PLZFAN Trouble Queen Of Dark Angels's blog: "ATTENTION PLEASE!! ~ FRIENDS OF DJ POISON"

Well, at nearly 38 years of age, I can FINALLY admit, I don’t have answers for everything. I just…don’t. And sometimes, I don’t even have a clue about it. Whatever “it” may be. Im not as smart as I thought I was after all. And that’s all you get, those three confessions of me ever being wrong. But, its all true.
Let’s rewind life a bit, to better understand how this came about, me just now finding out that for sure, I really don’t know all the answers. I had guessed a time or two that I could be wrong, but was later proven wrong by the right fate. And I have no shame in admitting, I am a tad bit Naive. And simply DO NOT have all of the answers. 

When I was a little girl, living the straight up Laura Engall’s life, on my little prairie, out in the country, I had my ma and pa. My “sisters” (no, really I was an only child, which only intensified my vast Knowledge base of all things to be known. I got all the attention) 
Anyway, Ma and Pa. no Mary or Carrie, but I had My cousins. I had my Willies and Albert’s. I even had an Uncle Edward’s. 

Life was SO simple. I woke up every day, in a happy almost always, healthy, well fed, balanced SHELTERED world. My biggest obstacle was climbing back up that giant rock in the creek bank, once I rolled in mud. And my most tragic days in life, were when while playing euchre and drinking some beer, my parents and their party friends, thought it would be cool for my crawdad to tip back a tall one with them. They wanted to see how it swam after it was drunk or something. Don’t ask me. I was like 7. I do know my drunken crawdad had a killer hangover after they laughed at it for hours, so bad actually, it woke up dead. Ohmygod. Life was horrible. I was so mad. I don’t think I ever actually got over that. Im mad now.

And when my best friend for life Raidar the beagle dog died. I was 17 then. He became my best friend when I was 5. I remember it like yesterday. That was a bad day.

Other than those kinds of silly reasons, MY HOME, was never EVER unsafe. Unsecure. Unloved. Or Scary. I only got scared when it involved vivid dreams of soap box rides into outer space with no return. Or a snake at the creek, Godzilla sized comes at me and I wake up for real right before it swallows my head! 
I once heard when you wake up in a panic like that, from falling in your dream or whatever, that if you hadn’t woke up at that EXACT second, means you died. For real. No joke, in your dream, whatever bad that was happening that you woke up from…Happened. And in real life, you saw it happen in your dream….right before you stopped breathing. You died.

So glad I always woke up.

In my house on the prairie, with my Ma and Pa, I had it TOO good, I sometimes often think. 
TOO GOOD as a child? Yes.
Don’t judge, I think there is such a thing actually.
Hear me out.
Nothing BAD ever happened. Never. My parents took care of EVERYTHING. If it was bad, they took care of it. Above anything in life, they sheltered me from evil. I was never in harms way, and I rarely saw anything inappropriate. I never wanted for anything. Ever. My momma cooked. Boy did she cook. We grew our own food. We canned, we gathered, we even at times raised our food ( still hate deer, and miss that pig poor Mable. They ate her.) We had HUGE memorable gatherings, I STILL hear about as an adult. My momma helped everybody. There was always another kid around. I was their only baby, yes..but they took in ALL the kids.
My momma took care of ME. And my daddy. My momma took care of my daddy so well, so he could provide. He worked. He worked HARD. That man worked A LOT. He still works hard. 
But every single free second he had not working, he spent playing with me. Building me snow forts so big, they had rooms and lasted until April. He carried me on his back, he taught me all of the things a girl needs to know, like how to change a flat, and check my oil. 
And when mom wasn’t feeling well and he had to go to the grocery for her, I always went. She had self-control. Dad, not so much. He spoiled me like crazy. No? It wasn’t something he said to me very often. My daddy was my hero. 
Because my momma gave him that opportunity to be. My momma took care of HIM, so he could take care of me. 
And when I ever had a question, my mom knew the answer. She knew what Goldilocks was going to do, BEFORE she did it. How? She knew why the grass was green. And she knew how to make EVERYTHING. If it needed sewed, she knew how. If it needed patches (YES, we patched holes back in the day. We threw nothing away) my momma knew how to do it. She knew how to make me feel better when I was sick. She knew EVERYTHING. 
She either been there or done it, or knew someone who had. Me and my momma were friends. But my daddy, he was the Hero. If I needed money, daddy. If my toy broke, daddy. Actually “broken” didn’t exist. If it broke, MY DADDY fixed it. My daddy fixed broken hearts and broken pet cages. My daddy fixed my cars, he fixed my dreams, he fixed the image in my head, of what a MAN should be. My daddy NEVER said never and did things like save my life, more than once. Saving my life when I was 6 was fixing the broken chain on my tire swing. My daddy fixed my mom when she broke, cause if it were left to him to feed us, we ate eggs. He’d spoon hot butter on top of them, so he didn’t have to flip them and break them. Deep fried eggs. He was a pro. It was like that for my entire childhood, the entire thing. It never changed. I was safe, I was secure, and never unsure of anything, or my tomorrows. 
And, I knew it all. If I didn’t know, I would ask mom. And my mom knew the answer, and if perhaps she didn’t, she would wait for my dad to figure it out if she couldn’t. My dad could fix it. She even waited on him to get home when I wouldn’t listen. His dirty looks were as bad as a beating. I hated it when shed tattle on me. It always worked like that.
I remember…the innocence of my daily life as a kid, so vividly. Nothing BAD ever happened. And daddy always fixed everything.
My parents led a path for me in life. It was an honest, generous, hardworking, loving, honest (yes I know its twice listed), meaningful, journey thru the important years. I couldn’t be more grateful for today. They crossed the path of honesty and character at least a million times. I think there is a mountain of honesty out there somewhere in this world, named Tim. A lie is a lie, no matter how you word it. If you say you will be home @ 10, and you aren’t. You lied. Which makes me a chronic liar to date, I never really got that punctuation thing down so good. God, he was hard.
But he and mom, had all the answers.