My Not-So-Anonymous Response

I’m not a fan of lists but I decided to compose this one for that small group of people group of small people, rather, who seem to be in need of a bit of reassurance.

P.S. THIS POST “AIN’T” ANONYMOUS. If anything about it offends (or resembles) you, then you are cordially invited to kiss my ass. Too strong? Ok, and I would never invite a coward under my clothes anyway -so, let me change that… you are cordially invited to cowgirl up and contact me for a personal one on one, adult size conversation.

NUMBER 1–I am not a security officer—I’ve paid my dues cupcake, I carry gun(s), not flashlights. 

NUMBER 2–I do not sit with my feet propped up on desks—I’m too professional (and too cute) for that. Were my feet on the desk when I interviewed you during that investigation you were involved in sugar-doodle? 

NUMBER 3–There are very specific, potentially life-saving, rules and laws about what one should do while driving. For example, one should never send and/or receive text messages while operating a motor vehicle. If I am asked to drive so that messages, emails and/or phone calls can be made and/or returned, in a timely manner, I have absolutely no problem doing so. Did I mention that I am a trained defensive driver, and I can navigate through traffic in a crisis situation with ease and reliability, sweetie pie?

NUMBER 4–I am a true “mother hen”, and sometimes that means sitting outside the henhouse, looking in.— Butter cup, there’s a lot to be said about tip lines, surveillance cameras and social media when it comes to detection, prevention and protection. 

NUMBER 5–Officers who rotate between schools are typically from one of three pools, sweet cheeks… (1) not enough officers to have one at each school, (2) so good that he or she is capable of covering and acting as a rover/back up officer for the other officers or (3) the officer has been removed from a campus because of inappropriate or questionable behavior and placed in a “rotator” position.

NUMBER 6–My pockets, in no way, resemble my qualifications which are clearly verified by my years in service, my boots on the ground experience and my resume’, booboo kitty.

NUMBER 7–Unlike several of you who have an issue (with everything), I am a tax paying citizen of this community— I’ve lived here well over 20 years sweet pea. 

NUMBER 8–My unmarked vehicle and my plainclothes status are by design. I can assure you that people are more willing to talk to me when I’m driving a Honda and wearing a business suit than they are when I’m in full police garb and a patrol car. Check the stats muffin!

Bottom line—  I smile and speak when I see you because it’s obvious that it sucks to be you but please don’t let the smooth taste fool you. I promise I can be 10 times nastier than you and your entire little group of conspirators combined! 

 

 

 

Update on the stray pup—

*Update               *Update               *Update               *Update               *Update

Look who received a clean bill of health from her doctor.

Her stitches were removed and she now weighs 38.7 pounds which is a gain of more than 12 pounds since she wondered up.

A Choice? Really?

This is a re-post of a response that I published in July of 2015, after reading a post shared by a FB friend in which he did the old…”I don’t agree, but I love Cousin Johnny anyway”. I decided that it was my turn to speak up, speak out and speak long and loud!

Timing is everything — I believe this is a great time to re-share! Comments are welcomed, but please no hatred, bigotry or discrimination.

Each One Teach One

I love you as a fellow human, as my brother in blue and the fact that you regularly show and share your love of God is a plus, in my opinion, and another reason I love you, my friend! Let me get to my point…I think there are millions of people who are missing/avoiding/ignoring one of the most important issues of all here. Everyone – and I mean EVERYONE- walking God’s green earth deserves to be respected and have their rights to live, laugh and love respected! What gives anyone the right to say where the line is drawn? Is there any difference between two men being in a monogamous, loving, RESPECTFUL relationship and a man and woman who are married?… Let’s sweeten the pot…. that married man does all he can to get a woman, other than his wife, to accompany him to his hotel room and into his bed… Do you really think God is keeping score like that? Man, with man -negative 0; man with woman +10— oops wait— she’s not his wife… better subtract a few points for that…

From what I’ve been taught, we are all sinners and, although we all have burdens to bear, none of us have the burden (or the right) to decide who goes where after death! Yes, each one should teach one BUT yes, each one should sweep around his and her own front door first, last and always!

P.S. You mentioned that you love your friends and family members who are gay and just because being gay is the lifestyle they “chose” you love them no less… People CHOOSE to lie, steal, CHEAT, commit adultery, covet thy neighbor’s wives or husbands…etc. and when caught, there are various consequences.

Answer this: How many of these consequences, in any way, compare to being ridiculed, taunted, hated by millions, treated as an outcast, mocked, treated with contempt, scoffed at, despised, etc. on a daily basis – forever? Now answer this: which of your “friends or family members” (the ones who are gay) are you calling a stupid, dumb ass, mentally challenged, effing idiot-  because surely that’s what they’d have to be to “choose” to endure all of that! I’ve met so many people in my life, heterosexual and homosexual, that I’ve forgotten who some of them are, but I’ve never met anyone who “chose” to be gay.

“Love you my brother”

Abducted: He said he was our uncle (a true story)

When we were old enough to attend school, our parents sent us to what I can only describe as “the little schoolhouse on the hill”. Seriously, it was a big white building that sat on top of a hill. Thinking back, it truly looked like something from “Little House on the Prairie”. Lunch was the same thing every day… English peas, with an orange slice and a piece of cornbread. I can vividly recall the teacher constantly saying “Ro- Shellllll, don’t fork your bread”. As if spending your day in a hauntingly scary looking house wasn’t enough, we had to look at and listen to “Mrs. Congeniality” all day, too. Luckily, my brother and I were in the same classroom since she was the only teacher.

I’ve mentioned before that I followed my brother everywhere. One day, just before dismissal, the sky turned dark and a torrential rainstorm pummeled the area. My brother and I stood inside the building looking out for our parents. A fellow classmate, who just so happened to be Mrs. Congeniality’s kid, approached us, and for lack of a better term, baited us. The little demon dared us to walk home, in the rainstorm, all alone. Here’s where I have proof that my dear, sweet, older brother loved me from the start, he grabbed my hand, and led me out of the building into the storm. He told me that we would be okay and that he knew the way home.

I suspect, had I looked back, I would have seen that evil kid and her mother laughing at the poor little drenched idiots who were trudging along holding onto one another for dear life. The rain was coming down so hard I could hardly see what was going on in front of me. We made it down the hill and to the main street, which was generally a very busy two lane street. On this particular day, traffic was almost non-existent, probably because the entire area was under a tornado warning. Anyway, as we made our way in the direction that my big brother assured me would get us home, we approached a bridge that was completely unfamiliar to us. That’s when an older model blue car drove past us then pulled over on the shoulder of the road. We held on to one another and kept walking when suddenly the driver’s door opened and a very tall, thin man stepped out into the rain, basically blocking our way. When he bent down and spoke to us, we, being brought up to be polite and respectful, stopped and greeted the man. He smiled and told us that he was our “Uncle Jeff” and that we should get into his car so he could take us home. I was so happy that “Uncle Jeff”, whom I’d never met nor had I heard of before, happened to be in the neighborhood that I gladly let him pick me up and put me in his trunk., I guess my big brother was happy too because he allowed “Uncle Jeff” to pick him up and put him in there with me.

To our horror, he wasn’t really our uncle and he didn’t have a clue where we lived. He had lied… and so have I, but only about the trunk. He didn’t really put us in the trunk, and by the time my big brother remembered that we didn’t have an uncle named Jeff, the man was pulling into the driveway of that darn little white schoolhouse. He had taken us back to the scene of our escape. “Uncle Jeff” parked, opened the back door, picked both of us up and carried us to the front door of the school. Mrs. Congeniality stepped out and acted surprised to see us in the arms of that stranger. I heard her thank him for saving us as she closed and locked the door behind him. She immediately called our mom and dad, and I specifically recall sitting in a chair in front of the open oven door eating cookies when they arrived. Was the pilot lit in that stove? Was it set on 500 degrees? Was she trying to kill us with gas fumes or make chocolate chips out of our little drenched bodies?

Mom and dad arrived and mom cried when that crazy old lady told her what happened. They carried us out to the car and took us home.

To this day we don’t have any idea who that man was, where he came from or where he went. Needless to say, that was our last day at the little schoolhouse on the hill.

 

Forget-Me-Not

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. For the next several weeks our prompts will be Alaska themed. This week’s prompt is the state flower: Forget-me-not.

                                Forget Me Not

                                            

How could I?  Your bold blue color is my favorite of all colors. When I look at you, I see the twinkle in your eye -that only my eye can see and I humbly say to you… forget me not…for you are my reflection of myself.

“Ma, that’s not faaaaiiiir”

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Dear Family, I regret to inform you all that I will be unavailable via cell for the next two days. No, I didn’t lose my phone or drop it in the toilet, and no, my mom did not forget to pay the bill. I am phone-less by my own fault – see my mom entered my room this morning and asked me to get up and head to the shower (it was 7 a.m. and we were going to mass at 8:30)… I responded by saying “ma, that’s not fair” (in my whiny baby voice).
She returned a couple of minutes later and asked again that I get up. I responded the same way as before.
The third time she came in she said two words “Tanner, consequences” –
you all know what I said.
Well on the fourth time she said “Tanner, consequences, consequences Tanner”!
My lazy self told my self with sense to get up but… well… I didn’t, and
believe it or not, she didn’t do anything crazy like flip my mattress or pour cold water on me, she simply walked past my room saying “no phone or games at all today”!
I whined a little louder – “no Ma, that’s not fair” … but I STILL didn’t get up 🙀
On the sixth time that the Lord sent my mama past that door, she said these words “that’s 2 days and the next time I come in here it’s a week”!
Yes, that got my attention. I got up and yes, I’m angry now, and yes, my mama wrote this!
(This is not a political ad and although Tanner Harris did not write and does not support this message, I wrote it and I endorse it and she better abide by it or she’s gonna taste the rainbow– tu-day!)

Please do yourself a favor and read the next post— it’s my family’s response to this message and it’s hilarious—–