She said, “Hola, ¿Como estás, she said, “Konichiwa.”
She said, “Pardon my French,” I said, “Bonjour Madame.”
Then she said, “Sak pase,” and I said, “N’ap boule.”
No matter where I go you know I love them all
These pics are of maybe my favorite all-time child in my 10 years of social work. Her name is Joy, a little Haitian girl from Miami. She was on my caseload the whole time I was in south Florida and I spent a lot of time with her. I’ve since moved back to St. Petersburg. About 3 weeks ago I was so happy to find out that a family in Pinellas County had been matched with her for adoption and better yet my bestie Kristie Giancola had been assigned to complete their Adoption Home Study. Joy was getting adopted and I would get to see her again, yeah!!! Late last week the family called Kristie and told her they had changed their mind, they didn’t want to adopt Joy anymore, because they had concerns she “wasn’t smart enough” (apparently Joy had forgotten their bio daughter’s name in their phone conversation). Joy is still in a foster home in Miami, available for adoption. Social work in south Florida is so shitty. I was worried when I left that her new case manager wouldn’t have any sense of urgency in finding her a home, and that appears to be the case. I just looked on the Miami Dade Heart Gallery website and there is no picture or bio for Joy 😦 Some pretty horrible things happened to her that lead to removal from her parents, and now the family she thought were going to be her new mommy and daddy have changed their mind. Kristie had to close the case and won’t be doing those DOUCHEBAGS home study now!
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I have made some great friends in St. Petersburg, and Tampa, and Clearwater, and Largo, and Pinellas Park, and Bradenton, and all around the area. But I have made great friends in other places I’ve lived as well (love you Ashley and Kelli) and it appears I can only outrun my unhappiness for a short time. A gypsy I am, and a gypsy I’ll be. I always think I’ll be happier somewhere else, things will be better, I will find someone to love me. I know this is true because stupid, stupid me has kind of fallen in love with 2 different guys I only know (or thought I knew) from the internet…how you doin’, Mr. C and Mr. O? I so very much want that knight in shining armor, that winning lottery ticket, that beautiful baby, that man who looks at me like maybe I am magic. I applied for jobs in Atlanta and Miami, and Miami called first, so I’m headed south, running away from my mental health, trying to be happy again, if only for a while.
My Wagon Wheel flea market purchases:
A raccoon $4
8 travel size and 1 regular toothpaste $3
dented tortilla Pringles 50 cents
hot cinnamon sugar almonds $3
canvas/painting in a good frame, to be provided to one of my emerging artists to paint over $5
CVS generic Tylenol 50 cents
Red sunglasses $1 (I think they Versace)
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The Struggle is Real Ya’ll…Konichiwa Bitches
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When his girlfriend had to put down her beloved 10-year-old beagle, this thoughtful guy knew just what to do to help cure her broken heart. It’s a rainy Thursday night in St. Pete, and I am feeling kind of sad and lonely. I had a good cry watching this video.
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When I was a case manager in Pensacola, I had a big office all to myself. I would collect small toys at different thrift stores and flea markets, and kept them in said office for the children on my caseload. 2 years later, I still have bags full of toys. I had a home visit scheduled this evening, to see a three-year old on one of my cases. I brought my bag of toys for him, and the other foster kids in the home, and the foster mother’s grandbaby, with the plan that each toddler could have 2-3 toys. At my arrival, the “gang” and I do mean gang included my three-year old *Bubba, siblings *Peanut and *Bean three and 1 1/2 years old, and the foster mother’s granddaughter *Atari, 4 years old. All were observed to have snotty noses.
The five of us got down on the living room floor and I dumped the bag of toys out. They all started grabbing and pushing. Bean sat down right in the middle of the pile. I tried to help Atari pick out the few girls toys, but Peanut snatched up a My Little Pony and a Strawberry Shortcake, causing Atari to start screaming and trying to kick Peanut, who smartly remained just out of reach. His little brother Bean wasn’t as lucky. He was intently slobbering and putting toys in his mouth when Atari hit him over the head with a Triceratops, hard, and he started screaming and crying. I tried to explain to Peanut that he didn’t want girls toys, but his foster mother (who is ancient, older than her own mother, and whose voicemail jumps right into quoting scripture without so much as a hello) shrugged and said “Peanut be likin’ girl stuff, that’s how he do.”
Bubba was stockpiling toys behind him, and Peanut and Atari started grabbing again. Peanut put poor Boots up his nose. Atari was trying to be sneaky and was hiding toys underneath her, looking off into space so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact with me. Bubba and Peanut started grabbing up toys and running them to their bedroom, in the back of the house. Old Mother Hubbard didn’t say shit. Atari refused to stand up, because she was sitting on several toys, including Stitch, Eor and Oscar the Grouch. She never stood up until I left, furtively watching me with her little thievin’ eyes. As soon as I had three or four toys in front of one of them and thought I was good, the others had grabbed up more, except baby Bean, who needed changing, BADLY 😦
All three of the older gremlins got 5-6 toys each at least, and when I started putting the remaining toys back in the bag, all four of them started screaming again, yelling No! Stop! Mine! Peanut even started crying. As I made my exit Bubba and Peanut were wrestling and screaming over a giraffe, Atari was nesting on her stolen loot, and Bean was gnawing Miss Piggy’s face off.
* Not their names
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“Well I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damn depressed
That I set my sights on Monday and I got myself undressed
I ain’t ready for the altar but I do agree there’s times
When a woman sure can be a friend of mine”
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I tried to go to work today, but left after a couple of hours, apparently I am still a bit emotionally fragile. On the way home, I stopped at the St, Vincent de Paul thrift store on 34th and treated myself to 10 (ten) books for $1 (one) .
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Publix fried chx with Sriracha, then a red velvet cheesecake. And I know it’s all hipster trendy and whatnot, but I finally tried Kombucha, and it’s nasty, yuck 😦
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64 cent Wal-Mart Great Value Chef Boyardee and a big cup of coffee…I got such refined tastes and whatnot…a foodie, ya heard?
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One upon a time there were two raccoons who lived in Florida, in the woods near the beach. Neither raccoon was young, though they tried. For example, Rascal still wore silver gauges in his ears and used Just for Coon on his eyebrows, while Ren had little silver barbells in six of his nipples, and described his fur as being decidedly darker than it actually was in his online dating profiles.
Rascal and Ren were both clever, as most raccoons are, each in their own way. Rascal loved to read, and had a vivid imagination, and was something of a dreamer, while Ren was more grounded, more practical, and had extremely dexterous fingers. Ren could program computers and put together IKEA furniture and change a tire, all things that Rascal was hopelessly incapable of. Ren’s fingers were also magical in the bedroom, but this is a fairy tale for the cubs, so we will explore his legendary sexual prowess another time. Rascal and Ren were also lucky and grateful to be healthy, as they both have had friends, lovers and even litter-mates die from the scourge of the gay raccoon community, Rabies.
What brought these two clever fellows together was their loneliness. As you may have gleaned, both Rascal and Ren are known to be homosexuals, which is not as rare in the animal kingdom as you might think. Being cute and clever and vaguely masculine, Rascal and Ren never had any problems having the gay sex, in fact they were very popular in that regard, but something was always missing. I can’t speak for Ren, but for Rascal, all of the old coons trying to get into his fur had lost it’s luster, after a couple of decades anyway. He knew he was different, special, not a stereotype, he just desperately wanted someone to see him and understand him and all of his eccentricities.
Rascal was extremely excited and turnt up to meet Ren, because seemingly Ren was the not-same as him….in fact, Ren’s online profile stated: NOT A STEREOTYPE, so it must be true.
Over the next week Rascal’s need to be loved and his vivid imagination went kind of wild over Ren. He would sit and chitter softly to himself while washing his food for hours, thinking about Ren. He had both happy thoughts about finding a husband and naughty thoughts about Ren’s well-preserved body (Rascal was a little conflicted, because Ren had sent him a pic wearing only a tiny little speedo, both titillating but also troubling because the pic was taken out in the woods with other raccoons around).
Rascal possibly imagined Ren to be more than he is, but maybe not, maybe Ren is kind and smart and thoughtful and loving and patient (and Rascal realizes how important patience would be in his potential partner, remember he’s special). Rascal dreams about Ren most nights, and has happy endings…wet dream happy endings. Guess we’re not going to market this as a child’s fairy tale. To explain, Ren is so much on Rascal’s brain that he is dreaming about him at night, and in his dreams Ren is even more awesome (Rascal dreams big, both awake and asleep, and often climaxes). Ren has rescued Rascal and his mice (Stinky and Nugget) from Hurricane Katrina, wading out with a mouse under each arm. Ren has been Richard Gere as the knight in shining armor, rescuing Julia Roberts (Rascal) from her dingy apartment and riding err driving off into the sunset. Most recently, most vividly and most troubling, last night Ren gallantly gave Rascal something medically, a little fuzzy but Rascal remembers it being a bone marrow transplant or possibly a kidney…regardless, awesome sauce you is Ren!
Here is where our lovely fairy tale takes a turn that could devolve into a tragedy with no happy ending. Remember Ren is smart and clever and a little sneaky, so he got great news that he had been accepted into law school, yeah! Law school not in their shared woods, but over the river and through the woods and up the interstate to a more provincial wooded campus. Ren messages Rascal with his great news, but then his awesomeness kind of dissipates, as he explains that although he knows Rascal will be disappointed, he is sorry but school starts in August and he has to find a place to live and pack up and will be busy and his future plans no longer include Rascal. Rascal is confused, and sad, and angry.
Ren has been reckless with Rascal’s heart, and his goddamn imagination, and his Freudian wet dreams of rescue. Rascal is still imagining living happily ever after, of cubs, of Ren’s magical fingers, of love. Rascal watches the Normal Heart (mistake) and cries, either about the rabies epidemic or over Ren. Rascal talks himself through Ren’s position: Rascal has a nice almost new BMW, so making the drive to see his love would be no problem. There is cub abuse everywhere, and Rascal has a couple of degrees, so he knows he can be gainfully employed over there. Rascal is pretty sure that Ren doesn’t want to keep his options open for the chance at one of those country frat coons, after all he is at least thirty (30) years older than they are. Rascal doesn’t really have any family, and nothing to keep him in these woods. Rascal has imagined Ren to be all of these beautiful things, and thought/still thinks Ren is that person, complicated and discerning and layered…and that Ren has the same capacity to love and care about him that he has for Ren. Rascal wants the fairy tale, the happily ever after, the opportunity to get to know the real Ren, and love him forever…and they lived happily ever after?
Rascal’s online profiles always say he is “versatile” but we know what time it is, buddy.
Ren was somewhat embarrassingly an amateur porn star in the late 80’s, including some inter-species videos 😦
Rascal has had a long, sad, troubling relationship history with old white men, who plied him with liquor and crawfish and weed and stuff
Rascal is an Adoptions worker, and here is the little nugget he and Ren adopted together, named Gator