I finished my first story. I call it just a story for now. I’ve given it to two people to review. One person is reviewing for plot line thoroughness and the other is reading for content because it’s their age group. 

I feel proud of what I’ve written but I feel there could be more for it. While I’m waiting for feedback, I’m trying to decide how I’d like to proceed to publish. I have a friend that has strictly self published. I have a cousin that has published with a publisher. Both have told me theirs is the best route, but they both write in a different genre than I do. So I’m not sure which I would see the most success. 

Also while I’m waiting, I’m working on another of my stories. It’s the same main genre, but it is a different secondary genre. I write young adult stories. The one I finished is a bit of fantasy because it’s focused around ghosts. The other one is a suspense. I also wrote with a different person with these two stories.

I tend to give my main characters to females which is the case with these stories I’m talking about. I worry with the success of characters like Katniss Everdeen and Tris, my stories will be looked at with distain since there’s been a flood of strong evolving females. 

I’ll write my character’s stories whether others like them or not. If I didn’t, they would drive me even more crazy than I already am. As long as I’m writing they only whisper; otherwise they are nearly yelling at me or disrupting my sleep. 

Time to get back to the many things that keep me busy. 



In my job, I work on scientific instruments that go down a hole to determine if there is oil, gas or water. When repairing these tools, I have been known to get cut or nicked to the point I bleed a little. Because the company I work for is a global one, I have the potential to work on tools from around the world.

This all being said, I have donated my DNA to many tools. These tools have been many places my body has not. But technically I can say I’ve traveled the world via my DNA.

This epiphany came to me because we had to evaluate equipment from an off-shore unit that was on a barge that got stuck on some rocks in Alaska. I’ve worked on the tools that went up there. So even though I’d love to visit there, I really have already been.

The Broiler of Hell warming up!

Last year I moved from the area of the country we loved.  It had four real seasons most years.  Though not all winters produced much snow and not all summers were super hot, it was a nice mix.  Because I found a job that would potentially provide for my family, I packed everyone up to move south.  Last summer I came up with a phrase that described summer here; the broiler of hell!  This week, we are having, according to our local weatherman, unseasonably hot AND cold temperatures.  That is to say, the beginning is going to be hot, the broiler warming up, and the end of the week, we’ve been crammed back into the refrigerator.

I state all this to say that last year, we had problems with our A/C unit.  It had to be charged twice in one summer.  That means there’s a problem.  Since I chose to rent a place, because it’s easier to get out of a lease rather than sell a house, our landlord is showing his true colors and approaching slum lord status.  He said to us that when it cooled down, he would have the unit serviced.  One month ago, I reminded him that it still hadn’t been done, and that warmer temperatures were upon us.  So the weekend before last, he sent his nephew, who he sends out all the time for our A/C unit because that’s what his day job is, to look at it.  The idiot brought a stop leak type of substance and more freon.  This did nothing.  He said he would be back in a week to look at it.  Well, last weekend he came and informed us that we needed a new unit.

Guess what assholes?!?!?  It’s the broiler of hell warming up.  The average inside temperature of my house is over 80 degrees Fahrenheit.  That’s not optimal.  We folks from the above the Mason-Dixon line don’t like it hot.  We keep our inside about 70-71 degrees in the summer.  I’ll pay the high electric bill.  I don’t want to sweat the minute I get out of the shower.

So now we are enduring awful heat until our landlord figures out which way is up and gets us a new A/C unit.  I am on the verge of going native on his ass!  I know he has it nice and cool at his house.  He wouldn’t let his children face this kind of cruelty, but thinks it’s okay for mine.

That’s all for now.  I’ll get off my soapbox for a bit while I try and cool down.  I wonder if an entire human body can fit inside the refrigerator and not spoil the milk?

Our C-og

My goal has already faltered because I have been sick this week. It’s amazing how vast amounts of stress can tear your body up. The main stressor for me is my bill paying job’s instability. But this morning I witnessed a real funny that must be shared.

7 years ago I brought home a cute little kitten to play with my then 2 year old fat cat. Over the years this cat has become my 13 year old’s best friend. We now think of him as our C-og, cat/dog.

At night when she goes to bed, the 13 year old whistles and snaps her fingers to have her cat, Biscuit, follow her to bed. It’s funny to watch his fat butt waddle to her and follow like a lost puppy.

This morning he was caught pulling a wash rag from the edge of the laundry hamper. He started chewing on it like a dog. The wash rag was not wet, but had been put there to dry the previous morning. So, I can’t imagine it was anything he was attracted to.

Biscuit has never like cat treats, but debating on getting some dog treats since he acts like a dog. I have even caught him licking my curtains. They are lace and he doesn’t even tear them. I’m amazed.

So, who needs cable when you have a C-og in your house?


When I decided to start this blog, I wanted to write about my quirky family and the humor I find in the silly things we do. But this past week has been anything but silly. My 13 year old daughter’s best friend passed away from brain and spine cancer. Losing Abbi was like losing a member of my own family. And how can I teach my daughter how to deal with her death when I am not sure how I deal with it myself.

I tell her the old adage that time heals all wounds. I don’t think it heals really, just numbs. I find that talking about it helps, so I’ve shared that with her. I just worry about how this will impact her future. Will she be able to laugh without feeling guilty about it?

Getting Started

I have decided finally to try blogging as a means to overcoming writer’s block.  I have been writing stories and poems since I was 8 years old.  I’ve been fearful of sharing my work because it was stolen once when I was part of a “community” many years ago.  It pissed me off and I felt I could never share again.

I chose the title of Overwhelmed Crazy Mom because that describes me in three short words.  I am the sole provider for a family of 5.  I have a wonderful husband who hasn’t been able to work because of a back injury that occurred 9 years ago.  I have four daughters.  My oldest is already living on her own.  I work full time and I go to school online fulltime and I am a wife and mother full time.  I never thought I would have four full time jobs.  And to top it all off, I want to fulfill my dream of being a writer.

I was once published.  ~ if you could call it that ~  I submitted a poem to one of those websites that was having a contest.  I got literature from them saying they were publishing my poem in a book.  I could have the book at the low, low price of $39.99.  Ha Ha!  I shared my poem with my dad and he loved it.  He framed it on his desk.  I felt proud.

I cannot say that I’m any good, but I have the heart of a good writer.  I believe in my own stuff.  I practice good grammar and spelling when I write.  ~  though if you ever heard me speak; you’d never know it ~

So I covered the overwhelmed part and the mom part, how, do you ask, am I crazy?  Well for me that’s simple, I do not fit into any mold.  I do things my way even though it pisses off my husband.  I make strange decisions and choices.  For example, my husband and I have been together nearly 16 years.  We have lived in over twenty residences.  Each time a move occurred, I was firmly sure it was the right choice and our LAST move.  ~ I’m always proven wrong at some point. ~  I even left a job making good money because I was suffering from post-partum depression and didn’t know it at the time.  Oh, I was so pissed at myself when I came to my senses!  Now I’m trudging along trying to do right by the 3 girls I have at home and my husband who just can’t help but love me.