Life 12/02/2011

Because you certainly don’t think I just go around doing this: Blogging about my state of mind and other esthoric things . . .

Got a bench warrant issued for my arrest today.  Had it lifted within an hour and a half of me finding out, and 6 hours after it had been issued.  Pretty slick, eh?  I used my Marine disabilities as a reason (which is certainly partially true; I could have hinted at my state of mind, but those physical issues will do) . . . talked to the D.A. about opening another case . . . problem is I need a lawyer to get into those records . . .

Last weekend I taught my grandkids how to do two things.  One of them was how to sew – teaching them on an old football (and one of the older’s boy favorites – this is a major thing.  I’ll tell you about that in a moment.)

The other was teaching the younger one (he’s about nine) about ‘taking things apart’.  He’s sort of ‘my kind of kid’ – a ‘bad boy’ in most of the family’s mind (he’s sneaky, taking to lying, could be prone to stealing – but if he is, thus far hasn’t been caught – his brother has – these kids have had a ‘troubled’ past . . .)

Anyway, after teaching the one that when taking things apart, you must ensure that you can get them back together (no ‘breaking apart’ of parts – figure out how they went together) – and no dumping all the parts out of the machine right onto the counter!  LOL, that was a real one.  He did it – dumping out the contents of an old drill – gear head and all (with all it’s mini-gears, bearings, and whatnot) – whoosh – in a sprawling pile, looked up at me grinning, then I asked:

“Okay . . . now.  Can you put it back together?”  For while we had been disassembling this thing I had been stressing the point: usually when you are taking something apart, it’s so that you can fix it.  Therefore, it is important to a) preserve your parts, and b) don’t break them, and c) knowing you’re gonna have to be putting it back together….

and by the way, we also taught him about holding the screwdriver.  By watching him (and warning him) he was doing it the wrong way.  About the third time I tried to explain . . . but the words wouldn’t come out.  They just weren’t there.  And so I watched him ‘stab’ himself – right in the web of his fingers (just a slight, little nick; a tick in the skin) – and then I said:

“Well, that’s how I learned.”  Because after that . . . he was being REAL careful using it – doing exactly like I said.

They called me “mean grandpa” lots of times when they were younger.  But now they leave me with a kiss and a hug and are shocked – they don’t remember calling me “mean grandpa” at all – because I enforced the rules.  None of this going “NO” two or three dozen times.  I usually mean it on three.  Then cutting it to two, then one.  Never physically abusing them – but stopping them from doing, or doing what needs done.

They never suspected that old grandpa could run so fast the first time they went to running away to avoid their punishment.  Their mom wouldn’t run after them, so they had learned: run away and you won’t get punished – and you can get by with anything.

I had to “learn them”  . . . those aren’t the rules.  Not in human society.  And definitely not in mine.

We also taught them to throw, the first rule of the lesson being:  It doesn’t matter how FAR you can throw – what matters is: can you GET THE BALL WHERE YOU WANT IT?  (That applies in life sometimes, too.  Setting smaller goals helps.)

But . . . our oldest grandson . . .

the family all agrees.

He could be a dog born all over again; only in a human body.  You say “Ball” and his eyes light up – and he’s uncannily good at the thing.  With ANY kind of ball.  You name it – he can throw it, kick it – perfect spirals by the time he was 8 both by arm and punt – stand right there now and he throws the ball straight to your hand from thirty feet away.  And yeah – he misses sometimes – he’s just a kid – and he beats himself up bad about the thing – has a heart of gold . . .

reminds me of a Labrador retriever . . .

We taught him to sew up his ball – teaching the other one as well.  They’d brought along a ‘decor’ football – nice thing, sewn with vinyl and plastic – flash red neon and white – and they’d split the seams (it’s an old ball) after inflating it too much . .


Ever read Mark Twain?  Where it’s Huck, I think, posing as a girl?  And the old woman puts him to a test, threading a needle?  That’s what I did with my grandsons.  And just busted out laughing watching them stab the needle at the thread, crossing their eyes, squinting in tongue squirming concentration . . . LOL . . . even the stepson had problems.  We finally gave them a big ol’ canvas needle – used for sewing up tents – and tent thread.  Lasts a thousand years (courtesy of the US military, I’ve got several spools laying around – good stuff. )

We went ‘out to the country’ to visit an old friend; went walkin’ and fishin’ – didn’t catch a thing, which suits me fine . . . went walking through the woods under the excuse of ‘hunting’ – we were each carrying a gun – him a modern black powder weapon, me my .357 – as defense against the pigs.  He got sprung by one just a few weeks ago.  Weighed about 300, 350 pounds.  Easy.  Had some baby piglets with her.  Slaughtered them all.  That is, I did when we went back . . . (sigh)

Went to the flea market.  Saves a LOT of money that way: buying all your ‘dry goods’ and such at one time.  70% or more savings are not uncommon.  Watch your expiry dates, and on food items, remember: you don’t know how they’ve been stored.  Use your common sense and your brain, and you will help someone (I know, my family survived on the flea market for YEARS – my daughter was practically RAISED in one – and we still go to them – most of those vendors NEED your money – BAD – to feed someone.  Been there, done that.)  Plus – you save cash – you never know what you might find – and it makes for a fine day, walking around in a large one, just having fun.  Almost a carnival atmosphere – if you are willing to be open, friendly, and courteous . . .

Been working on a pond project for about . . . oh, twenty-five years.  Got a book I need to kick-start again now that I got one going (it was for the Nanowrimo thing).  Need to post that badge here on WordPress . . . gotta vacuum, do laundry . . .

yeah, life’s a thrill and ya gotta love it .

Keep it real – keep it varied – and get out some.  Even if it’s just a stroll / roll through the park sitting down . . .

it always makes you feel better.  (or at least for me it does…)


About jeffssong

JW is an adult childhood abuse survivor with DID*. He grew up in a violent family devoid of love and affection. He is a military brat and veteran. He no longer struggles with that past. In 1976 JW began writing "The Boy". It took 34 years to complete. It is currently on Kindle ( ), or if you prefer hard copy, on Amazon ( JW resides somewhere in the deep South. He is disabled and living with family. Note: Please feel free to take what you need; all is free to all. With that in mind, keep it that way to others. Thank you. We have 3 Blogs - One for our younger days, 0-10 (The Little Shop of Horrors); one for our Teen Alter and his 'friends' (also alters) with a lot of poetry; and finally "my" own, the Song of Life (current events and things)
This entry was posted in Life and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Go Ahead. You were thinking . . . ?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s