Wednesday, July 23, 2008
let me tell you about how exciting it is that there is FREE SHAKESPEARE around here!
ARTFARM which I believe is led by Dick Wheeler of Oddfellows Playhouse...presents TWELFTH NIGHT (can you say that and not trip over the f?) at the Community College.
We watched them perform Midsummer's Night Dream two years ago and they were incredible, I was speechless.......
and we skipped last years MacBeth....see, I picked up the abridged version from the local library to teach the kids before subjecting them to old english....and missed opening night.
That was a blessing in disguise as a friend told us of how gruesome and detailed the killing of the mother in front of the children was; so we skipped it last year.
But a comedy of errors???? We are off to see it.....and around here all week are words from the abridged version of Twelfth night.
"mommy, WHY does she pretend to be a man again????"
ah my dear daughter, because in a time not so long ago, women could not be women of strength and courage.
at which point my 5 year old starts to show me all her NEW KARATE moves thanks to her attendance to KUNGFU PANDA this week. Yup, it got so hot that I begged my 20 year old to take the kids to the "theater near you" (as they call it).
I am told by my daughter that the Panda bear thought he couldn't be chosen because he was too fat. Can this be true? In the end it was his SUPER FAT belly that the villan bounced off of and was sent to the abyss. "so you see," she informs me "it was his FAT, the thing that made him think he couldnt that was the very thing needed to make him could".
wise, isnt' she?
so is Hollywood saying that it is ok to be fat??? only if you are a panda bear. LOL
I am told that there is also a free performance of Merchant of Venice down New London way. I just may bring my family out there.....that was my first encounter with the old english and when I fell in love. While my peers in 9th grade moaned and complained; it came to me. It really did. Like somehow I may have written the very words in a previous life.
I am not blogging so much partly because we are never around but mostly because I am having major blogger issues with photo uploads. If it keeps up, I may find a new corner to blog in.
Happy summer to you all and stay cool!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
We were late for church. somehow I was to ride with them in the pacer...the car with the bubble window back. I didn't want to go with them in that car that smelled like wet dog, with him in it.
I had a hole in those tights, that I remember. I was trying to get them to let me ride in their car to church, but we were late and my complaining was making things worse. I wanted to change my tights, but well, we were late for church.
So I climbed in their car. He climbed in the back next to me. My breathe began to leave me. My heart started racing, I was scared. I wanted to go home. I wanted to get out of this car away from him.
His hands were filthy. stained with grease and oil from working on cars. they smelled like old metal going rusty and well, like him.
Those stubby oily hands found the rip. I moved my leg, trying to squirm away, surely grandpa or Ruth would see us in the rear view mirror.
The fingers insisted and made their way through the hole in my tights. Persistant, ugly hands.
Thats when I left. I looked out the window and watched fields of flowers go by. . . . . afraid to be in me, afraid because I had already told the secrets.......and no one seemed to care.
The church "handled it". I guess he confessed his sin and was made clean.
I don't really know. No one bothered to tell me much except that I should understand. See, his father did this to his sister and him. One day their mother walked in and he shot himself in the head. He lived I am told, but brain dead....lives in a convalescent home and his penis still gets hard. That's what they tell me. I guess it is supposed to make me feel better.
No, I would have felt better if he shot his kids, his wife and then did the job right to himself.
Then I wouldn't be telling this story. then, my grandfather wouldn't have married his evil wife... then, I wouldn't be so freaking f'd up in the head.
We arrived at church pretty quickly. I jumped out of the car as fast as I could.
"Damn" I thought to myself, he tore the tights bigger, now I will be in trouble for making my tights more ripped. She'll think I did it because I wasn't given the time to change them before church. Somehow, it is always about her.
Worship had started. There I found my peace. I raised my hands and shouted. If I could just scream it out, I could get our Lord's attention....maybe then he could wash me white as snow too....maybe then he could make me innocent again........and wash away this horrific shame. Maybe then he could come for me and keep me safely in His arms.
"Wash me in the blood of JESUS".... became a begging plea for me. WASH ME CLEAN Lord...get the grime of the car grease off of me.....get the yucky feelings far from me....help me Lord because I am SO alone and so afraid........and I want to die.
His mother could smile such a beautiful holy smile. She could utter all the right things in church....but I knew the truth. She was the devil in sheeps clothing. The leaders of the church were decieved. I forced myself to focus on her evil to not be decieved. She called me a whore, I was a bitch, a fresh mouthed brat. She is a liar, and I have to remember that but I get confused and sometimes believe her.
I was in 3rd grade when he started "approaching" me. He babysat me while my mother went out. He was my "uncle andy". It was fifth grade when the story came out. I told a friend one night after our teacher telling us about strangers "approaching" young girls in the bathroom. He wasn't a stranger. The friend told her mother. The mother called the school. The school called my parents. My mother asked me what happened, and I told her. He admitted it, except he said that I lied about threatening him.
Had anyone seen how MEAN and ANGRY he could get? and they didn't believe me that he threatened me........ because he told all the other parts of the truth.........and he never told me he was sorry.
Sorry for what?
For dreams of smelly filthy hands touching me. For robbing me of my innocence. For setting me up to learn to take care of other people's needs over my own (his father molested him afterall, so I had to understand- at age 10; I had to understand).
For confusing my reality so that later I would falsely accuse my step father of his crimes and live in that shame.....
For dividing my family because apparently my mother had a deep need of approval from her father that surpassed my need for safety and healing.....
For blaming me and somehow convincing me that it was all my fault. The terrible whore that I was in 3rd grade.......
I don't just blame him. I blame lots of others. But this blog is about HIM because I am now 40 years old and he was just arrested.
For child abuse.
For beating his daughter at a public pool.
His mother is coming from Florida to bail him out of prison. Where he needs to stay.
He molested many others in our neighbor hood....so NO HE WAS NOT IN LOVE WITH ME.
Why do I say this? Because one I know asked me that this past year.....he is a filthy rotten child molester who has been able to con the world for the last 40 years.
His mother is coming up to bail him out, did I say that? HA! But I didn't say where she will be staying....
at my own mother's house.
And she wonders why I hate her. Because she first hated me. It's not all about hate, but when moments like this come, it is a deep hate and we both pretend that it isnt' there.
She chooses them over her own daughter, over me. That therein is the problem.
It wasn't him molesting me that left such huge scars (because I am a strong woman); or his mother's evil blaming ways; or the church's need to cover it up and keep in within the church; or my totally confused spiritual reality....nope. all that, I can forget about.
You know, how they all tell me "forget about the past, let it go...."
It is the continuing betrayal of my mother that keeps ripping my heart to shreds.
How does one let go of pain when hurts are still hurled at you?
It is why I am calling the Meriden Police Department tomorrow to testify against this man. In front of HIM, to ANDY, to Ruth and to my mother.To stand up and say S T O P.
Maybe then, I'll find healing.
Maybe then that poor little girl will be delivered from her hell. He already lost a daughter to the state, how was he able to have more children?
To those who know me and read this- you know I have to do this to get back my life. To get back that shred of sanity and self esteem that I once had.
Pray for me. for my safety, for my sanity and for those that I love.........
Copied from CT Judicial Dept. Court Docket:
Last, First: WOODS, ANDREW MICHAEL
Birth Year: 1961
Times on the Docket: 2
Docket No: N07M-CR08-0247795-S
Program: Court: Meriden GA 7
Arresting Agency: LOCAL POLICE MERIDEN
Arrest Date: 7/15/2008
Bond Amount: $20,000 (This case only)
Bond Type: Set
Activity: Awaiting Disposition (Not Released From Custody)
Next Court Date: 7/30/2008 10:00 AM
Statute Description Class Type Occ Offense Date Plea Verdict
53-21 RISK OF INJURY TO CHILD C Felony 1 7/15/2008
53a-181 BREACH OF PEACE 2ND DEG B Misdemeanor 1 7/15/2008
Friday, July 4, 2008
Gerry was my oldest son's grandmother. She died when he 14 years old....her gardens were beautiful. My son asked his father for one of her rose bushes when they sold her house....he had spent many hours in those gardens earning a few coins.
When he was little, she would sing, "I love you a bushel and a peck and my arms around your neck....."
Can you see that little guy trying to hide from me?
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
pictures I took back then so these aren't the same anymore but nevertheless...
the sugar snap peas....
the begining of zuccini.....
and our PIZZA GARDEN....
did I tell you about the pizza garden?
I decided to plant a pizza garden for the children to grow. One with plum tomatoes, garlic, basil, peppers, and onions...
So I picked a spot in the sun that didn't have very fertile soil...and tried a new way to plant a garden. I gathered up OLD cardboard boxes- I found old pizza boxes so I thought they'd be appropriate. I had the children help me rip up the pizza boxes and place them in a circle. I got the hose and started watering them down so I could place layers of dirt and compost. As I am watering, my daughter sits down,rests her chin on her hand, shaking her head, concerned for me, very concerned for me and says,
"Mommy, can I talk to you?"
so I look up thinking the worst....
"Mommy, I saw this on t.v. I'm so sorry to tell you this. You can't grow pizza from pizza boxes- it doesn't work that way!"
and she bowed her head in a serious sadness.
I wanted to laugh, but this was a VERY IMPORTANT TALK.
SO I showed her the dirt buckets....and the seeds....and explained my idea...using cardboard as a barrier that would compose....and how I couldn't plant the dough...
And a smile came on her lips as understanding formed in her eyes.
"thankgoodness" she said. "I thought you lost your mind!"
So our pizza garden is dedicated to the one I love- and in hopes of never loosing our minds....
(and the red thing hanging? one of our hummingbird feeders....)
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
the waves are rythmatic heatbeats within my ears,
the sand comforts, a familiar warmth from the years.
opening my eyes I see the bright orange ball descending,
so strong and powerful it takes the sky with it
in streaks of orange, yellow and pink.
there are no paintings like these on any canvas
the living beauty exists only at the cape,
on its' shores, the waves beating in tune.
crashing itself loudly against the shore,
the waters carry the most powerful source of all,
taking everything back into it's womb.
listen to the stories waves tell,
of strong men devoured by the sea's desire.
of undefeatable battleships sleeping on it's floor.
listen to the ancestors cry from it's grave,
calling you home;
perhaps warning you away,
My blood beats in tune of it's own accord.
responding to those that have gone on before,
recognizing the dna in the molecules of ocean spray.
Her voice cries to me loudest of all,
a great grandmother whose name I share,
passing to me the strength from the waves.
breathing in the salt air,
I receive her strength, her wisdom,
the courage and power.
opening my eyes I find
the fire ball has gone to rest...
the bright moon rises to compensate.
the gulls call with a mocking laughter,
the moon is expansive and full,
the waves crash strongest and loud.
the mocking breaks the fantasy,
the ocean has no strength,
my blood holds no power.
knowledge creeps in,
herein lies the truth;
as the moon wanes, all will return to weak.