Queasy

I get really weird anxiety about really weird things.  One of those things is the grocery store self-checkout line.  I typically don’t choose this line.  Sunday I had to make a run to the store...I quickly realized it was the same day every one else had to make the same quick run to the store.  The lines were wicked long, and you know how impatient I am.  I decided to challenge my anxiety issues and try the self-checkout.  I wait patiently for my turn.  I have about 20 items total, so when it is my turn, I start.  I scan and drop on the belt, scan and drop.  I am halfway through my groceries when it tells me I need to go bag what I have because the belt is too full to continue.  This has never happened to me before.  So do I leave my purse and run to the end of the conveyor belt?  There are people waiting behind me.  I panic.  I quickly stop scanning (only because it won’t let me go further) and run and bag some of the groceries.  Where do I put them? My cart still has stuff in it, and there isn’t a place to set the groceries I have already scanned.  Stupid technology.  Stupid grocery store.  I keep glancing at my cart watching my purse closely, prepared to tackle the 79 year old woman standing next in line.  Knowing old people can be thief's too, I am in full panic mode throwing all groceries in one bag.  I lift the bag to set it on the floor.  Of course.  The bottom rips.  My groceries come crashing to the floor.  Awesome.  Freaking awesome.  Of course.  Damn this stupid line.  I KNEW this was going to be too much for me to handle.  There is a reason God puts grocery baggers on this planet.  They know how to do this crazy complicated job.  I don’t...clearly.  I half debate grabbing my purse and making a mad dash for the door.  I must be strong.  I quickly scramble to pick up my cereal and eight cans that I shoved in one bag.  I re-bag them, not taking my eye off my purse.  I leave them on the floor and run back to the line to scan the rest of my things.  Awesome.  My screen is blinking: Wait for cashier assistance.  Never.  Again.  I wait for her to come over and push some buttons.  I finish scanning my things trying to hold my tears back as my line multiplies by the minute.  I pay and rush to the end of the belt to load the rest of my things.  Screw the bag.  I throw the rest of my stuff in the cart and run to the door.  I take a deep breath as I reach my car.  This is why I don’t cook.  I can’t handle self-checkout...it makes me feel queasy.  My new excuse, Chief.  I just can’t handle the stress of getting food at the store.  It is much easier to pull into a restaurant.  Love you, Babe.  

Porta Potty

Like most people...if I have to pee, and a porta potty is the only option, I all of a sudden can hold it much longer.  I have stepped into a porta potty less than five times in my entire lifetime.  One of those was less than a year ago.  I can’t remember where we were, I do however, remember that it wasn’t an option.  I had 18 gallons of pressure bouncing up and down on my bladder.  I had no choice.  I had to go.  I waited patiently in the line of desperate faces.  The anticipation was killing me.  I was trying to keep a positive mind.  This was going to be an adventure.  I could do this.  I could make friends with the flies and persuade the spiders to keep their distance because I was willing to bite back.  My turn came.

I approached the door, closed my eyes and walked in.  I was taken back at how different they were than how I remembered them.  I looked around and didn’t see any spiders or flies.  This wasn’t going to be so bad!  I noticed a little shelf for my purse and set it down...how nice.  I finished, used the antibacterial soap and made my way out.  I went and found Chief and gushed about how nice they were!

Me: Babe!  That was the nicest porta potty I have ever seen!

Chief: Really?

Me: Yeah!  It was clean and it didn’t smell bad at all!!

Chief: Wow! Well I am happy you were impressed.

Me: It even had a purse holder!

Chief: What?

Me: They had a little shelf for my purse!

Chief: The shelf on the left?

Me: Yep.  They are getting really fancy.  Those must be designed by women.

Chief: Or men.

Me: No way, men aren’t that considerate.

Chief: They think of themselves.

Me: Exactly. 

Chief: Which is how I know it was designed by a man.

Me: A man would not put a purse holder in a bathroom.

Chief: No, but they would put a urinal in there.

Me: Hugh?

Chief: Your purse holder, is a urinal.

Me: No, it was definitely a purse holder. 

Chief: Purse holders don’t have a hole in the bottom of them.

Me: Please tell me you are kidding.  It was too low to be a urinal.

Chief: Not everyone is six feet tall.

Me: No way.

Chief: You stuck your purse in a urinal.

Me: No way.

Chief: No, I am just kidding.

Me: Really?

Chief: No, I am totally serious.

Me: OMG! That is freaking disgusting!

Chief: How the hell did you not know that?

Me: I don’t know, I don’t spend a lot of time in those! Why do they need their own place to pee!  They have a freaking huge hole to pee in!!

Chief: Then you will have urine on the seats when the men don’t lift them.

Me: I’m gonna barf.

Chief: Make sure you set your purse on the shelf when you do, so it is out of your way.

Me: Stop talking.

Ouch!

Male Student #1: Mrs. J, what is an anagram?

Male Student #2: Dude, that is when they smash a woman’s boob like a pancake to check for cancer.

Female Student: THAT’S A MAMMOGRAM NOT AN ANAGRAM YOU DOOF!!

Male Student #2: Oh, sorry.  I bet an anagram is a lot less painful...

  

Male Student #1: I’m so glad I don’t have boobs.  

Me: Aren’t we all.

Male Student #1: So what is it?

Me: It is when you rearrange letters of your word to make a new word.  Act.  Act can be rearranged to cat.  You have to use all of your original letters.  It's a type of word play. Pea.  What can pea be?....Ape.  Looped...what can looped also be?....Poodle!  Do you understand?

Male Student #2: I take back what I said, anagrams sound more painful.

Name Brand

There are certain things that you don’t go cheap-o on.  I think in some areas, you MUST by the name brand.  

1. Cereal.  When you want Cheerios don’t buy Joe-Os.  Here’s the deal.  Joe doesn’t care about you.  When you eat Joe, you eat crow.
2. Mac & Cheese.  Kraft is the only way to go...the other stuff is disgusting.  Yes, I have tried it.  Kraft is one of our main meals.  Kraft is what I cook best.  Sad...but true.
3. Water.  Water is very tricky for me.  I refuse to buy the store brand water.  To me, it taste like it was dug out of the ground.  I just can’t do it.  If I had a choice, I would choose Smart Water.  I think it is the most wonderful tasting water.  It almost taste sweet to me.
4. Underwear.  You MUST not buy underwear from the dollar store.  It doesn’t work.  The elastic doesn’t last.  Learned lesson...another blog at a later date.
5. Diapers.  One small package when Little Man was six months. Never. Again. Poop on walls, poop on floors, poop on the crib.  Poop poop everywhere, poop poop in his hair!! On the ceiling on the floor.  Generic diapers are no more!
6. Cleaning products.  I don’t cook.  I do clean.  Cleaning products is one thing I DO NOT go generic on.  There is a reason Lysol, Clorox, Pledge, and Swiffer have made a name for themselves.  They are good and they work.  They smell wonderful, and it makes me feel a sense of accomplishment. 

Things that don’t matter if you have generic or brand?

1. Canned foods.  They all taste the same to me.
2. Ummm...that’s it.

Okay, I am a snob.

Mail

How nice is it getting mail?  I don’t mean email, or junk mail...I mean REAL mail.  It isn’t very often that I get something in my mail that has my name handwritten across the envelope.  My heart STILL skips a beat when something is for me.  

Why is it that getting mail makes people feel good?  The day before Mother’s Day, I got a box with my name on it!!  Chief said he didn’t order anything for me, so the box was a mystery.  It didn’t have a return address on it, but it still looked legit.  I took my time opening it, trying to savor every second of anticipation.  There it was...a cookie bouquet from Blond BFF.  I was so excited!

It takes time out of your day to sit and handwrite a note to a friend...I realize that, which is why I don’t do it that often.  I think I do it more than your average bear, but I still don’t do it as much as I should.  It is much easier to shoot someone an email, but it is also less personal.  Back to the Thank You notes, they are important.  It is important to convey the message that you are humble and greatful.  This world doesn’t have a lot of kindness, so the kindness it does have needs to be recognized.  You need to be appreciative and make sure they know that you know their kind gesture is appreciated.  

I challenge you to sit down and handwrite four short letters to people (you have until Friday).  Stick a stamp on them, and mail them (in the little box at the end of your driveway).  Your letter doesn’t have to be about anything in particular, it just needs to be a letter.  Write and tell someone how much you appreciate their friendship...or you can tell them about a funny memory you had of them.  It doesn’t have to be important because I assure you, the fact that you took the time will be enough appreciated.  I know I am not the only one who likes to get mail.  Make someone else’s day.  Make FOUR people’s day.

Love her...

Today is a special day.  A special day directed towards a certain group of people...mothers.  Being a mother is a job for only a certain group of people.    Anyone can be a parent, but it takes a special person to be a mother.  A mother puts her children before herself.  She sacrifices things she may want so her children can have more than what she had.  

My mother is an amazing woman.  She raised two girls to be successful loving women.  In this day, that isn’t as easy as it sounds.  My mother worked just a little harder so that I could go to a private school.  When I came home from my first day of high school, I told her I couldn’t do it.  I told her I didn’t want to go back.  I told her in my math class there was a girl that was eight months pregnant.  I told her that the boy that sat next to me in science had gages in his ears and he pulled down his pants and mooned the teacher in the first ten minutes of class.  You know what my mom did?  She put me into a private school.  She didn’t make me go back to that public school.  She worked a little harder so that I could be in a school that I felt safe in.  She taught me that I didn’t need to conform to something I didn’t believe in.

My mom also started me in piano lessons.  It was something I begged her to do, and she finally agreed.  And when I wanted to quit?  She wouldn’t let me.  She didn’t want me to quit something because she knew it was something I would regret quitting.  She taught me that it was important to follow through with something I started.  She taught me to reach, not to quit.

My mom always packed my lunch.  When other kids had twinkies and chips, I had apples and carrots.  I would try each day to convince other kids to trade...that was quite the challenge.  I usually ended up eating my carrots and apples.  She taught me my health was important.  

My mom always made me sit down after receiving a gift, and write a Thank You Letter.  I hated doing this.  I thought it was time consuming and figured the gift giver wouldn’t care either way.  I did as I was told, because that is how I was raised.  She taught me to be a grateful, respectful woman.

My mom worked hard every day.  She got up and went to work, came home and fixed our family dinner, did the laundry, and still had time to love us.  She never missed work.  Never lost her job.  She never came home and said she was too tired to help me with my homework.  She taught me responsibility and work ethic.

My mom held my hand through three of my four births.  She brushed my hair off my face as I cried out with pain shooting through my body.  She looked me in the eyes and told me how proud I was making her.  She told me that I could do this.  I was strong, and I wasn’t going to quit.  I knew she was right.  I trusted her.  If she thought I could do it, then I could.  She taught me strength.

She took me to church at a very young age.  She made sure I was involved in the youth group and paid for me to go to camps to help others.  When I needed help she directed me to the bible.  She told me to pray harder and ask Him for guidance.  She taught me to love the Lord and trust that His plan is the right plan.

My mom gave her time and love to others.  She taught Sunday school for years.  At Christmas she was generous to those in need.  She welcomed and loved my friends.  She helped others who looked to her for advice.  My mother taught me compassion.

My mother is straight as an arrow.  She never abused drugs, never abused alcohol, and always did what was right.  She loved her girls, and would do anything for us.  She held me when I cried, and encouraged me when I was falling.  She sings hard and laughs lovingly.  She keeps her mind healthy and her heart happy.  She taught me love, strength, compassion, responsibility, and respect.  She is a mother.  She is MY mother.   

K for BFFs

It is hard to make 7th graders understand that the friends they have now, aren’t they same friends they are going to have ten years from now.  Teaching 7th grade, I deal with A LOT of drama.  Girls are so incredibly wicked to each other.  I try to explain that it seems big now, but these relationships aren’t the ones that matter...they aren’t worth crying over.  I understand that they are hurt, and that is all that matters right now...so I just comfort them and try to sort out the drama with the abuser on the other end.    

In the 9th grade, I started a private school.  I didn’t know anyone at this school.  I was uncomfortable in my own skin.  I can’t remember exactly how she came into my life, but I just remember her being there.  There were only about 25 girls in my grade and she was one of them.  She was stunning.  Brown hair and big beautiful green eyes.  She instantly was my confidante, supporter, and friend.  This is my Brunette BFF.  We had sleepovers, and my parents adored her.  We were inseparable for two years.  We were on the drill team together, we skipped class together, we laugh together, and we cry together.  She tells me what's right and wrong when I don't want to hear it.  Two years in the private school, then I went back to a public school for my 11th grade year.   

When I was in the 11th grade, I walked into the first day of an Economics 101 class.  I sat down at a round table.  I was the second kid in the classroom. I didn’t have any friends, because I was new to this school.  I sat there and watched the classroom fill up.  My table was being avoided.  Then a beautiful blond girl came and sat down at my table across from me.  She introduced herself.  We were instantly best friends.  She had just moved from Indiana, so she too was alone in a school of 4,000.  She was alone, and I was alone.  We both needed each other.  This delightful woman is Blond BFF.  We had jobs together, and spend every weekend together...also inseparable.  This woman held my hand as I gave birth to the twins for my second surrogacy.  I was there for the birth of her two kids, holding her hand.  Our senior year, she went back to Indiana, and we were apart for the four years she went to college.  When she graduated, I was going through a rough time.  I was divorced and a single parent.  She knew I needed her.  She moved across the country to live with me and help me.  

These two magnificent women were put into my life at different times.  God knew when I needed them, and he brought them to me.  They are so different from each other, yet they are perfect for me.  It is strange how when one leaves for a while, the other shows up.  I have been best friends with Brunette BFF for 18 years and Blond BFF for 16 years.  They both have different attributes that make them special to me.  Blond BFF is one I know I could call and say, "I need you now," and she would come...no questions asked.  Yet over the last two years, I have grown closer to Brunette BFF.  When I need to cry, she listens.  When I need to vent, she listens.  When I just need to hear part of Texas, she gives that to me.  I don’t know how I got so lucky to have these two women as part of my life, but I am thankful for them.  I am thankful that I have someone who I can pick up the phone and call when I need to be heard.  I am thankful that I have someone that would drop everything and come to me if I asked tomorrow.  Who can say they have those kind of people in their lives?

I dedicate my letter “K” to these two women, because their names begin with the letter.  Thank you for everything you have done for me.  Blond BFF, thank you for moving across the country for me.  Brunette BFF, thank you for picking up the phone every other day when I need someone to talk to.  You are both so special to me, and I thank God every day for placing you in my path.  

Jobs

I have had some jobs in my life that I hate, and jobs that I loved.  There are also jobs I would have loved to do and jobs I don’t think I could ever do.

Jobs I would want to do:

1. I want to drive a back hoe.  If this means digging up dirt, or moving rocks every where...I don’t care.  I want to do a job that requires me to sit in that seat and run that big heavy equipment.  
2. I have always wanted to be a bus boy.  I know I could put the dishes in that tub and spray down that table better than ANYONE.  I would want to do it at a really busy place that just requires me to go from table to table.  Something is very relaxing about the motion of washing a table off.  I would be so fast!  
3. I want to work in a nursing home.  I would love to sit with those old people in their last days and take in everything they have to offer.  They have so much knowledge and experience.  Many spend their last days alone, and I would love to be the one to sit there and talk to them before that happens.  Then hold their hands when it is over.  No one deserves to die alone.
4. Before I die, I am going to work in a tire shop.  I want to repair and replace tires.  I want to go and hunt for the right tire, pull it off the shelf, roll it over to the car, and put it on.  I want to use that gun that puts the lug nuts on really fast.

Jobs I would never want to do:

1. Porta-potty cleaner.  Nope, no desire.  If you don’t know how to potty without making a mess, then you should have to wear a diaper.  Men, aim for the big white hole.  Not that hard.
2. Waitress.  I tried this once.  Here is the deal.  Would you want a woman with Alzheimer's being your waitress? Then you don’t want me.  I will forget your order between the table and the computer.  I will also forget that I have written it down on a pad.  Hell, I will forget I had a table at all.  Not to mention, if you are rude to me...I might just feel the need to kick you in the kidneys.  That probably won’t go over well with the boss.
3. Interior Designer.  First of all, I have no sense of what goes with what.  The pressure of trying to fix someone’s house, terrifies me.  What if they don’t like it?  Then they are stuck with it.  Would they tell me?  Would they just act like they like it to avoid hurting my feelings?  Could you hold a straight face when your walls end up orange and your floors end up green?  Your couch is plaid, and your chairs are leather.  How would you handle me as your interior designer?
4. Preschool teacher.  No desire to be around three year olds.  None.  Zip.  I don’t do diapers, I don’t do naps.  I don’t hold hands, and I don’t wipe snotty noses.  I don’t chase kids around, and I don’t stand there and pray they don’t spill their glass of milk for the eighth time.  It takes a special person, with super power patience to work with these kids.  That special person is not me.  If you leave me with your three year old, you better leave me some duct tape.  Case closed.
5. Bus driver.  I don’t have the stomach for stinky people and stinky kids.  

I might think of more to add to this later... Right now, I am in my dream job.  I don’t want to try anymore until I am ready to retire.  I will probably be 87 when I am doing my dream jobs...but it’s all good.  I will most likely forget I washed a table, so the tables will be washed multiple times.  Can you imagine me in a back hoe...at 87?  So fun!!  I will be the coolest!!

Incident...or two

We live very close to the largest casino in the United States.  Very close.  Like 15 minutes away close.  This casino is where all the concerts in the area are held.  I have to admit, there have been some artists that come up that intrigue me.  Then I remember...I hate loud places.  I hate crowded places.  A concert is both of those things.  

I have been to one concert.  One.  About eight years ago, I was living with Blond BFF.  She worked for a company that handed out cool things to customers.  One of those cool things was concert tickets.  At the time, Ashley Simpson was “in.”  I loved her...a lot.  Not only did Blond BFF have tickets, but she had second row seats.  I knew I had to go.  I couldn’t pass up these tickets even though everyone else had passed them up (which was why the tickets were available in the first place).  I didn’t care.  I was going to see Ashley Simpson.  So we got there, found our seats, and waited for Ashley to make her way to the stage.  It was AWESOME.  I remember being in absolute awe.  I was actually seeing a famous person up close.  It was the craziest feeling.  We were sitting at an angle that we could see behind the curtains off to the side of the stage.  Guess who was sitting on the table behind the curtains?  Jessica Simpson!  Not only did I get to see ONE famous person, I got to see TWO.  It was a good day.  We left the concert and sat in the parking lot for an hour.  

We were having a nice conversation, and I was finally moving through the streets.  Slowly moving, but moving.  Then Blond BFF’s phone rang.  I looked down because the ring was coming from between the two seats.  So I looked down, while driving.  My evening went from great, to shitty in about six seconds.  I slammed into the person in front of me, that unbeknownst to me, had come to a complete stop.  They slammed into the person in front of them, who slammed into the person in front of them.  I was the last car in a four-car pile up.  I hit her so hard that the seatbelt left a bruise across my collarbone.  It knocked the breath right out of me.  I was sitting there stunned, having a hard time breathing...positive I had broken ribs.  We waited for the police officer.  He arrived.  The woman in front of me was furious.  She thought I was drunk.  I don’t even drink, and didn’t have anything in my system but a Pepsi.  She begged the officer to have me blow.  I had no problem with that, but he didn’t think it was necessary.  It was a bad day.  That stuck with me.  No more concerts for me.  That ruined it.  Funny part...the story doesn’t end there.

It took two weeks for me to get my beautiful brand new Trailblazer fixed in the shop.  I got it back on a Tuesday.  On Thursday, I was driving home from work...BAM.  No joke.  I slammed into the car in front of me and created another ripple effect... For three. More. Cars.  I was again, the last car in a four-car pile up.  Cops show up.  I told him how sorry I was and explained that this had just happened to me two weeks prior.  

Me: I am so sorry!!  I have no idea what happened!!

Officer: Were you on your phone?

Me: No, I promise I wasn’t!  This just happened two weeks ago!

Officer: You had an accident two weeks ago?

Me: Yes!  I just got this back two days ago!

Officer: Do you have someone to tow your vehicle?

Me: Should I call the dealership that just towed it a couple weeks ago?

Officer: They had to tow it?

Me: Yeah, I just got a new front end put on it!

Officer: Wait, you rear-ended someone?

Me: Yes.  It was a mess.  Another four car pile up.

Officer: Hugh?

Me: Wait, what?

Officer: Let me get this straight.  You just got this vehicle back two days ago?

Me: Yes.

Officer: You were involved in a four car pile up two weeks ago?

Me: Yes.

Officer: You said you just had the front end replaced...does that mean you were the last car?

Me: Ummm...can I get taken to jail for doing this twice in less than three weeks?  Wait, maybe I should stop talking.  Damn, my boyfriend (Chief) always tells me I don’t think before I speak.  Is this what he means?  Do I need to get an attorney?

Officer: You might need one now.  Did you tell the other drivers?

Me: Not yet...

Officer: DON’T.  I need to give you a ticket.

Me: For what?

Officer: The wreck.

Me: You are going to give me a ticket for having an ACCIDENT?  It was an accident!  

Officer: Sure it was.  I will be right back.

No joke.  For real.  When I get to the dealership, the guy comes out.  “Long time no see!  You didn’t like the last bumper we put on??”  Haha jackass, at least I am keeping you in business.  Long story longer, me and concerts don’t mix.  Lets just be honest...me and driving don’t mix.  

Highway Shoes

I was driving down the highway yesterday looking at the lovely scenery.  The spring is starting to creep its way into the trees.  I love looking at the colors, the flowers that are blooming, and the shoe.  Yes, the shoe.  I’m driving down the highway and there is a random shoe in the middle of road.  This is not the first time I have seen a shoe in the middle of the road...but it is the first time I have given it a second thought.  This isn’t a toddler that has tossed a shoe out the window while mommy was driving down the highway.  This is an adult running sneaker.  How does that happen?  Possible scenarios I can think of...

1. Dude decided to go for a leisurely stroll down the highway.  He’s playing Angry Birds on his phone, not really paying attention to his surroundings.  BAM!  Car takes him out.  He is hit so hard that it knocks the shoe off his foot.  Now THAT is a bad day.
2. Having a male teenager, I know how smelly teen feet can be.  There are times Chief has threatened to throw Little Man’s shoes out the window.  So is that how this happened?  Mom just couldn’t take the smell anymore?  “Throw those out the window now.  I am about to upchuck all over myself.”
3. Remember the Flintstones?  Maybe the car wouldn’t stop fast enough so they pulled it Flintstone style and tried to slow down but lost a shoe in the process...
4. Some people put their drinks on the top of their car, maybe this guy put his shoes on top of his car.  Only one survived the ride...the other?  Lost on Highway 2A.
5. Is this some form of road rage?  Instead of throwing the finger, they throw a shoe?  Okay...if that’s what does it for ya. 

I will never understand why I see random shoes on the road.  In the meantime, I will make sure mine stay on my feet.  

Lonely Shoe

Yesterday I noticed

Something missing from my world

I went into my closet

Twirled and twirled

Turning in circles

Looking for my left shoe

For I couldn’t figure out

Just what to do

I tried to think back

To the last time it was with me

I remember getting in my car

To go on a late night shopping spree

I put a shoe

On my right foot

And told the left shoe

To just stay put

I placed it in a safe place

On the seat to my right

And took it for a spin

On a late Saturday night

It had been a long while

Since I had a companion

The last time I remember

Was at the Grand Canyon

We had a fun time

But I knew it wouldn’t last

So I was left with my Pumas 

And a tank of gas

So now I am missing

One left pink shoe

And I can’t remember 

At what point it withdrew

Did it jump out the window?

Did it leave me behind?

Or am I just forgetting...
Try to keep an open mind...

I have searched my entire closet

And I still can’t find my left shoe

I have asked a friend

And she doesn’t know what to do

She told me not to worry

It probably didn’t get far

But I am laying in bed

Wishing on a star

Please bring back my left shoe

It must be lonely without the right

They need to be together

Thank you, and goodnight.  

Gun Control

G is for Gun Control.  So the big hype right now?  Gun control.  I really don’t like to blog too much about politics.  I don’t want to talk about something I don’t really know and understand.  Gun control?  This is what I know.  Obama is trying to ban guns.  Although he hasn’t admitted this, that is what he really wants.  He currently is trying to ban assault rifles, and high capacity magazines...he also wants to make you jump through hoops in order to own a gun.

Do you understand guns don’t kill people?  PEOPLE KILL PEOPLE!!  Guns don’t go off on their own.  It takes a human controlling the trigger.  Sandy Hook recently had a terrible tragedy that took the lives of many innocent adults and children.  As soon as this happened, Obama used this as a stepping stone to further his agenda.  Maybe I just don’t get it...clearly I don’t.  He is making it harder for people to get guns to protect themselves and their families for crazy people like this guy?  I mean, crazy people will find ways to get guns, right?  So if they get the guns, how do I protect myself from them if I am not allowed to have them?  I know we are currently allowed to have them, but if Obama has his way...this could change.  

Just a few short weeks ago, we had a terrorist scare.  We had two people drop off two backpacks that happened to be bombs.  People are dead.  People are injured.  Shouldn’t we ban bombs?  They kill people just like guns do.  Oh wait, we have banned bombs.  Who got their hands on them?  Criminals.  Two criminals who were on the loose.  Eventually they caught and killed one of the two...then there was one.

The dilemma?

This man was on the loose in a neighborhood.  Let me just throw this hypothetical out there.  What if he was in MY neighborhood.  He is in MY backyard.  Currently I am allowed to only have ten rounds in my gun (in Connecticut).  Here is the problem.  I don’t know how to shoot a gun.  I am fairly certain that I am not going to be able to shoot this man with the only ten shots I have.  Now what?  Take the time to change clips?  By the time I change clips he is now in my face grabbing that gun out of my hand.  He comes into my home because I have missed in ten shots.  He has a gun.  BAM!  I am dead.  My child is dead.  Chief is dead.  Now we have a terrorist hiding out in a home...safe.  A place no one will think to look for him.  This is a scary thought for me.  Let’s add another twist.  Let’s just say they didn’t kill the first guy.  So now there is two of them.  I only have ten shots to hit TWO people...ten shots, THEN I have to take the time to either switch guns, or change my clip.  Do you think with shaky hands that I will be able to do that in a timely manner?  I think not.  Bummer if I am not an experienced shooter.  With only ten rounds, it is likely I will not be able to protect my family.  Well, at least I had a gun with ten rounds to make an ATTEMPT at protecting myself.  I can’t imagine losing that right.  

I don’t claim to know and understand politics.  I am very confident that I DON’T understand MOST of what goes on in politics.  What I DO know is that right now, in the state of Connecticut, I am allowed to have ten rounds at a time.  I DO know that Obama is trying to ban guns that shoot off many rounds at a time.  Why would someone like me need to own a gun like that?  Because this world is a sick place.  If I need to protect myself and my child, I want to have the ability to do that.  I don’t want to be limited on the amount of times I can aim and shoot.  

It is my right as a citizen.  

Samuel Adams:

"Among the natural rights of the colonists are these: first, a right to life, secondly to liberty, thirdly to property; together with the right to defend them in the best manner they can."

John Adams:

"Arms in the hands of the citizens may be used at individual discretion for the defense of the country, the overthrow of tyranny or private self-defense."

Thomas Jefferson:

"The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government."

Thomas Jefferson, in an early draft of the Virginia constitution:

"No free man shall ever be debarred the use of arms in his own lands."     

These are some brilliant men.  At what point are we going to stop the government from trying to take away our rights as citizens?  Taking weapons out of MY hands, doesn’t stop the bad guys from getting their hands on them.  They manage to get drugs, and bombs.  Even though both are illegal.  Do they think taking away our rights to own guns is going to take guns out of the hands of the criminals?  Are you shitting me?  I assure you, the bad guys will find a way to get things that are illegal.  They always have, and they always will.  Please don’t take away my gun when the bad guy still has his.