. But when I started nibbling on the fritter, so I didn't hurt hubby's feelings, (they need all the atta-boys they can get for training purposes ... oh don't groan and judge me or think bad thoughts, you know it's true) I snorted my coffee and almost choked, spewing my coffee all over myself. Gawd, don't you just HATE when that happens?! My "higher self" must have thought it was helping me.... busy body .... See if I tell it anything anymore....

OK, just reread and corrected spelling, sentence structure and punctuation, ( I know! and to think it still sucks this bad!!!) it is time to stop procrastinating. I have to go clean the bedroom. I haven't put away laundry, vacuumed, or cleaned the damned room since last year! Yeah, I know we are only so many days into the new year, but I mean before Thanksgiving .... give or take a few months. Hubby doesn't say anything because for one, he's a slob too, and two, if he doesn't mention it, he isn't responsible for cleaning it. See, someone has been training someone here.... (now don't you feel silly for those harsh words you thought earlier?).

I may say simple/silly things about my hubby. But he really is a good one. One of the best and I respect him and cherish the day we met.  The women in my family are all headstrong, stubborn and opinionated. But we are never boring. Our husbands are Saints for being able to put up with us and love us in spite of our 'inconsistencies". I said that nicely. But I know the truth. May be one of the only times I will admit it and or put it in writing. But it's OK. He won't read this, so I am safe.

Happy Sunday to All and to All a Good Day

Well, so I did it. I am starting a blog. I am inching closer and closer to the 21st century. Or something like that. I don't know what it will be about. Mostly a biglonghugeramble on something or other. There are a few subjects I would like to write about. NDEs. Fresh steps. And since it is the beginning of a new year - new starts. Not that nasty word, "RESOLUTIONS", but real changes I want to see in my own self, my life, and in my own behavior. You fight it, excuse it, rationalize it, but eventually you have to face the music if you want to move forward. I am ready to move forward. I've lived so many years trying to manipulate the obvious, and now it's time to actually fix it so the rest of my life will be more enriched and meaningful.

I mentioned NDEs. That was the reason I  looked into starting a blog. I've read what's out there. But I want to work it out as sanely as I can. Anyone who's experienced it, knows, trying to come to grips with it, is hugely important to understand. But with it being so 'subjective' it is hard. My thoughts normally far out races my attention. (Sure, make sense out of that!) By writing I am forced to slow down and follow them through. Hopefully this will help.

Hopefully I will find the time to do it regularly. I used to be under the assumption that the older you get, the more peace, quiet and time you would have. Wrong. The older I get, the more hectic it's become. Kids grow up and move out, but then you still have their lives to share. Except, now it's not under the same roof, you actually have to meet places. No more talking over the dishes or laundry, you have to travel to do it. And then you have Grandkids to adore and spoil, and you become the fall back guy if an extra set of hands or a warm body is needed. So much for the golden years. I am not complaining, I love every minute of it. It's just stressful trying to juggle.

I also work full time. Sometimes I think about quitting so I can live full time. Nice thought eh'?

Well, that's all for now. I hope you'all are as impressed as I am. I can just imagine the glazed over eyes if you even got this far. I know this is supposed to be for me. But I know it will be read by strangers too, although there aren't many people out there stranger than myself, so I've been told. Weirder, MUCH weirder, but not many who are stranger.