Judge and Jury

Published April 24, 2016 by thewickedwitofthewest

Beginning this post, I was counting on the assumption that most people who read my blog are Moms…….  Yet I sit here thinking and realize that’s not always the case, and that my current thoughts are incredibly applicable to everyone, not just those of us who are parents!

I might as well come right out and say it.  There are not many ways in which I can mince words at this point.  Few ways where I may be held less accountable for my actions, or less responsible for my private thoughts which I am about to make much less private.

I am a judge.  I have never passed a bar exam, nor have I attended law school, yet somewhere along the way I decided to allow myself the privilege and honor to judge others.  It’s an honor that I have enjoyed, as I’ve lived in my imaginary castle on Unicorn Island and cast judgement on anyone and everyone whom I don’t agree with.  My judgement flows freely and fairly, in the sense that no one is exempt.  There is no doubt that I am an equal opportunity judge and that my credentials are irrelevant when it comes to my personal opinions of various people and questionable situations.

Until that day that I wasn’t anymore.

I have never hidden the fact that my life has been a challenge.  A perfect storm of drama and humor.  A plethora of “you can’t make this $hit up” moments.   My life would have damned near been a comedy if it weren’t for the few stoic moments that it wasn’t.

Never have I been a proud person.  If anything, I’ve been the opposite.  Don’t misread me.  My children are amazing.  My family is amazing.  However, when it comes down to a deep and personal pride, I am always close, yet waiting for the next train.  Waiting for the next accomplishment, or kudos, or thing to go right.  Waiting for something that I love or believe in to pull me on board and convince me that my life is on the right track and that I should be boastful!

In talking with more and more people, I don’t feel as alone in these thoughts.  We live in a day and age where the fight to “win” is futile and our successes are based more and more on things that often tease from a realm of satisfaction just outside our control.  An uncertainty based on the events of the day and a poll from the audience, more than on the actual facts of the case.  Or given situation.

While I welcome a contradiction, it is my belief that any single one of us tends to judge other people.  Even the most understanding or holiest of us all.  Not a single one of us has been in a restaurant, or library, or grocery store when we haven’t questioned someone else’s life situation.

This is a day and age where not only fellow parents, but fellow humans should be building each other up.  A time in life that is soon to be etched in history.  A time where situations will make us or break us.  A chance to either build each other up, or tear each other down.

My most recent judgemental situation was this past weekend and I remain less than proud.  At the time, I was at a movie with my youngest daughter when a mom came in with her children.  There were 7 kids with her.  Maybe they were all hers…… Maybe they were her grand children.  Maybe they weren’t either of the above.  In hindsight, we are talking about a lady who was brave enough to bring 7 kids to see The Jungle Book, by herself!!!!   Should any of us care whose kids they were?!?!?

I watched and judged as this lady settled her children and whispered to them all to “Be good” as she left to buy them snacks.  I cringed and damned near rolled my eyes when she walked away.  I allowed myself to “flash back” to the last time I attempted to see a child’s movie and overheard a parent warn their kids to be good.  It was ‘The Lion King’ in 3D a few years ago and it’s possible that my expectations were abnormally high!

Meanwhile, as I’m re-visiting my one life-altering Lion King drama, the mom mentioned above returned with her kids snacks.  As I’m sitting in my seat, trying desperately to steady myself up on that high horse of mine, I realized a few things.

One.  That lady with the grey, disheveled hair, had more patience than I could ever dream to have!!  Right about the time that I’m telling my kids they’re “cruisin’ for a bruisin'” or prepping them to eat a proverbial “knuckle sandwich”, I realize that this mom is oozing a patience that I haven’t known in years!

Secondly, as a bystander, I realize the joy she shows just to be there with these kids.  Whether they are hers, or her grandkids, or a strangers kids off the street, it is obvious that she is thrilled to be there with them.  As she snaps pics of them on her cell phone, I realize that her smile is about to burst through the seems of the theater.  A smile I have rarely seen.  An expression of genuine love and happiness.  A smile that brought tears to my eyes.

So perhaps, if maybe for just a moment we are able to suspend our everyday judgements, we may allow ourselves a chance to witness joys intended by a Universe otherwise reluctant to smile.  Maybe we all need to take a step back and just head-nod and acknowledge all the other people we know who struggle to get by!  Like is a struggle and while we may not all agree, we are all in the same boat!   We all deserve to be built up and not torn down!  That is not a political statement.  That is a life skill.  That is common human decency.  If our country has lost that, then we are screwed far further than which future president may or may not screw us.   How about we all just be nice?!?



To My Husband And His Girlfriend

Published April 12, 2016 by thewickedwitofthewest

It’s been so long since I’ve blogged that I fear I’ve forgotten how!  It’s true that I may not have forgotten my sense of sarcasm, or where exactly to place the most emphatic quotation marks, yet in general, I’ve forgotten.  I no longer recall how and where to add pictures of my adorable kids in all the right places, or even how to change my background from a dreaded holiday one to one that shouts of Springtime and positive vibes!  I have always been a victim of peer pressure, and now I pay the price!  Stuck in a blog-imposed, proverbial Winter wonderland.

I have done much soul searching the last several months, and have learned so much not only about my marriage (or lack thereof!) but about myself!  This blog is dedicated to my husband and his girlfriend, but deep-down is really a release of many pent up emotions, and hopefully serves as an inspiration to many who face similar decisions!

Dear Jerry and Cheryl,

Please, by all means, allow me to begin this letter with a declaration of my heartfelt congratulations!!!   It truly takes a special kind of selfish, and an epic kind of stupid for you two to endure all you’ve endured these pasts few years to “come out on top”!   Now, by “come out on top”, I definitely mean coming out with each other, which tends to leave all sorts to the imagination!  I’m not one to speculate, but I’ve heard maybe Cheryl doesn’t always come out on top.  Maybe she doesn’t always come out on the bottom?  Maybe she’s a dude.  Who am I to question?!?!?  To each their own!  All for one and one for him too!!!

Seriously, I don’t mean to start this out on the wrong foot, or forehead.  Or whatever else she’s sporting from her skull.  I think it’s a forehead?  Maybe a fivehead?   Maybe six?    I don’t know.

Here’s what I DO know.  Scientists recommend keeping that appendage out of direct sunlight at all times, and moisturizing at every possible opportunity.   The passport and certificate to travel belonging to said forehead can be found in my husbands back pocket, which is where her head has spent most of it’s time.

Enough of my poking fun!  I’m sure you two do enough of that!  Who could resist?!?!  Honestly!  If I lived with the pillsbury dough-boy I’d do nothing but make that boy squeal all day long!!   Girl.  Boy.  Girl.  Boy.  Again, whatever sex she’s going with these days!!!

I realize you two have some speculation as to who may raise (my) our children.  Allow me to clear that up for you!  There is a greater chance that purple, flying, Justin Beiber, boy-band loving, look-alike monkeys will come swooping in on hot pink guitars and monkey shit-drop you our divorce papers, than you will ever have at raising our children.

There is a greater chance Pee Wee Herman may raise our children, circa ‘Big Top Pee Wee’.  And when you get there, all strung out and looking for our kids……. be sure and tell them Large Marge sent ya!   Good Morning Mr. Breakfast!!!

As for Cheryl…….   Dear, man-faced, decpeptive Cheryl.   You should know that I hold no ill-will.  The fact that I found all the e-mails tonight in which my husband paid you ficticiously from his business in an attempt to hide income from me…….  It’s just water under the bridge.  I’m sure that as always in your life, you’re just an innocent victim!  But just to be sure, I should definitely forward all those invoices to your current employer and ex husband.  Just to make sure you’re not taken advantage of!!  It’s truly the least that I can do!  I’m sure it won’t effect your child support in any way!  You being such a class act and all!

I can not begin to explain all the ways that my blood could boil and curdle in the near future, but I know that I am no one without either of you.  If only I had a lying, dude-like parental figure to guide me through this time of heart-ache.  I will fall asleep tonight with my poster of Woody Harrelson tucked in my old spice-fading, armpit and pray that somehow I wake up in the morning free from the mask-like symptoms that woody-syndrome plagues me with!!!  I will take tylenol and pray to be free of this whore-induced fever that blinds me from contact with you skanks.

I pray to spare my children from this horrific influenza that has cursed my space for far too long!

I wish you two happiness in all that you do, and hope peace is found in your world.  I also hope you two figure out which one is the dude and who is the chick!  Obviously Jerry has been out of the closet longer, but there is something to be said for the perfection that can sometimes emerge from a locked closet!

Nothing but the best you assholes!!   Mwahhhh!!!!!!








Santa and the Angels

Published December 24, 2013 by thewickedwitofthewest

Tonight I lay my buggies down and watch them try to sleep,
I rub their arms and kiss their cheeks, yet quietly I weep.

Tonight’s the night that Santa comes, I’m sure he’s on his way.
For all who may believe in him, are presents on his sleigh.

I think of children near and far who only have one dream
That Santa bring their loved ones back, amongst his faithful team.

The reindeer flying high and strong, no obstacles in sight
may be toting passengers, on Christmas’ magic night.

Santa flies escorted, without a doubt in mind
by those who’ve gone before us, and those who’ve been so kind.

The ones who’ve lived right here on earth and sadly had to go
find comfort in the effort, of guiding Santa through the snow.

Magic fills our hearts tonight, a night we all believe
nothing is impossible and nothing shall we grieve.

I think of little girls, who lost their Daddy on this day
in an act of tragedy, yet in the most heroic way.

Santa’s been across the world, and now their town is near
and in the morning magic’s come, and Daddy has been here.

Angels Wear Turn-out Gear

Published December 23, 2013 by thewickedwitofthewest

west webster

I see many friends reflecting tonight, and rightfully so. Tomorrow will turn the calendar on one year. One year since our community and our brotherhood, past present and future was forever changed. Reflection varies from person to person, and by definition alone, it should. Christmas Eve shall forever be a day of mourning for many, a day to “pay it forward” for others, and for most of us, a day that our ears will be tweaked to the airwaves, listening to and analyzing every call for help. While statistically there must be a handful of people out there, I can say in certainty that I don’t personally know a single person who won’t be “remembering” tomorrow.

We hear of tragedy on the news nearly daily. Line of duty deaths across the board. Police, Fire, EMS. Soldiers killed overseas. Sadly, it’s almost at the point where we EXPECT it. We anticipate tragedy, and we are hardened to it. Every life is valued and mourned, yet it is common to “move on” and return to business as usual when they are “other peoples” tragedies. Christmas Eve in West Webster, NY 2012 was OUR tragedy. They were OUR people, our brothers, friends, co-workers and family. Perspective defined.

For me, I’ll never forget tossing and turning that morning, half asleep, and hearing dispatch directing units to stage for the “West Webster Incident”. It sounded odd, but I was half asleep after all. I distinctly remember blindly grabbing for my phone on the nightstand to check the time and finding that I had numerous text messages. Things such as “Are you up?”, “Are you listening to the scanner?”, “Do you know what’s going on?”. Immediately my heart sank, knowing in my gut that the world as I and “we” knew it must have shifted on it’s axis.

It didn’t take long to figure out the gist of what was going on, although it was still early and details were uncertain. Statistically, in communities such as Rochester and it’s suburbs, the odds are good that most first responders know each other, or at the very least know OF each other. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. The moments of wondering who was down and the moment of reality when it hit you that the WHO wasn’t the point. Loved ones were down. That’s the truth in public service. Whether the macho want to admit it or not, there is love. Blind and unconditional love.

I’ve never been so grateful for a return text from Big in my life, even the short “can’t talk,call later, I’m okay”. It was a relief. “My person” was okay. But the truth is, they were and are all “my people” in one way or another. Chip and Tomasz were “our people”. Joe and Ted are “our people”.

That afternoon my family was scheduled to ring the bell for the Salvation Army at our local supermarket. I was determined to follow through despite the random onslaught of tears that continually plagued me throughout the day. Being a small community, it was inevitable to run into firefighters I knew, and tears flowed each time I met eyes with any of them. Both mine and theirs. Words unspoken, grief shared.

As we all remember and choose to reflect on that unspeakable tragedy in different and unique ways, I force myself to focus on the positive energy I have seen born from the flames of a horrific day. I do that because in knowing what I know of Chip and Tomasz, I think that is what they would want. They lived and died serving the community they loved, and doing a job they felt “called” to do.

Not only the citizens of West Webster, but people across the WORLD rallied to show support both to their families and their department. Communities continue to do so. Every time a fire department places a West Webster sticker on a piece of new apparatus, Chip and Tomasz are remembered. At ceremonies, banquets, concerts, and parades, they are remembered. Most importantly they are and will be remembered amongst friends and family. Always talked about, never forgotten, and more than likely riding along in one way or another to every call, looking over their brothers and sisters in West Webster. They have earned their angels wings, and wear them under their turn-out gear in Heaven, I have no doubt. God Bless.

ff prayer2

A little 9/11 reflection

Published September 11, 2013 by thewickedwitofthewest


I was asked this morning what I might be planning to post in my semi-regular, always sarcastic, guaranteed to make myself look like an idiot ‘So What Wednesday’ post. Truth is, I can’t bring myself to participate today, as it all seems somewhat trivial when the events of September 11, 2001 weigh so heavily on my mind. That’s not to say that I didn’t have some pretty epic failures this week which I am fully prepared to vent about, so definitely tune back in another time.

Today, I don’t feel sarcastic, or funny, or really much of anything other than sad. I want to cry watching 9/11 videos that friends have posted on facebook, and I want to throat-punch the people posting pinterest cartoons, goofy pics of themselves, and about their dirt-bag boyfriends. Guess what? If he’s a dirt-bag today, I’m willing to bet he’ll still be one tomorrow. As far as I’m concerned, today should be a day of reflection.

It saddens me to hear radio stations carry on as though today is just another day, playing that stupid Miley Cyrus twerking song every 20 minutes, rather than toning it down and showing some respect. Kudos to WBEE in Rochester for their thoughtful coverage and moments of silence during the morning show. Classy as always.

I realize that at some point life continues, people forget, memories dull, and sadness fades. I’m not there yet and quite frankly, I pray I never am. I want to remember. As painful as 9/11 was for our nation, the people lost that day or consequently because of that day, deserve our remembrance as reverently now just as much as they always have.

Without addressing politics or even voicing my opinions, what I will say is that in the weeks and months following September 11th, I felt an indelible pride in our country. I sat watching then President Bush address our nation time after time, offering us reassurance and I truly could FEEL such pride and emotion in my heart. I think it’s safe to say that most of us did, whether you’re a fan of Bush or not. During those first few months, race mattered less, social class seemed unimportant, and we were all truly bonded. I’m sad that I no longer have that feeling.

To this day, I hate randomly looking at the clock and seeing that it’s 9:11, or 3:43. I hate receiving text messages at those times and immediately delete them, no matter who they’re from.
While attending a 9/11 memorial ceremony this morning, I even had to turn and walk away from the display that was playing dispatch feed of firefighters responding to Ground Zero. I’m still so incredibly overwhelmed with memories, fear, and sadness.

This has become lengthier than I had planned, so I leave you with this:

This morning my 7 year old honey-badger came downstairs and was asking questions about 9/11. She wanted to know why I was sad, and caught me watching a memorial video on youtube. We’ve briefly discussed it before, but I’m never quite sure how much is appropriate to say, so I typically wait for her questions and answer as honestly and gently as I can. This morning’s convo went as follows:

HB: “Mommy, is today the day that makes you sad? You think about the day the planes flew into the buildings?”
Me: “Yes. It makes Mommy sad, but YOU make me happy!”
HB: “Was it an accident that they flew into the buildings?”
Me: “Well, no. People from another country who don’t like Americans did it on purpose”
HB: (looking broken hearted and gently shaking her head, quietly whispers:) “Those assholes”

A Letter To My Daughter’s Teachers on the First Day of School!

Published September 4, 2013 by thewickedwitofthewest


Dear Teachers,

As yet another school year commences, I feel the need to touch base with you both, wish you a $hit-ton of good luck (which has been established as an actual unit of measurement in my world), and let you know how appreciative I am of all that you do for my daughters!

Allow me to predict how today MAY go down. First off, it’s Faith’s birthday. Poor kiddo. Having a birthday on the first day of school? It almost seems cruel. You may notice that she did not bring cupcakes and organic juice pouches with cute little napkins that cost me $47.00 at Target. Long about noon you’ll realize that I’m not dropping anything off either! She may feign sadness at the travesty, however don’t let Scammer fool you. She is insistent that only ‘certain’ cupcakes will do, and they are ‘certain cupcakes’ that are made by a baker in Buffalo! With your permission, she would like to bring the cupcakes of gold (or oreo, depending on how you look at it!) in on Friday which is the soonest said treasure can be delivered!

Emily is going to arrive and tell you that she doesn’t have her Summer homework with her because she left it on vacation. Cough…. cough…. bull$hit! She doesn’t have her Summer homework because she’s nervous to turn in the work she’s done. She’s nervous to share the thoughts and feelings expressed in her essays, and she is afraid to set herself up for failure and judgement on the first day of school. Please go easy on her. Please allow her to spend the day getting to know you better and realize on her own that she has nothing to worry about. My best pep-talks and encouragement were not producing nearly the result that I’m sure she’ll achieve today just by being in your classroom! And what the heck kind of 5th grade homework was that anyway?!? Write about your feelings!? Feelings, shmeelings. I’m 34 and uncomfortable talking about my feelings. Although I joke, I do thank you. Thank you for making my daughter stop and think this Summer about who she wants to be and how she wants to be remembered by her classmates. I’m grateful for a teacher who desires my daughter to grow as a person and not just as a student.

Faith may or may not remind you that she’s ‘The Honey Badger’. PLEASE DON’T for ANY reason ask her WHY she is called the honey badger. Despite a Summer’s worth of conditioning, you STILL may hear that it’s because honey-badgers don’t “give a $hit”. She doesn’t. Which is probably why she’d tell you that. For your viewing pleasure, you can check out the Honey-Badger below. Hence my 7 year old. 😉



Both girls packed their own lunches, so I’ll give you the run-down of what you “may” see. Pickles, radishes, left-over sauerkraut, cold pulled pork, rolls with butter, quinoa, and I’m willing to bet that Faith has a gigantic piece of tiramisu. She probably also has grapes in her pocket. Not only is she a scammer, but also a pack-rat. 😉

I’d like to apologize for the shoes Faith is wearing. Despite having new “back to school” shoes, she is still hooked on her Summer sandals. If she takes them off to change into sneakers for the playground, please be forewarned. The coroner is NOT needed. Cadaver dogs are not required. It’s just those God-awful sandals. They smell like a dead animal, mixed in manure, rolled around in the aviary at the zoo. Sorry for that! Cheers!

In all seriousness, I realize that these silly little stories are magnified for each of you times 20 or so. I could NEVER do your jobs and I want you to know how grateful I am for the care and love you show my children for more than half their waking hours 5 days a week. I realize that your job is not done when school is out at 3:30 and that you’re often to school far ahead of the children. I realize that other people’s kids are brats, as my own can occasionally be at times, and I admire the patience and fairness you exhibit even when you want to throat punch a kid. I’d have whiny little Johnny crying so fast and his head spinning like a Chucky Doll if I were a teacher. You’re both stronger people than I am.




With that said, I can promise you this: I promise to show my children the love and guidance at home that will allow them to be strong in school. I promise to instill strong values and raise them to be kind and outgoing. On the same token, if for some reason they are UNKIND, I vow to deal with them accordingly. I promise to support your rulings and decisions at home and if I have a question, to bring it up with you privately. As far as my children are concerned, you’ll have my unconditional support and backing. I promise to be patient with you if you don’t respond to me immediately, and to remind myself that you have 20 minions and not just two!

Have a great first day with Petey and The Honey-Badger, and again, I’m super sorry about those sandals!



So WHAT! Wednesday 9/4/2013

Published September 4, 2013 by thewickedwitofthewest



Typically I team up with Shannon at ‘Life After I Dew’ and participate in her ‘So What Wednesday’ post! I’m not sure if she’s doing that today, as she appears to be way too busy for all of us. Having a new baby and all. AS IF!!!! Shannon, I’m totally kidding! Little man is adorable! 😉 Today I’m chiming in with ‘SWW’ and hoping Shannon gets a laugh whether she’s able to post or not!! This week I’m saying “SO WHAT” to the following:

So WHAT that it’s Wednesday and I say “Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike” too much?!? I LOVE that commercial and it’s still new to me! I only discovered it a few weeks ago. With that said, “Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike! What day is it, Mike?” 😉

So what that Wegmans dropped their Seasonal Price Freeze lists. Are you effing $hitting me Danny?!?!? Where the EFF am I supposed to find chicken at a $1.99/lb NOW?!?!?! This sounds like a job for Alec Baldwin. After that little performance with the Paparazzi last week and his clear support of his Mother’s favorite store, I think this would be a great cause for him to advocate!! Let’s hear it, Alec. Wegmans customers want $1.99/lb chicken back! How about a little boxing match? Alec Baldwin vs. Danny Wegman? Alec wins, we get $1.99/lb chicken for life. Danny wins and he can raise the prices right meow! Chicken f*cker! (sorry Mom, it’s a Super Troopers reference). We could sell tickets to the event and buy chicken with the profits! Only at the sale price though. Ain’t nobody got time to pay market value for chicken. I can’t be the only one who has thought of this? Bueller? Bueller?




raw chicken


So WHAT that I almost punched someone in the throat at Target yesterday and it wasn’t a Thursday. Listen lady, 10 items or less means 10 items or less. I don’t care how thick your glasses were or how cute your dog wearing the “help vest” was. If he was so helpful, he would have let you know you had 43 items in the fast lane! Move it or lose it, we’ve all got places to be!

So WHAT that I was called racist in my last blog post about Brenda Hardaway, Rochester NY’s most recent a$$-ache. Listen. The bottom line is this: I love and I hate equally. I don’t judge people! Also, when I judge people the last thing I think about is the color of their skin. I am basically only wondering if there is any chance their story will make my friends laugh. Brenda made it easy. I would have posted the same exact blog if she were white and THEN what would people be complaining about? It amuses me that the negative feedback I received was nearly 100% related to race. Yet I’M the racist? Ohhhhhhh kay.

So WHAT that “eminent domain” is part of the Fifth Amendment??? It’s government condoned theft is what it is. You think I’m playing around? Research it….. then click this link and read about what is happening to a local farm right here in Rochester NY! No Farms, no food. It’s a simple concept. We’ve got Rochester churches up in arms about the “mistreatment” (BS) of Ms. Hardaway, while instead maybe a few of those churches should rally for the Krenzer Farm! Funny to think of the amendments that have been “amended” (ie: TAKEN AWAY) over the years, yet eminent domain remains.

So WHAT that my daughter told me today that I never take her anywhere fun! THAT is complete and total nonsense! Just this past weekend we went to a great lunch at a local brewery! I even let her order off the adult menu. I guess Pumpkin Ale just isn’t her thing. Good thing we got this great picture that she can share with her therapist someday:





So What that I allowed my daughter to take my camera with her when she visited a farm with her Grandpa this weekend and THIS is what she came back with?!?!? I will keep this photo forever and put it into every album as the last photo, titled “The End”. 😉



With that said, until next time my friends,
The End.