HEY!

I spent a chunk of Saturday evening and yesterday reading ugly, ugly things about ay) me personally and bee) the KKR project. The people involved were obviously big doody-covered assplunderers looking for something/someone to target and had little to no social skills or reading comprehension capabilities whatsoever obviously not read the entry on my site about the project; they'd found a blurb elsewhere and ran with it, no background info needed, champ!

"How do I handle this?" says I, to myself. Funny how that got answered.

I am a person with a fierce, fierce temper. My sense of rage is so finely honed and so wonderfully accurate when I aim it at someone that you'd think the sucker was laser sighted. I peel back scalps, people, and I laugh like a crazyperson while I do it. Then I holler "Who's NEXT??"

Every now and again somebody (or a silly group of somebodies, as was the case here) will step all over themselves to bait me, not really realizing the type of person that they are dealing with. When I am on your side, then you can smile ear to ear, because I am loyal to a fault and tenacious in the defense of those to whom I take a shine. When you are on the other side (whatever that side may be), however, you are well and truly fucked....especially if you come out swinging. I'm pretty much a live and let live kinda gal. You poke me, and I may just stir a bit. Then again, I may leap with claws and fangs bared and geez-oh-Pete you better be wearing cast iron panties because I'm gonna grab you by the ass-end and shake once or ten times.

So I was faced with a choice: I could craft a witty rejoinder that obliterates the offending party because I have three brain cells and they haven't just recently migrated in from my butt (as seems to be the case with the charming folk I am speaking of), or I could make my genteel Southern Momma proud by smiling and nodding and continuing to serve the actual guests rather than the spiteful party crashers that blundered in, picking their scabs and farting noisily. The latter is because, dears, it is a well-known fact that you can always whip out the shotgun after matters at hand have been attended to. Plus, certain finger foods should be served fresh or not at all.

Anyway, I chose to do the former rather than the latter because right now I am about doing what's right, not being right and any energies scattered toward the naysayers is energy that is being pulled away from KKR, which is taking up a lot of that aformentioned energy. Plus, as my pal and interwebnet legal counsel Delmer Skeets McGee is wont to remind me, arguing on the internet is futile: Even if you win, you still look like a big ole boob. Everyone knows that Cyberia exists for looking at boobs, rather than behaving like a boob. Even the people that pretend like it's for other things know that!

So back to how that got answered. I was sitting on the loveseat next to my dear Maxim, telling him about my day and explaining how I'd been called everything but a white woman by some people snuggled comfortably behind their monitors. Piper, who doubles as our eldest daughter and our first foster child (and maybe adoptee! but I digress and there will be more on that later), had wandered in during this conversation and was patiently waiting to ask her dad something while I was telling him these things.

She grew red-faced and angry, her jaw dropping with incredulity.

"I CANNOT BE!LIEVE! SOMEONE IS GIVING YOU CRAP FOR WANTING TO GIVE TOYS TO LITTLE KIDS.

"If I lost BJ, I'd bawl like a baby, and I'm nearly sixteen! He's been everywhere with me!"

That cinched it. No more energy expended on the baddies, because Piper reminded me of how special her token bear is to her as he was with her during the difficult transitions in her life and there are a mess of kids out there who no longer have their 'special things'.

I intend to replace them. How about you help get that done? We'll start with a batch of one-hundred and fifty children twenty minutes from here and work our way outward from there, okay? There's a donation button there to your left. Easy-speasy, kids.

pee ess...A BUS! Someone stepped up and offered their bus for transport so that we don't have to take the three vans. A BUS, WOOOO!