Donna's Domain

The Cricket Song....

2009-06-30T18:57:00.000-07:00

A southern night just wouldn't be a southern night without the sound of crickets filling the air. At times I find their performance annoying, mainly when I am trying to hear something and can't over their screams. However, for the most part, I find them comforting.

Late at night, I will hear them after the television dies and the air conditioner kicks off. That silent moment when your supposed to be sleeping. Thousands of them chirping in perfect rythme. I always find myself returning to a 13 year old girl sitting at her raised bedroom window blowing the smoke outside from a stolen ciggarette. I used to love their song then, too. It was there that I had planned my entire life. Made myself promises and vowed to be someone, while the crickets played on.

Now many moons later, I still find myself making new promises to myself in that early morning hour listening to the cricket's serenade. I also tally up what old promises I have yet to fulfill and restablish their importance. What a wonderful thing the crickets have given me. Crickets- the soundtrack of my life.

Man in the Mirror

2009-06-28T18:33:00.000-07:00

Michael Jackson. Funny how different that name looks with dates behind it. Whats even more errie to me is how my feelings toward the man suddenly changed when those dates were added. I have never considered myself a Michael Jackson fan and in all honesty found great joy in making fun of the man and his oddness.
Perhaps it is the endless television coverage that has changed my feelings but whatever it is, it worked. I have been reintroduced to Michael Jackson the musical genuis. The man that has been forgotten due to the elephant man and child molestion cases. It had been many moons since I actually seen the MJ from my childhood and seeing his old videos streaming across the screen reminds me of why he was such a big deal.
I was just a child, around 6, when Michael hit it big. Although I never viewed myself as having any connection with Michael Jackson because I was so young, I now realize that I did. My older cousins were of that Michael Jackson and Madonna era where the girls wore the massive amounts of bracelets with heavy bright makeup and the guys wore that all familiar red zippered jacket. I do remember slipping on my cousin's red jacket and trying to moonwalk across the floor. Never could, but boy did I try.
I almost feel like the world has missed out on a great event, knowing that his tour will never happen.
Rest in Peace Michael, Thanks for the memories......

Yearbooks and The Trauma They Cause

2006-10-20T17:39:00.000-07:00

I have now learned a very important lesson, it is wise to hide your old yearbooks from those who didn't go to school with you. For those books that you once waited anxiously for an entire year, is now the culprit that is sure to bring you down a notch. Most folks know this, this is the reason it is the first book they reach for on your bookshelf, they know it will be humilating."NO! You can't look at that!" You scream fully aware that you are acting like a child "Thats mine!"Of course, they snatch it back the second you look away. Then you have to spend an hour defending yourself, even though you know there really isn't any excuse to explain your 3 foot high bangs and M.C. Hammer pants. And heaven forbid they snatch an earlier one with you smiling like a complete moron in your New Kids on the Block T-shirt.Oh yeah, you start grasping straws to protect your present image "I had just gotten out of P.E.", or you find a classmate who was a little more pathetic than you (by mere inches, mind you) and draw the attention to them.Soon after, you decide to just burn the proof of your "coolness" so that it wil never bring you shame again. But what would the point when there are dozens of old classmates with the same book lining their shelves. Hmmm...I wonder if any of them b*****s ever used ME as the deter, "Hey, if you think I looked funny, check out this chick Donna, she had a rats nest for bangs." I'll have you to know, Its called TEASING one's hair and it was quite popular in those days!

Run, Bandit, Run!

2006-09-24T17:37:00.000-07:00

After reading my prior blog, I decided that I had another "Bandit" story to share. For those in the dark, Bandit is my next door neighbor's golden retriever and while Bandit is a pretty common name for pets, this name totally fits this particular pooch. I usually refer to him as the Al Capone of the canines basically because he is a menace to anything that moves. Bandit has never been a believer in that old adage of "Pick on somebody your own size", he will chase anything no matter if its bigger or smaller than himself. However, Bandit is really a good hearted chap, he never chases to inflict injury, he merely chases and nipples playfully. Honestly, he has to be the most playful dog I have ever encountered.
Now, I touched earlier on the animal situation at my adobe, but what I did not mention was the massive overflow of cats that is here. I have never seen so many cats in my entire life. The little boggers are everywhere you look. So it was only natural for Bandit to harass them. He would chase them down then slobber all of over them. I guess the cats would see Bandit as a annoyance. I mean, picture yourself stretched out under a shade tree minding your own business then all of the sudden, this big blur of orange fur comes running at you. Yes, Bandits days were being counted. The cats were planning a revolt.
That day came on a sunny afternoon as my neighbors were cooking out. Out of boredom, and their constant urging, I sat with them for a while chit chating. Bandit was being his normal self chasing a black kitten named "11:30" (They named him this because he was pitch black except for a small patch of brown on his leg, at birth he had been named Midnight, when the brown showed up, they changed it to 11:30.) Well, 11:30 wasn't putting up much of a fight, so Bandit got bored and set his scope on the gray tomcat "BooBoo". Now, I know BooBoo very well, and BooBoo don't play. BooBoo keeps to himself and has never been interested in making friends, that was why i was rather surprised that Bandit would try to play cowboy and indians with him. Just when I started to think that BooBoo had a heart after all, I watched and listened as he made a devilish hiss and sunk both front paws into Bandit's cheeks. Of course, Bandit, after being stunned began to yelp. This must has attracted the other cats because the next thing you know a whole slew of them are running across the yard toward the fight, eager to also take a bite out of the bandit. Poor Bandit was covered in felines out for revenge. My neighbor began yelling, hoping to break it up, but they would not retreat, they were on a mission, and even us humans were afraid to intervene. All of the sudden, my neighbor stands up and in fear yells, very loud might I add "For the love of God, Run Bandit Run!" Bandit merely whimpers. Someone yells "Get the water hose" and before you know it the massive fur ball is being soaked, and cats start running for their lives in every direction. By miracle, Bandit was not severly hurt but he did have his battle wounds. But the cats did succeed in their task, Bandit no longer chases the cats. I think they made it clear how that felt about his surprise attacks.

Three Little Pigs

2006-09-22T17:27:00.000-07:00

There is only ONE thing that my next door neighbors and I have in common and that is the fact that we are animal lovers. Hell, I even got my cat from them. Just one of about 56 kittens born by their cat ho "Piper." They are constantly getting new puppies, dogs, and cats who always end up being just as much my pets as theirs. Nope, it doesn't bother me in the least to pull up in the mornings to a group of dogs wagging their tails pleaing insanely for a pat on the head. It is also very common to find a new dog amongst them.
That is why about a week ago, I was not surprised to see 3 new black puppies wandering around the yard being chased by the golden retriever "Bandit". I paid the group little attention. Bandit has always been the "bully" of the pack and I figured they just needed to get used to it since they were dogs and all, Bandit learned long ago to not mess with the cats.
Every morning the new pups would watch me as I went from the car to my door but would never approach. I suppose this morning they deemed me "safe" and wanted to make contact, because as soon I opened the car door, I saw three little black heads make their way around the side of my car. I admit I was too was eager to make their acquaintince. So, I made my way toward them and then stopped in shock then bellowed "Your a d***n pig!" All three stood beside one another just looking at me twisting their little snouts as they sniffed the air. They were an adorable trio, but they were still pigs and I had never actually had a head on confrontation with a pig before so I was rather unsure of how to proceed. Of course, me being the genuis that I am, I began to talk to the little critters to keep from "hurting their feelings". "I would pet you, but I'm not sure if you should actually pet pigs, not that I have anything against pigs or anything, this is just a new experience for me and all." They still just stared at me. "Do any of you guys bite or anything, I mean if I tried to pet you would you attack me or something?" After a couple of minutes of me chit chatting with the pigs, I realized that my neighbor had been listening to me all along from his bedroom window cause all of the sudden, I heard him hollar out "Donna, they don't speak English." Of course I felt my face turn red from embarrasment, this had been one of those private moments that you hoped no one would learn about, so it was a mixture of embarassment and nervousness that caused me to respond with the ever clever "Well, I was just asking them cause I wanted them to understand that I wasn't being mean by not petting them." My neighbor insulted my pride even more by laughing hysterically and shouting "Just pet the d**n pigs, they won't bite you!".

The Monthly "Gift"

2006-09-16T17:26:00.000-07:00

I have always prided myself on the fact that I was different than other women, due to the fact that during my monthly visits, I never cramped, or had mood swings. Yes, I saw myself as special, above all the others. I was something great.
Then all of the sudden, IT happened. It kinda frightened me at first, that first time I found myself plotting a coworker's death because she drank the last cup of tea. Something was happening, strange things were amiss. Everyone was just plain disguisting. Out of the blue I noticed another co-workers ugly shoes and it pissed me off. How dare she come into my presence with such wretched footwear. And yet another had a tiny bleach stain on her scrub top, further enraging me. Pitiful people, I am tired of people running over ME like that! Drinking all the tea and then forcing me to stare at bleach stains...I'm just tired of it!
Then comes the next phase, the "poor pitiful me" stage. Where I spend an hour feeling sorry for myself and how cruel people treat me. I'm just too nice, I just care too much about other people. I am a saint and everyone else is just plain evil. I shutter to think how the world would cope without me to shed kindness to the masses. And it is THEN that the worse occurs.
I decide that I am done with being so nice and sweet while everyone treats me like dirt. I will defend myself and my perfection. I become a total bitch. "Was that tea good?" I ask with a snarl "I hope so, since you seem to think you are the only one here who needs something to drink." To which the other replies "Oh, Donna, I'm sorry, I thought you were drinking your Pepsi." I grip my FULL Pepsi bottle to keep from choking her neck, Now she's trying to get smart, pointing out my Pepsi like that, I better just end this conversation before we start fist fighting. "No, No, Its okay" I mouth as I walk off "Your the only human that needs hydration to survive."
So I guess, I have now lost that wonderful trait that made me so special. I have joined the ranks of other PMS physcos. I am woman, hear me roar....

Why is Everyone Trying To Kill Me?

2006-09-10T17:24:00.000-07:00

I have an obsession. True Crime. I love it. Don't ask me why, but I just get a rush out of watching/ reading the stories. I am always fascinated by how they solve the crimes. My favorite part is predicting the outcomes which often I get it right.
However, as much as I love it, I do have to limit myself because they also make me paranoid as hell. I can always tell when I need to slack off a bit because the thought "I wonder if so-so is trying to poison me or something....she stood beside my glass for a while then I started feeling weird after I drank it" enters my mind. Then I start to remind myself of other "poisoners" profiles I had read. Lets see....they were a little standoffish..Oh hell, so is she. They were a little shy and not one for direct confrontations...Yet another charecristic she has...they had a way of being sneaky...she is a sneaky as a snake..Thats it! That Bitch is trying to kill me. How dare she, she must think I'm stupid. Good thing I watch Court TV, or I would've never even known (this is an attempt to convience myself that watching Court TV is actually good for me and a habit I must keep). Then I find myself holding all my cups within her presence. Look at her, shes beside herself now..just hoping I'll put my cup down so she can sneak some arsenic in it.
Yeah, thats when I know its time to cool it with the True Crime stuff. Either that, or check myself into a looney bin.

Sometimes I'm a Little Slow.....

2006-09-05T17:19:00.000-07:00

Last week, I spent my offdays with my dad in Sylacauga (don't ask why, I don't wanna talk about it). During this time, I managed to take a quick trip to the library to do some genealogy research. As I reach the door, there is another guy going in. Like always, he held the door open for me to go in and I gave my sweet little smile and said "Thank you" like I always do. He then asks "How are you today?" Common enough, eh? I give my stock answer "I'm fine, what about you?" Then as I walk by, the dude stops me and says "How did you say you was?" Assuming he was hard of hearing or something, I raised my voice a little and repeated "I said I was fine." The guy then gets a little devil grin on his face and says "Yeah, I can see that, you trying to brag about it?" I just gave my southern belle smile and hurried inside thinking to myself what an asshole this dude was.
The whole time I am in the genealogy room, he keeps passing by looking in at me, this ticks me off even more. How in the hell did he want me to answer, "Life sucks and I'm tired of living". I then spend the next couple of minutes proving to myself that I was not the one in the wrong here. Everybody says "fine" he is just a jerk, and look there he goes by again trying to rub salt in the wounds. The rest of the time I was trying to figure out exactly how one was supposed to answer the question without seeming concieted or prideful. Hmmm..maybe he was in a shitty mood and chose me to dish it out on, I should just ignore it and not let it bother me anymore. And just when I started having sympathy for the clearly sad man thinking of what a horrible childhood he must have had...he walks by yet again smiling and staring at me. Of course, he must have known his comment insuted me and he was taunting me by letting me know how proud he was of himself. Men can be such heartless assholes.
Since I was not enjoying the fun this guy was having at my expense, I gathered my stuff together to just leave. Of course, Mr. Personality follows me right out the door and stands at his car, watching me like he was expecting me to say something. He never did get a word, I jumped in my car and sped off. I watched in the rear view mirror as he watched me leave with a confused look on his face.
It wasn't until later that I retold my horrible encounter to a friend the other day who busted out laughing that I realized that maybe I had been wrong in my assumption. "Donna, the guy was hitting on you for crying out loud!" At first I still didn't get it until she restaged the event by telling to walk through a door and then repeated the same line a little suggestively suddenly "I can see that, are you trying to brag about it" seemed so obvious it was pathetic. She just continued laughing and shaking her head "No wonder your still single."
I almost started to tell her my story "Sean the soldier" but decided I had already made a fool of myself enough. Who was Sean? He had been a co-worker of my stepdads who asked me out for dinner and a movie. I accepted and was exstatic. Instead of him picking me up, I said that "I would rather meet him there." That way if he didn't show up..no one else would witness the shame. So, there I go to the resturant and I SIT in the parking lot for about 10 minutes before I tell myself "Fuck it, I'm not about to walk in there and make a fool of myself when he aint there!" I even looked around the parking lot where I was sure he would be sitting with a group of friends waiting for me to go in so they could laugh their asses off when I actually showed up. So what did I do? I left, totally pissed off that he would be so cruel. By the time I got home, I was convienced that he had set the whole thing up to be funny.
When I walked in, my mom and stepdad was clearly worried, thinking that I had been a car accident or something. When they asked what happened, I informed them that "Sean is a jerk and he had stood me up!" To which my mom responded "Well the jerk has called 4 times and has been waiting at the resturant for 45 minutes now."

Moonshiners and Pistols

2006-09-03T17:14:00.000-07:00

There was once a man named Joseph Jody "Joe" McDonald who was declared the best gunman in Talladega County. And of course, he was my 2nd great grandfather.
Now Joe, was a bit of a charecter. The man was so tall that it was hard to even get a full body picture of him without cutting off his head. Family legend says that his hands were so massive that he could hold a newborn baby in one hand. After seeing his pictures, its not so hard to imagine.
If his large frame and superior gun skills were not enough to scare folks his horrid temper was. He was Scottish Indian, if that gives you any clue to what kind of temper he possessed. One sure way to see that temper was to arrive at his house uninvited. It was easy to know whether or not Joe wanted your company...if you made it to the house without hearing a gunshot pass by your head, that was Joe's way of welcoming you.
Well, it just so happen that one day the Sheriff decided to make a trip down to Joe's unannounced. Joe was well known to the Sheriff since along with being the best shot of the county, he was also a top moonshiner.
The Sheriff barely made it up the drive before gun shots started ringing out. He'd stop for a few minutes and then start again just to hear another one whistle past. Finally when the gun shots stopped, the sheriff made it to the house to find Joe standing on the front porch, gun at his side.
"Joe, you just can't be shooting at people like that" the sheriff spated "You must have not known it was me, but I caught you this time."
"I knew it was you, Sheriff" Joe replied "thats why I missed."
Of course, the Sheriff was furious "You mean to tell me you willingly opened fire on a law man?"
"Yes, sir" Joe nodded "Had to give my boys time to hide the moonshine."
"So your moonshining again?" The Sheriff asked.
"Yes, Sir" Joe smiled "I never quit."
"Well then" the Sheriff shook his head "I guess we both know what this means."
"Sure do" Joe grinned "Your gonna have a hell of time proving it since my eye sight can get a little hazy at times and that badge is mighty tiny. Hell, I thought it was some thief trying to steal my horses, I would've never shot him if I had known it was the Sheriff."
Needless to say, Joe never did have to spend a single second in jail even though everyone in law enforcment knew he was a moonshiner.

Hiding Go Seek

2006-08-31T17:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this new chick I'm being forced to work with...it is so NOT working out. I have managed to ignore her dumb gaze that is always planted across her scrunched up pitiful face. I even act as if she is not completely stupid when she says the most stupidest things EXAMPLE: When discussing a ex co-worker who had been a housekeeper, I pointed at the door made the comment of how "She just walked right out that door." Meaning, she quit. This chick responds with "No wonder she quit if they were expecting her clean outside too!" No, I'm not making it up, she actually said that. However, last night was the final straw, she completely screwed up everything that I had worked so hard to accomplish.
Point in case. There is a certain home health aide that comes in every morning that I utterly detest. She is annoying as hell and sadily worst of all..she thinks I am her friend. So, to save myself from her 30 minute conversations about whatever screwed up subject she can think of...I found myself a nice little hiding place. It was perfect and she has never been able to find me, UNTIL NOW.
It just so happens that as I hurried into my hiding spot, which WAS the beauty parlor, little miss I'm not very bright followed in right behind me. I quickly explained to her that I was hiding from the other aide. For about 5 seconds, everything was grand. There we sat, quietly listening for footsteps. Then all of the sudden, the chick starts talking...not whispering..but talking loudly. Even now I'm not actually sure what she was talking about because I was so pissed that I couldn't make out her words. So I try to get the message across softly by saying in the middle of her chitchat "This is a really good hiding spot, really its about the only spot you can hide." The chick continues blabbing away like I had not even spoke. "YEAH, I'VE BEEN HIDING HERE FOR ABOUT A YEAR NOW AND SHE HAS NEVER BEEN ABLE TO FIND ME". Motormouth still feels the need to chat and it is now that I realize that she is not going to shut up, so just when I start to lift my finger to my lips to gesture "Shhh." The door flys open and there SHE is the one I had hoped to avoid asking "what are ya'll doing in here?" I simply responded with a very curt "I like the atmosphere." I then enjoyed a 30 minute chat about her car tires courtesy of Ms. Moron.
I'm not sure how much more of this chick, I will be able to take. I remind myself that I must be strong and that one day I will enjoy looking back and making fun of her and sharing stories of the ignorant chick I had to work with, it is this thought that gives me the strength to endure this torture. I will survive. Her on the other hand...well I'm not making any promises on just how long she WILL SURVIVE.

Great Depression Coffee

2006-08-27T17:04:00.000-07:00

Anyone who works third shift knows that you have secrets to maintain your energy when you get a bit groggy. Mine has always been to brew a extra strong pot of coffee and fill it with sugar for a quick punch your ass out slap in the face. Sugar and caffine always gets the blood pumping.
This particular night, I carried on the tradition filling the biggest mug I could find with sugar from an unmarked container. Not that it was odd to find sugar in such a container, really it was quite normal. Often first shift aides would put sugar in little cups or any other available container for our residents to use at breakfast time. I always used what was left over. So, there I was with my big mug of extra sweet and extra strong coffee.
I hurried onto the front porch to sit and smoke a ciggarete with my "early bird" resident that always comes up at 4:30 a.m. for coffee and smokes. So, there we sat chatting away, her drinking her coffee and me waiting for mine to cool a bit. Just as I thought it was cooled off enough, I lifted the mug to my lips and took a large drink. The resident was also in the process of taking a drink when I yelped "Oh shoot!" and spit the drink I had taken out onto the porch. Without a thought the resident follows my lead and spits out her drink and yells "I'll be damned." (Yes, she said DAMN, she says it often, thats why she's my favorite ;) So, I start gagging and here is this little ole lady beating the hell out of my back yelling "Get it out!"
After the occurance, she just stares at me unsure of what had just happened, and I ask her "Why did you spit out your coffee?" To which she replied "Well, I figured something had to be wrong with it." That was when I explained to her that "I had put 4 tablespoons of SALT in my coffee." She looks at me strangely and then says "Well, next time maybe you just need to put 2 tablespoons if its too strong for you." To which I began laughing hysterically and explained that I had meant to put sugar instead of salt, I then asked her "did you really think I meant to put salt in my coffee?"
Her response was golden "Honey, I grew up in the depression, we put alot of things worse than salt in our coffee, so who am I to judge you?"

Hollywood

2006-08-16T16:51:00.000-07:00

"Did you know that a girl hung herself on the H of the Hollywood sign?" It was a simple question. But of course, I couldn't just let it be. No, not I..the queen of research. I assumed it was probably just some dramatic scene off some film that landed itself into the urban legend catagory. After all, would that not be the ultimate "Kiss my Arse, Hollywood!" Sadily and not believing it..I even talked about how "cool" it was. Words that I now regret. For it was true.
She was an England born girl named Peg Entwistle and her life was anything but "cool." She lost both her parents at a young age and had made a name for herself on Broadway in New York. When the great depression hit, people could no longer afford to eat much less spend what little money they had on Broadway tickets. Leaving the glamourus lights of Broadway darkened for a spell. Peg did what many Broadway actors did, move to Hollywood and try to make it in the "talking movies."
With the new invention of being capable of adding sound to film, the "silent film" era was coming to a close. Viewing the silent film stars as unable to adjust to the new era of film, the Hollywood producers were recruiting from Broadway. Peg must have assumed, she would be a perfect fit and moved in with her two brothers and uncle Harold not far from the famous sign that read "HollywoodLand" at the time.
Things didn't go as well as she expected. One night, she told her uncle that was going for a walk. And walk, she did...straight up to the Hollywood sign. After folding her jacket neatly and placing her purse filled with a sucide note, she used the maintence ladder to she climbed her way to the top of the letter H. Once atop the massive sign, she jumped. Causing her broken body to roll to the bottom of the hill.

A&E Network Ruins A Beautiful Thing.....

2006-08-06T16:47:00.000-07:00

Being that I have researched my family history for about 5 years now, I have established a certain pride when it comes to my ancestors. Last night, A&E wrecked that pride to shreds.
As I sat watching an A&E In the Classroom documentary (my attempt to recover all the knowledge I willingly ignored while in MY classroom) about illegal drugs and how they became illegal. Actually, it WAS rather interesting. Seems that in the 1800's people used cocaine and herion, like we use Tylenol today. No surprise, the drugs were a cure all for whatever ailed ya. People even had little jars labeled "cocaine" like we do sugar and flour. Of course, during this time era, it was not illegal or considered a "drug", it was considered medicine.
This caused me to look a little closer at my ancestors and the wonderful things they did with a suspicious raised eyebrow.
For instance, lets take my 5th Great Grandfather. Jim Splawn from Bibb County, Alabama. While fighting for the Confederacy he was injured when the horse he was riding drew up and threw him off. Now, in my minds eye, I always invisioned a strong soldier riding hard for his beloved homeland. Now, I can only wonder....perhaps he fell simply because he was high on cocaine.
Another ancestor had an entire town in North Carolina named after him for his bravery of being the first pioneer to settle the area. What if it wasn't bravery at all? What if it was just the herion making him not see things clearly.
But the most heartbreak was the realization that my 5th greatgrandmother who was a midwife and herb doctor could have just been a modern day drug dealer.
Thank you, A&E...you just shot my self esteem to hell and back! You dirty bastards!
However, there is one good thing to come from this tragedy. History has long made a habit of showing old photos of Southern men with a far off look in their eyes, making mankind view them as slow and stupid. Now the truth is known: They were neither slow nor stupid...they were just high as hell!

My what pretty feet you have.....

2006-08-03T16:08:00.000-07:00

Never have I ever claimed to be well informed of the latest fashion trends, however, there are those times when my eyes catches something that makes me scratch my head and say "What the F***?"
My most recent moment was when a co-worker bravely (very bravely might I add) wore a pair of open toed shoes to work. I found myself staring at her feet in amazement. Luckily, they were well manicured but it was her choice in..umm..decoration that had me a little confused.
French manicured toe nails. Now, to be fair, I am a red toe polish kind of gal...I stand firmly in my belief that toes should always be red. This prejudice of the world of nail polish may well be my reason for the disguist I felt when seeing her toe nails gleaming with a french manicure. Either way, I found the situation disturbing.
I have always thought that a well manicured foot should have trimmed toe nails. Is not the purpose of a french manicure to expose the nail's length? I found myself fighting the desire to find a pair of nail clippers and trim the woman's nails. **Shakes head softly** Just didn't seem right for some strange reason. What is our world coming to?