OK, I paid a visit to my mother this afternoon. It was our normal, nice visit. We sat in her room watching Judge Hatchet. There was a case where a woman told her now grown daughter when she was 11 that the man she thought was her father probably wasn't.

As you can imagine that put quite a rift between the daughter and her "father". They began to distance themselves over the ensuing years.

Fast forward 15 years and their relationship was quite strained. Judge Hatchet ordered a DNA test because neither party was 100% sure of the paternity. The test was done and low and behold the man actually was the father!

My mother turns to me and says, "Myrna told Peter that Janet wasn't his daughter. She told Janet who her real father was."

The power of speech escaped me for a good 5 minutes. I just sat there trying to gather my thoughts and force my mouth to work. Some background, Peter is my uncle (my mother's brother) and Myrna is his now ex wife and Janet is their oldest daughter.

Janet is now 34 years old and this revelation was made 5 years ago when Myrna and Peter's divorce became final.

"Are you kidding me?" was all I muster up.

"I'm serious as a heart attack."

I responded, "I can't freaking believe this."

What would possess someone to knowingly lie about their child's paternity then spill the beans almost 30 years later?

This is some Jerry Springer shit.

How many of you remember your first day of school? Kindergarten? First grade? Pre school? I never attended pre school or kindergarten. My mother thought I was too small to be allowed to go to school. Not over protective at all was she, huh? Forget that I was old enough and smart enough to attend school with all my young peers, I was left at home simply because I was "too small". Whatever. lol

Anyway, now I am 5 years old and HAVE to go to school so now it's the first day and my mother gets me all dressed and looking simply adorable and ushers me into the car and off we go.

Mind you, I have no idea what to expect this day. I'm just following instructions. We arrive at this strange large building with a million doors and windows. We were led into the auditorium with all the other kids and parents. After we find a seat my mother leaves to go home. WTF? She told me before she left to listen out for my name and follow the nice lady that calls it. Fine. I can do that. I sat in that auditorium for hours and never once heard my name.

After all the other kids had been called by their new teachers and they were off to their classes I still sat in that auditorium ....waiting. One really sweet lady with a very kind looking face approached me to figure out where I needed to be and get me there. "Hey honey, what's your name"

"Diva." I answered (Yeah...that's what I said...lol)

"Well honey, do you know your teachers' name?"

"No."

"OK, follow me. Do you remember who your kindergarten teacher was?"

"No." I responded still not fully understanding what was happening.

So, in her attempt to locate my proper home we visit every kindergarten teacher to see if either of them recognized me which of course no one did. I follow her back to the office and she instructs me to have a seat just outside the door while see tries to figure this out. A moment later she comes out of her office and exclaims, "I found where you need to go. You are in Ms. Bass class. Come with me sweetheart." So off we go again in search of my home and once we arrived at Ms. Bass's class there I found my place. I was happy to belong somewhere.

Well the remainder of the day goes just fine as expected, the school bell rings and FREEDOM. We are dismissed to go home. We all run for the door and search for the familiar faces of our parents. Everyone seemed to have had a waiting parent to whisk them home.....except me. I looked and looked. No mom. I walk through the school yard toward the sidewalk, look down the street, then up the street, no mom. OK by now I begin to worry just a little. I started to feel my mom had forgotten about me.

I turn around and walk back to the stairs of the building where my class had just let out and sit on the steps, just waiting. I remember fighting back tears and feelings of abandonment began to wash over me.

My teacher opened the door, stepped out, ready to make her way home for the day and sees me sitting there. "Hey sweetie, your mom isn't here?" she says as she shuts the buildings' door behind her.

"No" I ink out between sniffles.

"Well I'm sure she'll be here, We'll just sit here for a minute and wait for her." And then this wonderful woman sat next to me on the stairs and attempted to distract me. Just then I heard a screeching of car tires, I look up and see my mothers car barreling down the street and then coming to a screeching halt right in front of the school. I had never been so glad to see that woman in my life.

I said good by to my angelic teacher, jumped off the steps and ran to the car. I get in and she begins to explain how the school let out early and she had no idea until later and she was so sorry.

That was my first day of school...just like any other first day. Do you rememeber your first day?

There was recently a story on one of the national news programs that spotlighted a woman who was adopted at birth and her desire to locate her birth parents in an effort to save her sick son by uncovering pertinent family medical history.

After some investigation on her part and with the aid of a professional she located her birth mother. Unfortunately, the birth mother's current husband and children never knew she had this child some 40 years ago and she preferred to keep it that way.

With the pending laws that are being passed in various states, with Maine being the first, sometime in the near future, agencies will begin opening adoption records. Something as simple as a written letter will put individuals that much closer to their birth parents.

This is a double edged sword. There are millions of adopted people that would love....need... to know their birth parents but are terribly afraid of rejection. Imagine the hurt and pain you'd feel after building up the courage to locate this person only to have them reject you, I couldn't even fathom.

Then there is the parents' point of view. There are many extenuating circumstances that would force a person to give up their child. Often times it is the most selfless act a person can perform.

But imagine, just for a minute that you were a very young person, possibly a teenager. You were in no condition to care for a child so you made the ultimate sacrifice to give this child up for adoption in hopes that you are giving them a chance at a wonderful life.

Many years have passed and you have gotten your life in order, grown up and have a family of your very own. Because you were so young and this event happened so many years ago in your past you thought it would never touch your "new" life so you don't mentioned it ever again to anyone.

Fast forward 40 years later and you receive a phone call from the past. You would have an awful lot of explaining to do. What do you do? Turn this person away who has been desperately trying to find you or do you take your grown up pill and tell your family of your past?

I'm not sure if you all remember my saying so but I am a technical trainer. Have been for many years now and I love it. I get to encounter many different people and it's always a hoot.

Well, I had a class recently teaching at the local community college. It's a side gig I do from time to time. Anyway, the students were filing in one by one and I was greeting each of them and getting set up.

It was time for class and I was about to begin my welcome spiel when all of a sudden I began hearing this very subtle high pitch, piercing ringing sound. It's one of those sounds where you hear it but can not pin point the origin.

I couldn't take this disruption so I asked the class, "Do you all hear that piercing sound?"

The gentleman right in front of me in the front row uttered the following statement, "Oh, I'm sorry, it's my hearing aid." and he reached up to his right ear and began making an adjustment and the ringing stopped.

Oops!

I felt like such a heel.

Hello everyone. I have an announcement to make. Is this mic on? Ok, here we go, my name is Tee aka Diva’s Thoughts and I have irrational fears. Yes, I know you think I am this wonderful, together person, (*snicker*) but I, my friends, have a couple of very irrational fears I must confess.

First, growing up, as a child M*A*S*H* was a popular TV show and it would come on at around 11:30 pm. (Shout out to Loretta Swift and Alan Alda) For some reason I would do my best to avoid this show or at least the beginning of it when the theme song would play. Why you ask? Because for some reason I found this theme song VERY unsettling. Ok, I was scared of the damn song, Ok????

If for some reason I fell asleep on the floor in front of the TV and woke up just in time to hear that theme song I would become totally unglued. You know what though, all these years growing up I thought I was the only person in the world that was afraid of a damn theme song but one of my close friends also informed me she was also afraid of the M*A*S*H* theme song! Imagine that! You know what that means? She’s as much of a freak as I am. Yeah “K” I’m talking about you! lol

Another fear I have is striking a match or “flicking a Bic”. For some reason lighters and matches scare the bejesus out of me. Maybe I’m afraid of getting burned, I don’t know.

The only things I know is keep that damn M*A*S*H* theme song and matches away from me! I’m serious.

Yeah, I know I'm a freak but I'm alright with that.

We ladies know just how hard it is to find a hairdresser we like. We have to endure endless horrific haircuts and disastrous dye jobs until we meet the one and only that is meant for us.

Well, ladies and gentleman, I have finally found the one for me and she is fabulous! I think I'm in love. I know she feels it too. When I leave her chair my hair is bouncing and behaving and I am ecstatic.

Oh my dear hairstylist...I've waited many years to find you...oh yes. Now that I have I will never let you go. NEVER I say. I see a long and lasting relationship in our future.

Do you think she'd be willing to move in with me so that she could do my hair every morning before work? Hmmmm? Oh well, just a thought.

J if you are reading this please realize from where my love is coming....before you my hair was limp and lifeless and quite dull. You've brought sheen and life back to it and for that I will be eternally grateful. After you, there could be no other. Your room is waiting.

I did a post awhile ago asking who do we blog for, this post deals with the type of blogger we are. Why do we choose to blog in the fashion we do. For example, I am a "personal blogger" because I like reading and sharing aspect of personal life.

Sure, I could blog about the plight of certain socio-economic groups in the US, I could blog about race relations, the political process, the fact that we in the US are in a recession even though "the powers to be" don't want to admit it but I figure you can pick up any newspaper or watch any news program on TV and hear all about these subjects.

I find it fascinating to read snippets of your lives. I feel privileged that you let me in, even if just a little.

I, in turn, find it far more interesting to also write about parts of my life. We learn about each other, different cultures and customs, different countries. I find it amazing.

Sure, there are celebrity bloggers and fashion bloggers and news bloggers and so forth but it's something quite special about "personal bloggers".

I was talking on the phone yesterday with an old co-worker turned friend. It was a brief conversation as many of them with her are but enlightening nonetheless. 2 ½ years ago when I met "D" we became fast buddies. I found her interesting and funny.

During the course of my working at this company an unfortunate event transpired that landed her boyfriend in jail. It took her quite sometime to admit that to me but once she did I was not surprised. I had surmised as much by snippets of conversations we had about him. Now she is the type of woman that will stand by her man regardless just as I am so it was no surprise that she is her man's most staunch supporter in his efforts to be released.

Fast forward 2 ½ years later and this man is still in jail and "D" is still fiercely trying to gain his release. She is still by his side, in the trenches fighting right along side him. This is where she and I part company.

See, if my man was falsely accused of a crime then I would be the first in line trying to obtain the best lawyers and fighting with everything in me, never giving up on him. BUT, let The Analyst go to jail on some dumb shit like robbing someone or selling drugs and his stupid ass would stay in that jail…alone.

That might sound harsh but I just can't condone committing senseless crimes like that. I just can't. They both had good jobs so I can't fathom a reason for the crime for which he was convicted. I refuse to put my life on hold for such madness. "D" has, essentially put her entire life on hold these past 2 ½ years.

I'm sorry but that couldn't be me. Would you stand by your mate for 2 ½ years or more while they are in jail?

I was reading a post on This Journey 's blog and it sparked a memory......a terrifying memory. One that still rocks my very core. A memory of me screaming like a little wuss.

Any one that knows me knows that I am absolutely terrified of creatures of any kind except for dogs, get to large and they’d be on my list too. It stems all the way back to my earliest memories as a child. If a large dog or a cat or God forbid a mouse get too close to me I loose my freaking mind.

Fast forward to about 6 years ago. I was living in a really cute one bedroom apartment in a really nice community. I lived there for 5 years and loved it right up until I started wanting to drop kick each of my neighbors right in the forehead. As the years went on, apparently “the wrong element” began to move into our close knit community unbeknownst to me.

Fortunately for me, my lease was up for renewal and I had a major decision to make; stay in that apartment for another year or woman up and buy a house. I pondered that decision for several weeks.

One quiet evening at home while watching TV, minding my own business I noticed this large grey furry “thing” scurry across the floor along the perimeter of the far dining room wall.

OK, first my eyes got wide as I processed what I had just seen. ‘I know I didn’t just see a…It couldn’t have been a…..OH MY GOD, IT WAS A MOUSE!!!!’

I screamed (continuously) like a freaking little girl. I screamed then I screamed some more. I then I got the bright idea that if I made noise maybe he would stay out of sight so I grabbed two wooden objects from the coffee table and began banging them together and humming loudly and rocking back and forth very reminiscent of Helen Keller. I stopped long enough to call my boyfriend from my cell phone sitting next to me (thank goodness because there was no way I was getting off that couch) then continued with the banging, humming and rocking for the next solid hour it took for the BF to get over there and rescue me never once leaving that couch. I swear if anyone had seen me they would have bet money I was psychotic.

He used his key to enter, looked over at me humming, banging and rocking back and forth and said, in the most loving way possible, "What the hell??" I made him walk me to my bedroom to grab some clothes so that I could stay at his place for a few days.

I stayed gone for 3 days.

I don’t play. Oh yeah baby, the house buying decision was made that night.