“In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.”
-Terry Pratchett
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about what it’s like living with Piper. She is finally coming into her own and getting bigger every day. Check this out!
Piper: “Momma help me!”
Me: “What is the problem, Piper?”
Piper: “Tink bit my butt for no reason!”
Me: “Did you do anything to her?”
Piper: “No! She just bit me for no reason!”
Tink: “Piper you cowabungaed my head!”
Piper: “No I didn’t! Fluff off!”
Tink: “What did you say? You little feline fluff ball?”
Piper: “I promise! I did nothing wrong!”
Me: “Piper, the collected evidence shows that you, in fact, jumped on Tink’s head without provocation.”
Piper: “Momma, I’m just a little kitty!”
Me: “And you are responsible for your own kitty actions.”
Tink: “Ha! Ha! I told you, you little snack stealer!”
Piper: “Momma said that I was growing and needed more than anyone else.”
Me: “Piper, I did not! Coco, do you care to chime in?”
Coco: “Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil.”
Piper: “Well, that’s what I heard you say.”
Me: “When, ma’am?”
Piper: “The other night when I was asleep.”
Me: “Piper, that must’ve been while you were dreaming.”
Piper: “Well, you still said it no matter if I was awake or asleep.”
Me: “Piper, you must share your snacks just like you want me to share everything that I eat.”
Piper: “Well, I’m just curious and want to know what you’re eating?”
Me: “By jumping on me and into my plate?”
Piper: “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Thanks for reading! Life with my girls is full of laughs and love. They are my family. Keep moving forward and always spay and neuter you pets.
Affirmation: I deserve every snack and piece of food that I find.
“Pawsitively bewitched by my furry friend’s cuteness.”
-Unknown
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about not forgetting our pets on Halloween. They secretly despise you for the costumes that you pick out. All they wanted was to be a part of the family. And they had no idea that they would be subject to such cruelty. Poor them. I don’t find any of that cruelty. I love seeing our pets dressed up as almost anything. Here are a few of these pets and their personal opinions concerning Halloween costumes. See if you agree. In
Snoop Dogg
“Fo shizzle my nizzle.”
Colin Oscopy
“Dr Patio Furniture ER Stat!”
Charlie
“A cow?! With utters?! I’m eating the couch pillows when we get home.”
Pudding
“Seriously? I have my head in a hamburger right now?!”
Sister Mary Clarence
“May God forgive you for your sin of dressing me up as a nun.”
Wendy
“How do you live with yourself?”
Jess Kidding
“Let me tell you all the reasons why I hate you.”
Nico Time
“What in the absolute Hell have you done?!”
Cheetolini
“You should go to prison!”
“The Angry Yam”
“You should go to prison twice!”
Power Serge
“A Beanie Baby?! Please tell me it isn’t so.”
Capital Splatter
“I AM CHUCKY!”
Perv Griffins
“This is your fetish! Not mine!”
Rocky and Apollo
“We are calling the ASPCA!”
Thanks for reading! Happy Halloween to you and your pets. Happy Haunting!
Affirmation: I am worthy despite my owner/owners ideas about costumes.
“When I look back at the 1980s I pinch myself. Did I really do all that?”
-Cynthia Payne
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about Halloween in the 1980’s. I have always said that the 1980s was the best decade ever. And I still stand by that statement. To get a good laugh about that decade just ask me about Halloween.
First let’s look at the costumes. The popular choices of the plastic costumes were He-Man, She-Ra, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Ghostbusters. For girls, it was Madonna inspired looks with lace gloves and teased hair. And boys were any type of monster costumes. Ben Cooper, Inc. became synonymous with Halloween for generations. The costumes were a plastic masked paired with a vinyl smock. Let’s not forget that the only thing that held the mask on our faces, and what we rested our faith in pending a disaster, consisted of two staples and a rubber band. We, also, always had that asshole friend or sibling who would walk up from behind you and pull that rubber band back and let go with it feeling like you had just been beheaded. Not to mention the tiny hold at the mouth that allowed for only a small amount of air and space to stick the tip of your tongue through that would lead to a sore or a cut by the end of the night. Yes, I wore these as well. Or for some of us costumes consisted of wearing your dad’s oversized clothes representing a hobo. And no costume was complete without using a pillowcase to hold all of our candy. Or the plastic Halloween buckets from McDonald’s in three different options such as “McBoo,” “McPunk’n,” and “McGoblin.”
Halloween decorations at home were not as intricate as they are today. Most homes consisted of carved pumpkins on the porch. And they were accompanied by grinning skeletons or stuffed scarecrows. Inside our homes paper skeletons or stings of pumpkin lights. And the beloved bowls of candy corn on coffee tables.
The Halloween craze each year began at school with black and orange streamers, paper jack-o-lanterns, and spooky window clings. And then, there were the class parties where we would all parade around school in our costumes and eat cupcakes decorated with plastic spider rings and candy corn. There were even games that still existed like bobbing for apples and pin the nose on the pumpkin. And after all the sugar, the teachers still wanted us all to sit in our desks and be quiet. If you were lucky your school would put on a Halloween event where there was always some type of haunted house in the gym. Communities would also have fall festivals with arts and crafts, games and one thing I always remember was the local Kiwanis Club’s pancake breakfast that is no longer in existence.
Let us also not forget the “Great Candy Scare.” The 80s and 90s peaked with parental concerns about razor blades in apples and poisoned treats. And, yes, our parents checked our treats for such things. The fear led to the rise of “trunk-or-treat” events and parties at community centers offering a perceived “safer” way of celebrating. But the thrill of door-to-door candy collection could never be replaced. At the end of the night, it was customary to dump all your gathered candy into the middle of the floor and begin separating it into piles in order to inventory our candy loot.
Another thing that helped to accentuate the entire Halloween experience were the songs and movies of the time. Michael Jackson’s “Triller” was at every dance. And “The Monster Mash” was the top favorite. Movies such as “Hocus Pocus, “ “The Addams Family,” and “Beetlejuice” were always in rotation. And then for the brave were the low budget movies such as “Halloween” and “A Nightmare on Elm Street” “Friday the 13th” The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” (https://www.that80sdude.com/p/trick-or-treat-a-nostalgic-journey-into-80s-and-90s-halloween, 2024).
I was never allowed to watch those movies. Half of the fun was being able to scream at the television for the intended naked, female actor to RUN! While also screaming, “Don’t go check out the unknown sound, you idiot!”
The major change in this holiday began with the “Satanic Panic” and all out “War on Halloween” which began with conservative Christian groups viewing Halloween as a celebration of the occult and evil. This is when they began the change with alternatives like “Fall Festivals” to discourage participation in the holiday’s perceived demonic themes (https://christopheroxley.substack.com,2024). The panic was about alleged satanic crimes, not the commercialized secular celebration of trick-or-treating and costumes (https://www.cnn.com, 2019). These accusations were largely unfounded, leading to trials, imprisonment, and the destruction of lives with no basis in reality. Christian extremists continue warning people about Halloween being “Satan’s Birthday” which continue to denounce costumes and candy as the gateway to the devil. And they continue to try and convince us to celebrate “Jesus-ween” (https://www.satanictemplewashington.com, 2025).
I, personally, have never sacrificed a goat or a child in a satanic ritual from celebrating Halloween. And starting October 1st every year, I watch horror movies for the entire month. Maybe it’s like the ability to be defiant against restrictions as a minor who grew up in a conservative Christian household. Whatever the reasons, I’ve loved Halloween for the majority of my life. And for many years prior to the development of PTSD from my own trauma, I was a haunted house junkie who went to every “booger house,” haunted maze, and haunted hayride that I could find.
I don’t believe that celebrating this holiday as something that will keep you from entering the kingdom of heaven. I believe that it’s another holiday to make memories as a child or now with my own children. I think that it’s just a holiday of having fun accompanied by fear of the unknown. And for these reasons Halloween will always be something that I celebrate. Thanks for reading. And to you I say, “Happy Halloween!”
Affirmation: I embrace the magic of this season with an open heart.
“It’s all fun and games until someone takes a dart to the eye.”
-Unknown
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. As spring begins to make its mark, I start looking forward to having the cubs come spend some time with me during their spring break. The cold nights are beginning to fade. The hummingbirds start scouting for feeders. And many people take this time to rekindle their relationships with the flowers and gardening.
For many of us winter time leaves us with the attitude of blahhhhhh. It certainly does for me. I enjoy leaving my door open and circulating the fresh cool air. Tink and Coco enjoy both the air and watching the bugs and birds of the season. And the boys enjoy going outside down to the creek and playing with water guns. But what never seems to have a particular season are nerf gun wars. And they show no mercy for their friends and family.
Copeland has a place in my little habitat where he takes his mattress and drags it to the top of wooden shelving about 8 feet off the ground and covered by a curtain where he can enjoy some quiet time away from me and big brother, Marshall. This area has become affectionately known as the “Eagle’s Nest.” He normally has a nerf gun close at hand along with his tablet. Marshall usually has his gaming headphones or talking to online friends. And I’m diamond painting or planning things to do while keeping my ears and eyes open taking it all in.
Everything seems to be going good until Copeland fires a random shot at me from behind the curtain nailing me directly in the eyebrow with a nerf gun bullet. I let out a loud, “Ow!” He laughs hysterically which seems to trigger Marshall’s curiosity. Now they both need and want to be a part of the action. I love my boys dearly. However, at this point, they care nothing about their mom or other bystanders’ need for safety. Those foamed bullets with plastic tips began flying from the barrels of various guns striking me in every area of my body. Nerf Gun War: Game On!
They have gathered every bit of the ammo with the exception of maybe five bullets that are given to me. I have absolutely no protective cover. And they have an entire curtain. And I have been forced to try and pick up the landed bullets while still being shot with perfect aim. They can’t seem to aim clothes perfectly in the clothes basket. Nor can they aim their trash into a garbage can. However, they seem to aim perfectly with nerf guns that can have military snipers shaking in their boots.y
I began to tell myself, “Their childish giggling will make it all worth it.” Soon, though, my entire body is covered in red dots complimentary of hundreds landing shots on my now painful body. I search frantically for cover. Sometimes it’s a roll of toilet paper, towel, blanket or a garbage can. Anything that I can successfully reach, in the moment, becomes a form of cover. And then…I ran out of ammo. I think to myself, “Why didn’t we use protection?!”
I call, “Time Out! I’m out of ammo!” They say, “Ok! Cease fire! Momma needs to get bullets!” I gingerly drop my cover and observe my wounds not knowing if I’m really alive. My eyebrows are now swollen. And the only feeling that I can identify is OUCH! I begin to hear whispers and giggles among the offenders. I look up and Pow! I take another one directly to the middle of my forehead. They break out into total sugar drunken laughter while saying, “We love you, momma!” And I reply, “Stop lying! No you don’t! You just shot me in my nipple!” This makes the entire situation that much funnier to them. I say in my loudest and desperate voice, “I wish you would just eat a large clown turd!” And they continue to laugh hysterically.
As I frantically gather bullets near me and fling them in their general direction, they land a barrage of bullets again, completely crushing my self-confidence in my ability to win as if that was even a remote possibility. I hurriedly run into the middle of the floor gathering more bullets and I take one directly in the butt crack. “Ow!” I painfully scream.
I take my gathered stash that fills the clip that I now have secured in my half working gun. I see my moment while they are making battle plans to get in a cheap shot like the many that my body now shows its evidence. I fire away only for my bullet to land about five feet from my position. They don’t even seem to notice. I fired several more times with the same ferocity. I still don’t even get close to landing a shot. I shout loudly, “This piece of crap gun with no boom!” And my youngest son Copeland laughs harder. I take my remaining bullets and realize my now harsh reality. I have to throw my bullets. They have sabotaged my ability to win this war.
The mayhem eventually dies down. Copeland and whoever else attempting to kill me climbs down out of the “Eagle’s nest” to come look at my battle wounds. They are still laughing and I have a bruised fingernail, swollen elbows, a pulled hamstring, inflamed eyelashes, diminished hearing in my right ear, a runny nose brought on by a direct shot, a burning belly button, red dots up and down my shins, an itchy armpit and farts that sound like a suffering animal needing euthanasia. These wounds I did not have prior to Camp Frat Pad WWIII.
These moments while painful I wouldn’t trade for one minute. I am able to relive my childhood vicariously through my children with some Advil and an ice pack. And for them, it’s just another fun time with momma where we are making memories while they enjoy being kids. To them, it’s not about whether or not I’m gay or straight. Or how much money I have or don’t have. I’m just momma. And I can do nothing but smile. Later, I would cuddle with my “non-expanding recreational foam experts.”
“All is fair in love and Nerf war.”
-Unknown
***Don’t forget to watch the video! Copeland chose the song for this blog.***
“Having children is like living in a frat house – nobody sleeps, everything’s broken, and there’s a lot of throwing up.”
-Ray Romano
Light charcoal. Sprinkle the Sage. Negative energy go away! This next post will hopefully help you understand a little bit better about the relationship between the boys, me and our friends.
At the frat pad, me, the boys and whoever else wants to stop by for a visit are more than welcome. The “Frat Pad” is where we can all check out from reality by having fun and growing in our relationships. The adults can be kids if they want. We do so many cool things like nature walks, silly string war, gel blaster gun wars, water guns, slip n’ slide daytime and nighttime, campfire, roast marshmallow, fireworks, forts, bridges, playing in the creek, farting, nerf gun wars, burping, bathroom humor, swimming, movie nights, homemade ice cream and meals with friends, water gun wars, feeding and observing the wildlife.
We also have serious discussions about life. Currently, one of the biggest sources of entertainment is the topic of puberty. Another main attraction is that we feed a little snack on the porch to the local wildlife. And we enjoy watching every minute of it from inside in the ”safe zone” area in the house.
Good friends, good family and lots of fun is what “Camp Frat Pad” is all about. I let kids be kids and do what some aren’t allowed to do such as Staying up all night Which they never make it to sunlight o’ clock. And sometimes they eat ice cream and leftover cold pizza for breakfast. Of course, there’s always “Tink” and “Coco” who enjoy being the supervisory onlookers. And subsequently getting some much-needed attention from their crazy friends and brothers.
The times when they come for a visit, and I mean the very minute they enter my house. It’s Instantly transformed into a college frat house party. We talk, swim and do many other things. The boys’ main goal is to eat as much as their bodies can tolerate. And to play until they collapse. The goal is to let them and teach them to love and to appreciate being children.
They begin eating like starving feral dogs. There is a lot of bathroom humor. Copeland loves to be out in the woods with his beloved rubber boots. Before I bought him the boots, He would accidentally on purpose get his shoes wet playing by the creek.
Me: One day I was frustrated and said, “this house looks like a fraternity house!
Copeland asks “mom, what’s that?”
Me: “I tell them both, “when you go to college most places have houses where they drink a lot of alcohol and do some “whack-a-do things. They are called fraternity houses. Where only guys live. The times where I’ve gone to parties are loud and the houses are completely trashed. By the time you go back home my house looks like a comfortable place for squatters.
Copeland: “Cool momma! Can we have our own fraternity house?”
Me: “Of course. What would you like to name our fraternity house?”
Copeland: “I don’t know. I need your assistance coming up with a name.”
Me: “Well, how about if we try to come up with a name that has “Frat” in it?”
Copeland: “Ok. But Momma, what is another name for a house?”
Me: “A Pad.”
Copeland: “So it’s a frat pad?”
Me: “What if we called it “Camp Frat Pad?”
Copeland: “Perfect! Yay, I love Camp Frat Pad!”
Me: “Ok. At fraternity houses you must be accepted into the club before you can live there.”
Copeland: “How about at the frat pad anyone can be accepted if they need friends or if they want to place with toys, Xbox, and have snacks. The exception is not really sleeping here because we don’t have much room. If they’re adults that can sit by the fire and talk with you, Mrs. Robyn and Ms. Shelby?“
Me: “That’s a great idea, son! But what about in the summertime when it’s hot?”
Copeland: “They can come swimming with us. And then when we go back home you can get some pizza. And the adults can stay inside and talk where it’s air conditioned. DUH!!!!”
Me: “And if we don’t’ go back swimming that evening what would yall like to do?”
Copeland: “That’s simple. Make some homemade ice cream and we can play outside until its ready.”
Me: “What would yall play at night?”
Copeland: “We could play either Slip N’ Slide. Or a water gun war. Or a game that you can teach us. Mom, trust me we can find something to do. But we will be hungry again. Playing makes you hungry, you know.”
Me: “What do you think a good motto would be?”
Copeland: “A what?”
Me: “A motto.”
Copland: “What is that?”
Me: “It’s like a statement that makes up what Camp Frat Pad is all about.”
Copeland: “hmmmm…. I’m thinking.”
Me: “Think about what I allow you to do within boundaries.”
Copeland: “Something like when it rained a lot and you let me walk around in my boots and playing in the water?”
Me: “Exactly!” I knew what was about to say.
Copeland: “How about ‘Where everyone can be their self and have fun!”
Me: Copeland that is perfect!
So that, my friends, is what makes Camp Frat Pad so special! With the hustle and bustle of life and school sometimes you just need to take time out to enjoy and reignite the simple pleasures of life. There is nothing like sitting with your friends, roasting marshmallows, building bridges in the creek and hearing about how rude your older brother’s puberty is affecting little brother.
Thank you so much for reading this blog! Start from the beginning and experience the peaks and valleys with us.
“Some frat houses have a story. We have a legend.”
This Puzzled Life 