Tax Man?

I have a friend, who I'll call Dick. Dick recently read this book…



…and has decided to follow the author's examples and advice. What is this book about? Basically it's a tax scam in which you claim that your wages are not taxable and you are entitled to a full refund of all federal withholding.

Now, I hate paying taxes as much as the next person, but I'm not willing to risk the wrath of the IRS. But my friend Dick is under some kind of spell after having read this book. (It's reminds me of fundies!)

I've tried to talk him out of trying this scheme, but he is convinced that it is NOT a scheme…he believes the author of this book is interpreting the law correctly, and that the federal government has been defrauding voluntary tax payers for decades.

It’s been nice knowing you, Dick. Be sure to send me a postcard from the federal penitentiary.

Better Off Dead?

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What is “Normal” after your only child dies?

Normal is reliving the last day you spent with your child over and over, and wondering if you will ever forget.

Normal is wasting countless hours in front of the noisy TV or computer because silence is deafening.

Normal is seeing your child in the face of every child who remotely resembles yours, and feeling a grief so strong it knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Normal is having insomnia again and again because the sound of a thousand ‘what if's’ parade noisily through your head.

Normal is popping pills because you know your mental health depends on it.

Normal is facing the difficult task each year of how to honor your child's date of death and birthday, and wondering how to survive these days.

Normal is having tears behind every smile because someone very special is missing from all the important events in your life.

Normal is feeling your heart soar and then crash at the sight of something you know your child would have loved, if only he were still around to enjoy it.

Normal is telling new friends and co-workers the fact that you lost a child, seeing the shock, sadness and pity in their eyes, and then getting to continue on with your day as if nothing is wrong.

Normal is being impatient with everyone because you just don’t have it in you to be patient anymore.

Normal is crying every day for two years, and then one day realizing you haven’t cried in over a week…and then you cry because you feel guilty.

Normal is lying to everyone by telling them you are fine, because the lie is easier for them to hear…and easier to say.

Normal is knowing people are afraid to mention your late child. Normal is mentioning your late child often (but not too often) to make sure that others remember him.

Normal is grieving for weeks, months, and years…a mother’s grief is eternal.

Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal."



Jonathan's birthday was a few days ago. He would have been 23 years old. This is how I choose to honor him this year.

Home Alone

Hubby is out of town on business...
I hate being home alone.

It's too quiet when he's not around. I'm the crazy cat lady when he's gone!...muttering to myself and talking to the cats, staying in my PJ's until noon. And I stay up too late at night when he's away because I don't like going to sleep in an empty house. I sleep with my Ruger when hubby isn't here, and but the cold steel offers little comfort. There's just something unsettling about being home alone on nights when I know he isn't going to walk through the door after work. I hate being home alone.

But I also love being home alone!

Not having to pick up after him or share the remote, or smell his nasty chicken salad sandwiches (don't ask!). I can play the stereo and not have to turn it off because he wants to watch TV. I can spend an evening in blissful silence, curled up with a good book and a cup of tea. And, best of all, I don't have to listen to him snore!



Heck, he'll be home in a few days. I think I can tough it out.