Sunday, March 26, 2017

How Do I Stop Verbal Abuse? You Dont!!! ;

How Do I Stop Verbal Abuse?
The answer to “How Do I Stop Verbal Abuse?” is…drum roll, please…You can’t! I wish that you could control how another person speaks and how they act. But you can’t.
Raise your hand if you’ve ever asked your verbally abusive husband or boyfriend to speak to you in a nicer way. Raise your hand if you’ve tearfully begged your verbally abusive wife to be kinder to you. Wow. That’s a lot of hands.
Did it work? No. At least not forever. The next time your abuser felt turmoil, s/he used their anger or sly verbal manipulations to bring you down again because you cannot stop verbal abuse.

Why You Cannot Stop Verbal Abuse

So, you want to know how to stop verbal abuse? I will give you an answer, but you're probably not going to like it. Read on for your answers.Verbal abusers gain control and they benefit from abusing you. By abusing you, they feel more in control of your thoughts, emotions, and actions. When the abuser infiltrates your every thought, you’re more likely to do things and say things the abuser implanted in your mind. By controlling you, he or she gains more control over his or her life, too.
Your abuser knows that after verbally abusing you, you will react in predictable ways. You may cry, you may yell, but after awhile, you go back to them with an open heart, begging for them to love you. And every time you beg to be worthy of your abuser’s love, they get a self-esteem kick out of it.
Even if they are the ones begging you to love them again, they see your agreement as a win. The abuser does not compromise, even if he or she pretends to do so. Every conversation you have is either a win or loss for the abuser. And the abuser hates to lose. Therefore, your abuser will drone on and on and on until they feel like they’ve won. And the thrill of getting you back or winning the conversation is enough to keep them coming back for more.
Your desire for them to love you makes them feel important and in control. When you tell your abuser how you feel, or how you want things to be, or how much you love them, you give your abuser ammunition. By opening your heart to your abuser, s/he gains a little more insight into what makes you tick. When you open up, your abuser learns new ways to hurt you, and then files the information away for the next time s/he feels out of control and needs you to react in a predictable way so they can feel at peace and in control.
You can’t stop verbal abuse. You can’t stop your abuser from abusing you. They are too invested in you to ever stop abusing you. Your reactions to their abuse makes you an invaluable asset; an asset they do not want to abandon because they do not know how to feel good about themselves without you feeling badly.

More Bad News About Why You Can’t Stop Verbal Abuse

Here’s the next bit of bad news. You can’t teach them how to feel good about themselves in any “normal” way.
It doesn’t matter to them if you are the most successful psychologist in America whose focus is on healing families suffering from verbal abuse. It doesn’t matter to them how many other people think you are right or knowledgeable or deserve better treatment than the crap your abuser dishes out. You cannot teach an abuser to think differently because you are the target. The abuser’s self-proclaimed job is to make you less than who you are so they feel better about themselves. Period.So, you want to know how to stop verbal abuse? I will give you an answer, but you're probably not going to like it. Read on for your answers.

You Can’t Stop Verbal Abuse Because You Are Only A Target

Riflemen and bow hunters learn to hone their skill to hit the bullseye each and every time from the target they use for practice. An abuser learns how to hit you more accurately the next time – how to hit you verbally, emotionally, mentally or physically with greater effect – because you are the target he or she uses for practice.
The only thing you can do to stop the verbal abuse is to remove yourself from it. You must at the very least become a moving target. You can do that in several different ways. Some of you are not ready to physically leave your abuser, and that is okay.
Honestly, you may never leave your abuser. You may choose to stay in your abusive relationship for any number of reasons; I stayed in my abusive marriage for just shy of 18 years. If you choose to stay – it is a choice, believe it or not – there are still things you can do to help preserve your sanity.

A True Story: The Tablecloth......by Rigg Kennedy from FB


> THE TABLECLOTH
>
> The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry,
> to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn, arrived in early October excited
> about their opportunities. When they saw their church, it was very run
> down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything done in time
> to have their first service on Christmas Eve.
>
> They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc., and on
> December 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished. On December
19
> a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two
> days.
>
> On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sank when he
saw
> that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by
> 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit,
> beginning about head high.
>
> The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to
> do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home. On the way he
> noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for
> charity so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, handmade,
ivory
> colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross
> embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size to cover up
the
> hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
>
> By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the
> opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor
> invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.
>
>
> She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a
ladder,
> hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor
> could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire
> problem area.
>
> Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was like
> a sheet.. "Pastor," she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?"
>
> The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner
> to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These
> were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years
> before, in Austria.
>
> The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just
gotten
> the Tablecloth. The woman explained that before the war she and her
husband
> were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to
> leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. She was
> captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.
>
> The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep
> it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home, that was the
> least he could do.. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was
> only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
>
> What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost
> full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the service, the
> pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they
> would return.
>
> One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood, continued
> to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn't
> leaving.
>
> The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it
> was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in
> Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much
> alike.
>
> He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for
> her safety, and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put
> in a prison.. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years in
> between.
>
> The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride.
> They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had
> taken the woman three days earlier.
>
> He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's
> apartment knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he
> could ever imagine.
>
> True Story - submitted by Pastor Rob Reid
>
> Who says God does not work in mysterious ways..
>
> I asked the Lord to bless you as I prayed for you today. To guide you and
> protect you as you go along your way. His love is always with you, His
> promises are true, and when we give Him all our cares you know He will see
> us through. So when the road you're traveling on seems difficult at best..
> Just remember I'm here praying and God will do the rest.
>
>
> Pass this on to those you want God to bless, and don't forget to send it
> back to the one who asked God to bless you first
>
>

Saturday, March 18, 2017

The Ghost on Terrace Avenue

Today was like any other ordinary day not that I didn't wish for it to be more or even less depending on the subject matter.  I worked until mid afternoon, stopped at the second hand store only to find nothing, then the bank to deposit less then the usual weeks wage.  Thought about stopping for some groceries but turned that idea to the wind and went home.  As I pulled into the underground parking I wondered when the next time I would leave it would be.  I do like order and I like to know what's next but today I didn't have that privilege as tomorrow was a no work day with no plans. I unloaded the car, pulled the little Grannie cart full of to do's to the elevator and then first floor.  Unlocked the door to 101 to greet the oncoming rush of my three roommates. Gracie Allen, 7 lb. non yippee Chihuahua Pekingese mix, Bob the 11 pound rescue tiger cat, and Lucy Lou the beautiful "Snowshoe" rescue from the family funny farm.  Yes they all come to greet me!  Sometimes its annoying but mostly its swell.  Next I take Gracie out to podie.....  Today in Wisconsin we had sunshine.  Write that down because it is as rare around here lately as it is to hear TRump tell the truth.

Back to my point which I haven't even made yet but was headed for.  Gracie and I head out due East. ( A little drama)   We walked two blocks when I decided to turn back.  I could see someone walking toward us in the far distance but it wasn't a very clear image.  I recall thinking I might need new glasses because danged if I could get a clear vision of the person.  It was obvious this person was not walking normally.  I had an eerie feeling especially considering we were on a face to face collision course.  The closer we got the more eerie it got.  I considered crossing the street then unconsidered it as each step made that option impossible. It was too late.  Dear God what was that "thing" coming toward me?  I decided to pick Grace up ten paces before it struck us.  Did I think it would strike us?  No, but I sure knew something was not right.   I could not tell if "it" was a he or a she.   The closer "it" got caused me to shudder a hundred times under my skin. Ghost bumps as big as golf balls on every part of my being.  Swirls of fear and the anticipation of possible death surrounded me.  Drama?  Oh yes and no...."It" was real. "It" had long hair.  A hoodie over the hair and light gray eyes with dark dark circles surrounding them.  Really dark circles. A drawn sunken gray face to match the eyes.

  This person or thing walked not with a limp but with each step it placed all its body weight on first the left, then the right making it appear as though the legs were stiff or the hips didn't give even a centimeter.  The right hand held a small bag of just purchased something....and the left hand was hanging very low with its fist clenched. It come closer and closer until finally at my front left side.  I said, "Good afternoon."  "It" said NOTHING.  A cold forward stare sent more golf ball chills thru me like the cold icy winter wind of a blizzard.  There was no way I could continue walking in the opposite direction of "it."  I whirled around facing "it"  as I walked backwards holding Gracie.  "It" person never missed a beat...just walked like a robot down the sidewalk.  I remember thinking what if "it" turns around like I did and see's me walking backwards stalking "it."  Well I wasn't stalking, but I was unsure for sure. I considered following "it" to make sure "it" had a home "it" was going to.  Or to make sure "it" was real and not a ghost or dear God an Angel in disguise because I would have failed that test for real today.

I enjoy the paranormal but I am also cautious of "it".  Today was cautious day. The person I encountered was not friendly nor was it normal in appearance in any way. "It" was the most evil thing I have seen in person in a long long time if ever.  But in thinking on it rationally I wonder if "it" wasn't merely an old woman with no vehicle going to the PDQ for bread.  Nawh, it was an old man that went to the liquor store for a bottle of Wodka!  Or was "it" the ghost of Terrace Avenue and I am one of the few selected humans who have gotten to see it show itself.  Only the strong evil ones can manifest themselves after passing.  Regardless,  "It" thang scared the beegeebeeze outta me today.  Not that I would have changed a thing though.  I am thankful to be alive and cautious. I always say, "There are two being buried at the Regent Street Cemetery and one being dug for."  I'm good.
P.S.  This is a true story.

Monday, December 26, 2016

The Million Dollar Chandelier........................by Diane Ogden


This Chandelier really isn't a million dollars.  But it might as well be because it is $1,000.00.  I was looking through Craig's List today and happened upon this beautiful chandelier listed at $1,000.00. And it noted the crystals are Swarovski.  Really?  Well I guess I have had a Swarovski thousand dollar Chandelier hanging in my bedroom all these years.  And I got mine at the resale shop for $75.00.



I called this post The Million Dollar Chandelier because that is one of my favorite phrases....  Whether at the drive up banking teller or at J.C. Penney.  Whenever I am asked if there is anything else they can do for me I inevitably say, "Yes, a MILLION DOLLARS please."  It always brings a smile to the teller or clerk.  

So either I have an authentic Swarovski  Crystal Chandelier glistening and dancing above my head like a million in my bedroom, or the person on Craig's list is going to take someone for a fancy ride on a crystal chandeliers "tale." 
Either way, I love mine. 

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Maniac's or Maybe Just Kids................by Diane Ogden

I was a thinking about having a very quiet relaxing weekend after cleaning FOURTEEN houses last week....  not to mention baking a few dozen cookies for my old bestie who had two brain aneurysms removed.  Shesshh I cant even spell those bloody things and that is just fine with me. I want no closeness to them whatsoever...  anyways...  I rec'd a text, no one calls anymore, especially if they are asking for favors.  It was my one and only daughter.  She told me my Granddaughter was begging to see me.  That merely meant my daughter was in dyer need of some respite.  Then I heard the typed words (yes you can hear typed words) reverberate in my head.... "Oh, Carson wants to come too!"  Okay, here's the deal.  Carson is my daughter's boyfriends son.  He is almost 5, so he is a 4. Said boyfriend has custody of that boy whose Mom left him and went off to California with her new boyfriend and her pregnant new child. I do not mean to be flippant.  It is serious for that young boy and ME if I am going to be a partaker of the situation.  Bottom line...I say YES!  No I type YES!  Really I am thrilled to have the kids yet a bit apprehensive.  To the point of calling one of my clients and asking what the heck I do with two 5 year olds.  You know, one almost 5 and one 5.  She gave me some ideas....not to mention it is freezing outside and I have donned myself in brown tights, brown boots with no lining, a pale peach light sweater (OMG, got it at Hells Gate, Wal Mart)meaning it is frail from China.  All this is saying, we are not going any of those outdoor activities she suggested.  I thanked her profusely and moved on.   It also entered my head that I had no kid food at my old grandma apartment.  Gawd, no mac n cheese, no candy, no caffeine poop, no pop...sorry.  No ice cream, no chips, no nadda nothin'.  Okay deal Nana D.  And so I did as I always do in this life.

I met them at a designated place.  They were so excited and so was I.  Was that dumb? Probably.  But we did have a blast.  We laughed the whole time except when they decide to "spank" Gma while she was preparing pancakes the morn after the day before. I say morn for a reason, see?  They hit my rear end with a force I had forgotten existed.  I tried to make a joke of it like I always do with all in life I don't like dealing with.  It didn't work. So I used the REAL VOICE.  Scared the bageebeez outta them. Little brats...

I did take them to the Christmas Light Show near Olin Park.  Carson, who has an issue with his bladder due to the issue with his mother abandoning him to California, had to pee.  There we were at a large park with  dog (Gracie) in the front seat, and two lil people in back seat,

one of which had to pee.  Shitski, so did I but as far as I could see we were screwed.  Then like a flash there they were....TWO BIG BLUE BUCKIES!

I squeezed through the orange barrels and parked.  Success I thought....nope.  LOCKED.  We walked over to the little booths where people volunteer to give out candy canes and doggie biscuits to the site seers.  No one told them the Buckies were locked...  some phone calls made and whalla I am standing behind a little boy who thank GOD and all his ANGELS made it.  I gotta say it was sooo cold in that Bucky I thought he would freeze it.  I also have to say how clean it was.  Heck I would have sat on that one without hesitation.  Probably because we were the first ones to use it all day. And then we drove away to the Grocery store for kid food.


What was I thinking?  They each grabbed a "customer in training" tiny cart and took off.  Need I say more.  I will say we did cause a lot of laughter as we "carted" thru Metcalfs West Town Mall.  We got Milk, organic mac n cheese, cheese, Orange juice, Ice Cream, and GUM.  I forgot what else.  We or I survived.

We arrived home.
 They threw things at each other in my little apt.  I took them to a Christmas Cookie gathering of the tenants I have never met as I have recently moved in here.   I was scared to flippin life they would mess up.  We went upstairs.....they were good.

Then they went into the bedroom with permission from another Gma and they proceeded to KILL IT!  We left with two choc chip cookies wrapped in poinsettia napkins never to return.

Actually it was a fun two days.  I miss them already.  Sort of.

Friday, December 2, 2016

My New Christmas Mittens....................by Diane Ogden

Sounds like the title of a Children's book or like I just got a new kitten named Mittens! No, I really did get a new pair of mittens.  And I got them off a Christmas Tree where I get my  nails done.....albeit, "My new Christmas Mittens. "

They are amazing....
$25.00..... very well made.  White fleece lined.  Sooo warm.
I will keep them in my vehicle at all times with my winter safety kit.  I better work on that kit considering I hear 2" are due by morning.  A little or a lot of snow would be nice for the season.  Then no more....
Feel free to email this wonderful lady for a pair of her Christmas Mittens...  that are nothing to do with cats or children's books.
When I wear them I feel like I am wearing one of those expensive hand knit sweaters from Norway.
No really!

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Middleton, Wisconsin........"Coming Home!"

Okay, so I have moved twice in the past six months due to personal issues.  Before that I lived in the same place for thirteen plus years.

I found a place to call home in Middleton, Wisconsin.  I hated it before I ever arrived....but that had to do with the unresolved personal issues.  And to be honest I hated it or I should say I didn't feel I belonged here for quite some time.  (I would say sixty days from the day I stood in here staring at the lease for at least ten minutes plus with the most anxiety I have felt since I crossed the Mississippi Bridge thirty years plus ago)  But then as I started moving things in and residents came to me in hallways inviting me to coffee's and luncheons and Christmas Cookie affairs, as well as they came introducing themselves in the underground parking, outside dog walking, entrances, and elevator!  I began (duh) to notice the unusual friendliness.  I cannot say I have ever experienced that anywhere I have ever lived in my life...  I have experienced it at Corporate positive sales meetings.  But this was a far cry from that!  You only know what I am talking about if you have ever experienced it.  Sort of like a multi-level push team go go pep rally. No Seriously.  Maybe that means I am where I am supposed to be.  Ya' think?

A few days after moving in..... One of my neighbors who is actually a high school classmate who came by with two of the most amazing cupcakes I have ever eaten in my life from Blooms Bakery.  And now I will have to FIGHT off that desire daily for however long I live here..  In fact I eat less all week so I can indulge in at least two of them on the weekend.  I tell you its worse then when I used to smoke years ago...  Yup for real, my weakness is cake and cupcakes are itty bitty cakes.  I'm so screwed!


I am not sure I have ever blogged about my love of trains.  Well I love trains.  My Grandfather loved trains enough to have the HO set up right down to the grain cars at the Mill getting loaded with real grain. Not to mention real smoke coming out of the old engines.  What's my point?  The window in my office where I am typing this is a mere umpteen feet from the tracks where I get to hear the whistle and roar of the wheels a couple times a day. Add to that the view of the old train station is within a stones throw. It is all good and very peaceful.

Also, The famous POLAR EXPRESS happens about a mile from me here in Middleton.  You can board a train, go for a ride with the kiddos, receive Santa, Elves, and treats in a festive atmosphere.

I walked to downtown Old Middleton today which is a whole block away. Stopped at the local florist whose owner is Tiffany.  She also does Interior Designing.  She talked to me like I was her family. Gave me a rose on my way out when she learned I was new to town, not to mention lived in her back yard.

And then it was onto the Middleton Dress Shop.  And then to another...where the owner took the time to show me how to "DO" these new neck scarves the size of Alaska.  I think I will need to buy some of them soon.  I like them more now that I have the knowledge of how to wrap 'em.


Had some errands that took me to Middleton Ace Hardware, ALIAS: Wolfe Kubly and Hursig:  My Lord you can do some serious shopping there.  Also noticed a Community Pharmacy in the same strip mall where I just might be able to get some lactose free medicine! And a place called SAVVY.  They sell gently used furniture and clothing.  Fun place.

The most up to date (I prefer the old-town) shopping is at Greenway Station.  So many shops. Anything you need you can find except groceries. I did find a creative key hanger...  But I left behind something I have always wanted since mine broke as a kid.... A HUGE PINK PIGGY BANK....I may go back and get it.  Screw appropriate age issue.  I had it in my cart when I suddenly felt stupid...so I put it back. Ding Ding Ding wrong thought!


Did I mention they have a special little restaurant for Italian food, a special one for pizza, and a couple of little bars for the locals. Not that I would frequent.  Well I might.

What's my point?  I have to say I have never lived or experienced such kindness, such reaching out, such friendliness...such PEACE anywhere ever in my life.  I am home.

Oh, I forgot to mention.  My Grandma and Grandpa Jungbluth are buried at St. Luke's Cemetery less then a mile from my place.  And, my ancestors from Germany settled  here in the 1800's.  Half the family went to Nebraska and the other half right here in good old Middleton, Wisconsin. In fact my landlord has done business and is acquainted with my first cousin and my Father's God son, Richard Hinricks.  Imagine that!


Soo....  I am here to stay for  awhile.  I love it. I am at home.  I am at peace. I am happy.  I am Thankful. Now all I need is about a Million Dollars.

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Meghan Kelly, Gretchen Carlson and Me..... By Diane Ogden

Sexual harassment is as old as time.   It moves swiftly unnoticed and is also as quiet as time.  You don't have to be beautiful to have it happen to you.  Although it happens more if you are. Sexual harassment or abuse began for me at age fifteen in my doctors office by my doctor himself.  No names.  And his harassment continued and or returned when I was in my early twenties.  Also, a local High School Principle.  A Jr. High History teacher. And most of the boys in school....and  Date raped later in teen years.  Who does a girl learn to trust regarding men?  Hit on by my bosses, (give (someone) orders in a domineering manner. A person in charge)  most of my life.  Cornered in elevators, cars, planes, boats, elevators, bars, movie theaters, under a tree at night by the groundskeeper.  And the list goes on.  And on.  With age, a lot of "aging".... I learned how to curb it, how to escape it, how to hit it head on, and how to live with it and through it.
                                                              (In this photo I was 14 or 15 years old)

Sexual harassment is someone exercising unwanted verbally controlling comments and or actions  over another.  In this blogpost, Me.   Some (usually men) would say we women put ourselves in situations that asked for such behavior. Or we wear/wore clothing that says it okay to be sexually harassed or abused.  Bullshit for the most part anyway.  Maybe some women do but most do not.  I was basically a child with no idea how to deal with such a strong force of nature: hormonal men. Was that love? Well, that was my initial meeting with the opposite sex now wasn't it.  And shame on them. A doctor, a H.S. Principle,(not the principle where I went to school) and a history teacher, the dentist, the leader of the band, the fire chief (Not from my home town)!!  In watching the news this week and Meghan Kelly on Dr. Phil.....And Gretchen Carlson on 20/20... GOD I was just a child compared to their stories.  Meghan Kelly was a strong woman in a strong position, yet she couldn't and didn't handle it properly.... or was afraid to.  Look at all the women, try like 50!! That Dr. Huxtable, alias, Bill Cosby crossed the line with!!  And he is getting away with it.  Then there is Trump the hump....and so on and so on.  All the way back to Thomas Jefferson and Bill Clinton.  Under the desk with a rubber hose...NO NO that was John Travolta and Kotter!  What was I thinking?  We all know what I was thinking..... Cigars and blow jobs in the Oval Office.

I tried to teach my daughter and Granddaughters that men need a home for "hairy."  Most will say and do anything to get that home for "Hairy!"  I have also taught them that every time they hear the roar of a Harley.....it is a man straddling a woman (his Harley) legs spread, sitting in a power position, revving the engine like it is the orgasm he dreams of... Loud and engaging and all powerful.  All the things he probably is not in true life.

I have also taught them about the other man.  The good man.  He may have a gay side....which simply means he remembers flowers, compliments, is able to think partially like a woman to an acceptable degree...  He understands her feelings, her decorating issues, her magazines.... and many of her why's and needs. He isn't ALL MALE testosterone...  Rather he cares, loves, feels what she feels more than most men and most of all if he doesn't he pretends to as he smiles and holds her tenderly.  The farther-est thing from sexual harassment on earth.

I wasn't taught that, but then most little girls from the baby boomer generation were not taught that. We were to cook, clean, love our husbands no matter what, tend the children, and clean the house and do the laundry and do not complain no matter what.  Then suddenly we were thrown into the work force where men ruled.  They thought they ruled us, and they did for many decades.  In fact those old cronies haven't all died off yet.  Nor have their old thoughts and ways. 

Do not let me leave out the religious freaks.  The ones that believe the man rules the roost.  Whether he has he sense to or not.  They used God.  Some, no most of those thought that gave them the right and freedom to do whatever they chose to their wives or women.  When the woman went crazy during menopause they would pray and that is all they would do!!  My least favorite of all men..... God would never treat his women followers as those religious husbands did and do.

My Point:  I have been sexually harassed all my life.  IT feels Unclean. Wrong.  Dirty.  Outofline. Ungodly. Intrusive. Overbearing. Controlling.  Abusive.  Ill- legal. Disgusting. Unhealthy. Frightening. And at my adult age now....Pissed off!!!  Why do they continue to get away with it....  ??

I have more I could share from my life experiences of sexual harassment  but it isn't necessary....  Too scary to share as our society tends to have become more gladiator type arena's then I could ever have imagined.  I don't wish to be stoned or put in the arena with a lions.  I have already experienced that with men...

Not that I have never met a few good ones.  I have.  Those are the ones that don't touch rather they FEEL with their hearts.  Girls.... watch for those men.  The Good Men with their heart and their head and their penis as one!!  Few and far between but they are out there.




Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Happy Birthday to MWAH!! by Diane Ogden

As we get older birthdays should be celebrated with "Huge-er" parties verses lessor.  Huge-er because we are still upright and not ashes or six foot under.  Thus the older the bigger. Parties that is.  But that is not the way it goes is it?   We tend to try to forget we are getting older and brush the day aside.  Not me....I am so darn thankful to be here in this mess of a world at present.  Messes are made to clean up and it will clean up again.  You see, nearly every day I pass the Regent Street Cemetery and the Cress Funeral Home where two are being buried and one is being dug for!   Sure makes me thankful no matter what.  Once I'm on the other side (you know dead) I cant eat watermelon or cake anymore.  And I bet I will still want to.  I will look at God with that bit of a "stink eye" and he will look back at me with a bit of a forgiving "stink eye," and say:
You had your chance!  And behind his words I would spiritually read his mind....it would be telling me I had had my chance at many a thing and I blew some of them.  Sooo.....  I have decided not to do that anymore.
Go for the gusto.  No not beer......the gusto of life.  Laugh.  Live.  Love.  But don't charge too much on your credit card to get those things done.

Most of my family, the ones I like anyway, have moved far away.  They left me the leftovers no one wants to deal with!  But again, I am upright and thankful. As well as I steer clear of the "leftover" relatives.

What's my point?  I'll tell you what it is.  It is opening an envelope today at one of my long time clients homes and finding a little card all sealed up tight with my name on the front.  Sometimes that is awkward for me as I am usually the giver and have had to learn in life to receive better.  This was one of those times I felt like I was in a classroom life session.  I wanted to tuck it away and open it later but I knew I shouldn't do that.  So I didn't.  I opened it with a vengeance....like a child on Christmas morning.  A present!  For me!  All I usually get are four or five phone calls from afar saying Happy Birthday Mom. (Don't misunderstand me, I love those calls!)  But this was a real tangible happening right in front of my face.  Isn't this the sweetest ever surprise.  It touched my heart in a way sometimes earthly words aren't enough.  And I wanted to share......
  Diane Jungbluth- Ogden  born 11-22-47  and still thankful for everyday I am given....Its a GIFT!
              Present day is a Present.  I am blessed and so are you if you are reading this!!!

"Major"

It was 1985 give or take a year.  We were a normal family as far as that word goes.  One Father, one Mother, and four boys.  Actually five considering husbands are, more often then not one more kid to care for most of the time.  And this summer was one of those times.  He had lost his job and our beautiful family dog was chasing the UPS man daily.  Obviously we had no fence and the 5th child was not overseeing the situation very well.  Do realize the date....1985 meaning he was not a mature adult yet. Okay we have been divorced for 32 years if my math did that correctly. But lest ye know I have never forgotten what he did that summer.  He gave our dog away.  I wont elaborate because it wouldn't be nice at all.  When I finally tracked down the people he gave  our dog Major to.....they have given him away again.  I thought I would die emotionally.  We had our family photo's taken with that dog.  And it never left my heart all these years.


And then I met Grendel, who resembled Major.  We became instant buddies and the year was 2007.  He belonged to a client of mine. We would play ball, and I would brush him every other Friday.  I'd wash his stainless steel bowls as if they were my finest china.  I think it may have relieved my own guilt more than anything.  Although Grendel loved me and I him.  He would climb in the back seat of my vehicle if I left the door open too long.  And always run out of the house to greet me when I arrived.  Surely not because I always brought a treat.  In the picture below I am trying to get him to pose for a photo for the back of my business card.... Obviously it wasn't working but we sure had fun.


As the years past he grew weaker as we all do.  Now when I arrived he would get too excited and lose control of his rear section.  His rear section would go down almost doing the splits.  My helper and I would have to lift him up and steady him for a bit before letting him go on his own.  He couldn't play ball anymore and brushing him seemed to hurt somehow so that was out.

On days I was scheduled to be at there home his owner would always text me and let me know if he was not going to be there so I wouldn't worry.  I always said he was my Major reincarnated.  Even though I pretty much knew he wasn't.  Sort of my own private Disney fantasy.  God I always and still do cry at Lady and The Tramp.

So the last time I was there Old Grendel, age 15 was on the floor and couldn't get up.  The vet said this was probably it but the owners decided to wait one more day.   He couldn't even go to the bathroom on his own.  We had to put a sling around his belly and lift/walk his back legs for him.  I sat with him on the floor and discussed some of life and a lot of love.  He let me.  We used to sit out back on the deck (see pics) in total silence and listen to the beautiful sounds of nature.  Life.  I was and am so thankful to have known Grendel.  He and Major were my best friends ever. Wait, there was Barney dog, and Daisy, and Gracie Allen too.   Below was his last day on earth....



On my next scheduled visit to my client I found a card on the counter with beautiful words for
me..... It read:  " Thank you for all your love and support with our sweet old boy the last years."  Along with a $50.00 bill.  Which wasn't necessary but such a nice gesture of love, almost as if it were from Grendel himself.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Ghosts of The Last Arboretum Farm..... by Diane Ogden

I was six years old riding in the back seat of my Dad's 1948 Chevrolet, no seat belts.  It was the longest driveway in the history of my world.  I had traveled that long driveway many times in my little life.  It was a turn right off the old Highway known now as the belt line at Todd Drive.  Arbor Hills holds the ghosts of the last old farm Bowman Dairy owned and where my Grandpa and Grandma Jungbluth lived and worked.  They milked for the dairy.  I also recall "Pa," the name he was known by, had two big workhorses he plowed the fields with.  Dark blue coveralls holding and steering a heavy metal plow behind those huge blonde work horses. And in my Grandma's eyes I could do no wrong. And then one day we moved away.  I was 7 and I never saw her again.  But I never forgot her ever.

We came back to Wisconsin for a vacation and drove over to the old farm up the long driveway to the place I remembered as my Grandparents farm.  It was deserted.  We walked over to the barn where tools lay strewn about in pieces of straw.  Above on makeshift poor man's hooks hung bridles and rope.  An old barrel, a pitchfork.  It was like time stood still and at any moment Pa would saunter in with his unshaven face, chew under his lip, and a half cocked smile always.  But he didn't walk in.

 On our way walking around the barn I stopped "dead."  There in the grass was my "Pa's" boot.  His boot he used to pull on every day to do chores and live his life.  It was empty but it was so ghostly touching for all of us.  My Dad's eyes watered up but he continued walking. He did not pick up the boot nor take it with us.  Me, being overly sentimental would have taken the darn thing home for some godly or ungodly reason.  Put a plant in it or something!!

Today I went on a business call to give an upcoming client an estimate.  My GPS took me into Arbor Hills exactly where my Grandpa's farm had been.  Where the outhouse sat 15 feet from the RR tracks and shook like the dickens when it passed. Not the outhouse, the train.  I recall! I had no idea this is where my possible new client lived until I turned off the frontage road Todd Drive.  My eyes started scanning the area.  Where is the long road?  Where are the RR tracks?  Who lives on the land I used to love and be loved at?

I pulled into her driveway and knocked.  We introduced ourselves and I couldn't contain myself a second longer....I asked if there was a RR track close by.  That my Grandparents lived on an old farm at the edge of the Arboretum and I think it is very close to right here.  She said yes.  The old RR tracks were removed a couple years ago and replaced with a paved bike trail.  She then told me a story her neighbor had shared with her about an old farm up in the woods with a very long driveway...where she had attended a couple parties in the past.  Seems a single man lived there for a time.  Why I could hardly believe my ears were hearing this.  I had walked into my past and was eager to hear more.  She told me she would get me in touch with her neighbor soon. Not soon enough I thought.  Even though it had been 50 some years since I last saw it, I was suddenly impatient.

Not only was this a time capsule moment but let me add her home was out of this world amazing.  Right out of Odana Road Antique Shop.  Everything used and from the earth.  It was not dusty, rusty, and old. Rather it carried an air of creative class along with a huge Bison rug in the family room.  They order bison meat and the coat comes with it. Don't ask!  All I know is I have to have one considering my maternal Grandfather had the first Bison Ranch in Texas.  I was getting all my time capsule bases met in one day... This one.

I walked out of her home telling her how special it had been for me to have met her and her home.  She responded likewise.  We exchanged facebook information and hope to talk again soon.  She gave me directions to the entrance of the conservatory where the RR tracks were and where I might find a Hawk feather like the two she found and displayed in her home.  I had told her after my Father passed away he came to me in a dream  as a beautiful Red Tailed Hawk....  Strong dream.  Since then I have wanted a Hawk feather.  I believe I will find it soon on the trail of he and his fathers old farm.

Monday, November 14, 2016

Dear Diane

Dear Diane,
I am you. The part of you that makes decisions. The other part of you that has to live with those decisions as well. And also gets to feel how they affect you, good or bad.  I do want you to know I try very hard to get it right because feeling what you feel when it doesn't turn out as I expected is no picnic for me either sister.  You always joke and cover my side by saying you have eyes in your "ass" because you cant see anything until its passed...  Thank you but it is the truth.  Sometimes I cant see it and when I do I think I can make it all good as your license plate reads:  "ALSWELL!"  Even when it is not.  I never like letting your down. I watch you work hard to cover up the flaws I sometimes create in your life.  And then I watch you make everything okay for everyone around you.  I have made decisions that have affected your life in a negative fashion more than once and I am not talking about hip high red boots obviously not age appropriate.... no, I want to tell you how proud I am of you for taking my ishie decisions and turning them around for good or at least dealing with them until they fade into the abyss.  You and I have a fairly large file cabinet of errors in the Abyss State. That is if the Abyss is a State or Country or maybe just another planet in the universe where we get to file (dump) our waste.  Waste of time, waste of energy, waste of spirit, WASTE as in manure.  Worse.  Manure is spread on the earth to help grow vegetation. In our case, "Human Weeds."  No good to no one.  Our manure is spread to hurt us and that is why we send it to the planet of Abyss to contain it.  We must keep our eyes open as there are always new crops around us with manure making there way to us.  I can only pray you have not lost faith in this part of yourself.  ME! No not the manure part....the YOU part.  The ME part.  Everyone has a me inside them that messes up and the older we get the more mess ups we have put forth into our own private Universe. Not to mention the spillovers onto others Universe's.  I am here today to tell you maybe it is time you and I took better care of you.  (Each other) I like you Diane.  And I only want the best for you. Allow me to apologize for any decisions I have made that have hurt you or those around you.  And allow me to thank you for working so diligently with me in this life.  I know I haven't led you to a winning lotto ticket, rather you have found your own way to work overtime instead. Nor have I prized you with the best partner as has been obvious to all.  I have had to take into consideration that on your side of this duo is a woman who life goal is to take care of others.  You are the epitome of a giving loving heart. I have watched you throw yourself into a deep well more than once to save someone rather then throwing them a rope or a buoy.  The good book says to love they neighbor as thyself.  I believe you love yourself in spite of my sometimes incorrect decision making processing in our/your book of life.   You save plants, children, elderly folks, animals, and sometimes others that have more needs then you have to offer.  In fact at times your energy gets drained and that hurts me and you.  So maybe its time we get together, you know, heart and head all in one place all at the same time... I have learned through you that is the proper way to make healthy decisions.  Not one way or the other alone. Not just me or just you alone.   That is like a pizza with no cheese. Or a hamburger with no meat. Somethings turns out missing and leaves a bad or off taste in the pallet.  Another example is an unfinished painting. A car with three wheels.. A massage with no masseuse. A lover with no heart.  People around you with harsh words.
So from this day on you and I are going to work much closer.  And with your sense of humor, reserved and loving heart, and my brains, we can go far sister.  Get your roller skates on its time to move this happy healthy couple of us who have now meshed into one glorious human being. Mwah!
God I love you.  Why thank you. Nice outfit too.  Love Diane


Tuesday, October 11, 2016

"Son of a Grass Cutter"

Soooo.  I was at the cemetery today sittin' on Mary.  My 6th cousin who passed away at Verona's classy Badger Prairie Mental Asylum in 1918.  She had a child out of wedlock in the 1800's which led to her "Father" taking her child away.   She fell into depression at which time he placed her in Madison's Mendota Mental Hospital...later she was moved to Badger Prairie where she lived out her life.

Today I needed to find a quiet place to do some serious life thinking.  I considered the zoo.....then I decided on the Forest Hill Cemetery and Mary.  I stopped at Metcalf's grocery and bought Mary a rose.  I debated on what color....  That is when I spotted the Melon colored one....that was it without any doubt.  Then I passed a barrel of sample wine bottles... Yup I also grabbed one of those for Mary too.  Bet she never tasted wine in her life.  I was toting my own lunch bag, a rose, a camera, map of the cemetery, a small bottle of wine, and a milk crate to sit on which I did not use due to unleveled ground.



I parked and headed for the plot in area 22 with a plain flat stone saying,  MARY JUNGBLUTH.
That is when I heard two horrendous motors starting.....and running directly for MARY JUNGBLUTH. and me.  Two huge yellow mowers disturbing my peace to say the least.  Not to mention the smell of fresh cut grass which is usually sort of nice but not this time.  Nope, I suspected I would have a lung full of green suet by the time this was over.  As I sat on Mary's stone with my large lunch bag on one side, the milk crate on the other, the rose, the wine, the map and the camera....I thought they would GO AWAY seeing I was a grieving cousin.  Well they did not.  They mowed up to 8 feet from Mary and me.


Had I been a more gutsy and creative today I would have started wailing and screaming in deep grief.  Maybe then they would have left us in peace and moved to another section.  I just sat there saying, "Jesus Crisis anyway."  Maybe the zoo would have been a better  option.  And if those two men on their boy toys throw one stick at me I will sue the sheit out of this place.  They "got" no manners.  Those sons of a grass cutters mother!

I cant eat my lunch. My nose if full of flying green pieces....and my ears are buzzing.  They have headphones on for noise reduction.  Notice no one was handing them out to me.  I came here to hear from the dead regarding my life direction which is bigger then grass cutting.

Finally the rude jerks left but not far enough.  They left their ripe grass odor clearly behind with me.  Terribly rude. 

I placed the rose on Mary's home knowing she probably never got a flower in her entire life.  I also knew the grass eaters would be back because they did leave a 5 foot patch directly at my and Mary's feet.  I just knew they and their yellow machines would blow her rose away.. They were now mowing in the next section but still very loud and intrusive.   I decided to say goodbye to Mary considering I couldn't hear her advice and mosey on down the way..  I stopped and watched the mower man come back and mow right up to Mary's neck.  The rose didn't move...  I knew Mary was hanging onto it!!


I decided to sit on the cement wall up the way from Mary, surrounding the Civil War boys.   I had my lunch, toasted the boys with Mary's sample wine, took some pictures of them and heard what I needed to hear.  Whether you believe me or not.  Doesn't matter. 

I asked them to show me a sign.  I took this photo and as you can see I got what I asked for.....
So.... when I find more Happy News I will be back.  Be well, Be Happy, Be Safe, and get Rich.  Makes it all easier.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Banana Bread II

I have not been writing on this blog for a long time..... I had taken a photo of the slimey banana snot...
Then I forgot to post it!!   Duh.
Here she is snotty nanas and all:


Sunday, July 10, 2016

Banana Bread?..............by Diane Ogden

Making banana bread has been a lifelong struggle for me.  Mostly because I gave up trying 45 years ago.  Lately I took on the  dreaded task of re trying.  Too dry, too moist, raw in the middle was the worst and finally I forgot the sugar once.  I haven't given up.  In fact for the raw middle I tried less banana so we didn't feel like we were eating snot.  You know that oatmeally texture eewww.    Raw banana bread in the center...so I Googled what to do.   It said less banana... I tried that and lost the flavor so I stopped at the Organic section of the grocery store and banana flavoring was $8.50 for a small bottle!!  I don't think so.  The next week I checked at my regular grocer and found the standard "McCormick" banana flavoring for $3.50.  Tennie bottle.  I read the ingredients of which were all ARTIFICIAL and bought it anyway. Next time I attempted to make banana bread I used the BRIGHT YELLOW ARTIFICIAL banana flavoring.  OMG is all I can say.  I cannot believe I used that crap...... much less we ate it.  Not to mention it brought back childhood memories of eating those soft banana candies at Aunt Berdie's house.  Ewwww!!
Well.....believe it or not it turned out pretty good.  A little dry.  So this week I tried it again.  I had frozen the banana's because I was sick of trying to make good banana bread. I even considered possibly never doing it again for 45 years.  But just in case I did, I froze those black buggers.  I played busy until they thawed.  Cut the ends off with a scissors and as I attempted to peel the ripe "thang" inside the black peeling. As I peeled, it ever so slowly slid down and out the other end as it folded itself in half all limpy like. (is that a word?) I tell you the truth it looked like I had murdered a living thing or at the least was viewing the birth of something sick and wrong and was going to eat it as well.  The only word that came to my mind was cannibalism.  My significant other was watching the entire show.  I looked up from the massacre only to see his face all scrunched.  He seemed to be sensing my same thoughts.
It was at that exact moment he rose from his stool and exited the room leaving me with the dead and dying.  I gagged a few times as I "folded" the snotty mixture into the bowl of good sugar and eggs.  I could hear  him in the background laughing or maybe he was crying as he realized we are too new a relationship for him to say no to the dead bread. 

I hit the timer and went about some better business such as changing  bedding and eating red ARTIFICIALLY sweetened strawberry twizzlers.  Cant believe I eat those dang things considering they use beetles to color them.  I am not lying.  Its called Carmine (/ˈkɑːrmɪn/ or /ˈkɑːrmn/), also called cochineal, cochineal extract, crimson lake or carmine lake, natural red 4,[1] C.I. 75470,[1] or E120.  See I told you!  Gag away...

     So the results are good.  Well, half good.  One is great the other might be a little snotty in the middle.  I wont give up.  But I will buy the organic flavoring no matter the cost next time.
Until then, be safe, be well, and get rich.  You can buy organic banana bread at $12 a loaf.




Wednesday, June 22, 2016

"Nightlights?"

Nightlights?........

It had been a very special day between my love and myself.  We spent a good portion of time that day walking along the rivers edge .  The sounds of nature had taken us away from the normal daily routine of cars honking, red lights, politics, and of course our jobs.  Somehow the earthly voice of a bird singing can compare only to the Angels we do not get to visualize.  And so it was that day we had regained a certain amount of peace amongst the living. 

We did the usual Jose and lime juice around 4 p.m.  Turned on the television only to turn it back off considering it was the new Jerry Springer now called Dr. Phil.  A young woman gang raped.  Her on one side of old Phil and the gang raper's on he other.  My guy hit the off button as I prepared dinner.

Then it was whirlpool time.  We are old-timer's, no not Alzheimer's.  Our bodies hurt on occasion.  Me with RLS and he with rotator cuff tear and upcoming surgery.  Neither able to sleep very well lately. I was filling the whirlpool with lavender Epsom salts when my significant other asked if I mind if he joined me.  Of course I didn't mind.  Once again we enjoyed a peaceful hour of roaring healing water rushing his shoulder and my legs.  I actually slept well after the Epsom's cleansed my body.  He on the other hand requires a more extensive fix.  An Operation. 

We watched one more show on the television considering we just got about a thousand Cable channels totally by accident along with a totally outrageous bill on purpose.  That took me an hour on the phone to straighten out.  But then we all know what Charter is like.

Finally time came to sleep.  It was dark with a ting of light from the parking lot cascading through the mini blinds of our third floor notsomuch a penthouse. We were cuddling, talking about this and that when I noticed a tiny light on the ceiling.   I didn't say anything to my guy, but I was mesmerized and continued to watch.  It would appear and disappear.  It moved over to the edge of the ceiling light.  Then to another spot.  It was then I swore to God and all his Angels and Mother that I saw a white ghostlike figure move in the hallway by the bathroom.  It was at that precise moment I decided to share the fear running up and down my body with my guy.  Not to mention my brain knowing for sure there was either an entity in the room or heavenly hosts.  I was not sure which.  My guy wrapped his arms around me as though he could ward off demons from other dimensions and I shrunk in his arms as though I believed he could. 

I started to pray.   I used the God given mad mother voice I hadn't heard from my larnyx in about 28 years or so....  I guess I suspected those alien visitors would respond.  I used the name of Jesus.  I used spirit talk, I bound and loosed.  They didn't leave.  We recited the Lords Prayer in unison like two scared little kids  in catechism class.  Or the Lutheran class I graduated from which was not offering up any sort of assistance in this case. Confirmation classes had taught me the benediction, some of the Psalms, the beatitudes and so on.  Not helping in the here and now of it all Pastor! 

Suddenly I said, "Is there a smoke alarm up in that area of the ceiling?"  My guy leaped from our duo fetal position, hit the bedroom light and whalla.  A tiny green light appeared ever so sweet and only now and then.  It then reflected off the ceiling light and other areas that even now as I write I do not understand. Nor do I "get" where the ghostly figure ran off to.  But then I still swear when I was five I saw Santa and ALL his reindeer one Christmas Eve out my bedroom window.  I mean it too!

We were very sad there were no Heavenly visitors to our bedroom that night.  You see when the little light didn't leave upon command of our God.....well that meant they were the good guys.  Almost wish I hadn't found the reality of it all.  We could all use a sign from the heavens now and then.....