So Far so Good

By Justyn Credible

In this humorous, inspirational story of Rhonda’s antics, failures, and ultimate understanding of who she was meant to be, the author’s wit and Rhonda’s character come to life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Oct 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781504386722

Justyn Credible

Cooking is Justyn’s therapy; she never makes the same recipe twice. She loves exploring thrift stores and garage sales. Tennis and hiking are her favorite types of exercise. The love of her life is spending time with her boys, ages 8 to 74.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 Justyn Credible.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Cover Illustration made by Scott Steinhoff

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-8671-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-8673-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-8672-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017913540

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/26/2018

CONTENTS

Mens Rea (Evil Thoughts)

I. Graceless Girl

Bad Luck Is Going To Shine On Rhonda

Rhonda Was A Girl With Issues

I Feel Pretty, Oh So Pretty

Clothes Can Make The Girl

Any Dummy Can Spell

Fourscore And A Zillion Years Ago

The Houses

Our House Is A Very Very Fine House….Not

House Two

Sister Butchie

Sister Mandy

Rhonda And Mandy

An Early Life Lesson

Introduction Of Brother Pete

Take Me Out To The Ballgame Or Bring The Ballgame To Me

The Life Of A Little Leaguer

Summers Of Garage Sales

Billy Graham Versus Cincinnati Reds

House Three

House Four Living The American Dream

The Rhorers’ Holidays Or Lack Thereof

More School Stuff

The Dad

The Mother

Mother’s True Love

Meals At The Rhorers

There Was Something Strange In The Neighborhood

We Are Now Up To House Five

Mother’s Vision

The Rats In The Window House

Grandma And Grandpa

Down On Main Street

Mr. Cancer Comes Knocking

Mandy’s Senior Year And Graduation

Last Call For The House In A Small Town

The Final House

Rhonda The Scholar (No Way)

The Beginning Of The End

Rhonda Bargaining With God

Money Hemorrhage

Mother’s Funeral

Mother’s Dead, Now What

You’ll Be Sorry

Rhonda Goes To College

Mandy’s Accident

Graduate School

Working, Graduate School And A New Born

Like Turds Churning In A Pot So Goes The Days Of Rhonda’s Life Chronicles Of An Ass Wiper

Stayed Too Long At The Dance

She Works Hard For The Money

Daddy’s Death

Daddy’s Funeral

Hoarder Or Collector

That Crazy Ass Man Thing

Job

Getting A Redo

It’s The Little Things

Rhonda’s Yes

Palo Alto Bound

Afterwards

Have Faith

God And Nobodies

God And Gps

Conclusion

Notes To Mandy

Acknowledgements

I am not a writer, but I do tell stories. They usually revolve around my dysfunctional family and children of all ages, but not necessarily biological (I include most men that I am forced to have any contact with as boys). There’s also my work environment. I am definitely an underachiever but at this stage in my life climbing a corporate ladder, or any type of ladder is the last thing that I want to do. In other words, I just stayed in my comfort zone.

I wanted to write like John Boy in the Waltons, but there was no loving family, no supporting parents, grandparents or siblings.

Knowing that I could not mirror a Lake Wobegon either, I did take Garrison Keillor’s advice and tried to write at the same time every day in the same place.

I soon discovered that beer, dark Belgian beer helped the thought process and coupled that with dark chocolate, again Belgian, I kept at it, the writing part and the chocolate beer floats. I should have chosen the time of day for writing more wisely, but hey, it’s 5:00 o’clock somewhere.

MENS REA

(EVIL THOUGHTS)

T HE DAY I started writing this story I was super sizing wallowing in self-pity. Whoa was me. Nobody knew the troubles I had seen. There were no opportunities of windows and doors opening for me. The windows had been painted shut, and the doors stuck due to humidity. Making lemonade with my hardened lemons would be impossible. Black cats, walking under ladders, opening umbrellas indoors were positives for me. Bad luck was going to shine on me. If there was dog poop or gum, I was stepping in it.

What is your story about? my boss asked. Is it a story with observations, opinions, life lessons, faith, what? Yes was my reply. He then said, Do not make it about sad stories. But someone already wrote Cinderella.

Kurt Vonnegut said, Write to please one person. His one person was his sister.

My one person is my sister, Mandy.

The story is a timepiece of Rhonda’s journey. There are days when she is non-existent. Other days she is taking bites out of or eating a whole crap sandwich. Occasionally, she gets dessert and to make it even sweeter she gets whipped cream.

I.

GRACELESS GIRL

Y OU ALWAYS WERE an awkward kid the uncle told Rhonda at the family reunion. Thanks, good to see you too Rhonda thought. The uncle was right. She was an awkward kid and would remain so. Telling her uncle that she could not drive a stick prompted the awkward comment.

Perhaps he was remembering that she broke her two front teeth slipping on a raisin, got them fixed and broke them again attempting to ride a bike.

Maybe it was the fact that no matter how hard she tried, she could not skip, jump rope, nor could she catch or throw a ball.

The one and only Christmas gift Rhonda received one year was a baton. Her twirling resulted in ornaments disappearing from the tree.

Methylate was Rhonda’s best friend in grade school. The parents should have bought stock in the stuff or at the very least, Band-Aids.

Rhonda was awkward in getting in and out of cars. Tonya, a sometimes junior high school walking buddy told Rhonda, You do not stick your head in a car first. Men can see down your dress. "But there would not have been anything to see; and, that was how grandma got in and out of cars. However, Tonya seemed to know things.

The Eagles wrote songs about Tonya’s type. She could open doors with just a smile. Tonya wore low cut blouses, as low cut as she could get away with at school. Her skirts were as short as her blouses were low.

Rhonda could not dance. Her dad had said dancing was a sin so no big deal there.

Rhonda never learned to swim. She took swimming lessons five times throughout her lifetime. She would hear Oh I can teach anybody to swim. Guess she was not anybody. Eventually, the instructors would tell her just to play in the water, or do whatever but, stay in the shallow end.

Rhonda played the cello well as long as she played solo. She never finished at the same time as everyone else. Maybe her fourth-grade teacher was right when she wrote on Rhonda’s report card Does not work well with others.

The mother said, Driver’s education was out of the question.

Rhonda played softball but not by choice. Her mother forced her to play. Rhonda made the best bench sitter and water girl.

Wearing high heels would be the same as walking on black ice.

Rhonda’s favorite color to wear was black. She chose never to wear white.

She knew that just by walking across the room she would somehow get something on whatever she was wearing.

If the girl ever married, she would have to determine which color of dress would show the least amount of stains or spots.

Rhonda’s sunglasses would have a lifespan of one week, and that would not be from losing them.

Potential employers offering food or drink during an interview; Rhonda would take a pass. She thought it was a trap. Would she be judged from what she ate, how much she ate or would she just wear her food?

Sitting next to Rhonda in a restaurant would be considered risky.

No lighted candles would appear on a Rhonda cake.

She was in a play once; rehearsal had to stop because Rhonda slipped on stage, hit her head on a table and gave herself a concussion.

At work, Rhonda would go through approximately six office staplers a year. Other times the staples or paper cuts would get her.

Rhonda’s excessive use of white out should have resulted in a misdemeanor charge.

Her family removed all sharp scissors, knives and those cool torches for making Crème Brule from her kitchen.

The hot glue gun mysteriously disappeared as well.

Good thing that Rhonda was never sick. She could never open the child-proof medication bottles.

Rhonda would avoid buying certain food in the grocery stores knowing where the package said open here that it would not be opening for her.

Yogurt containers would explode for Rhonda.

The pull plastic ring for opening milk cartons, forget that.

Rhonda passed up a random of stores altogether when shopping for fear of knocking things off the shelves or injuring other people with or without her cart.

Swiping cards for checkout or using thumbprints for identification must have been a wrist thing. Rhonda did not have it.

Universal Studios gave Rhonda a pass on the thumbprint thing. Showing her ID worked for them. The people in line behind her were getting impatient.

Rhonda never made anything in Home Economics sewing class. She had no clue how to thread the sewing machine.

She noted that her food always looked different than everybody else’s in Home Economics cooking class. The recipe said twelve biscuits. She would have an odd looking number of seven. Her take on it, It’s supposed to be that way.

The attendants at the carwash knew Rhonda. He or she would be standing at the end of the wash with her hubcap.

If Rhonda had never been aware of being awkward or uncoordinated, it became crystal clear while in junior high gym. It was hell on earth. She thought jumping a horse meant a live animal. It did not make any difference. The teacher told her to skip the horse thing.

Thanks to the spotters standing around the trampoline.

When it came time for gymnastics, the majority of the class would be standing on their head in conversation. Rhonda was attempting to stand on her head with the use of the wall. The gym teacher ran over and said, If you can do somersaults, I will pass you. (Anything to get this girl out of her class without breaking her neck). Rhonda managed two pathetic sideway somersaults.

As an adult, Rhonda took beginners tennis several times. The instructor told her she need not practice her serves, just bounce the ball to get it over.

Rhonda made herself black and blue from hitting herself with the racquet.

When she could finally hit the ball over the net and in the appropriate court, it would be a home run more times than not. Later, after practice, she would be searching for the tennis balls in or near the creek on the other side of the tennis courts.

Rhonda’s driveway was four car lengths. The detached one car garage was at the end of the driveway. The first six months in her new house Rhonda refused to park in the garage. Not only was she claustrophobic, but also concerned about having to back out when she had enough trouble driving straight in regular traffic. GPS for her meant going to piss someone off today.

Rhonda backed out for that first time down the driveway and was then headed straight to the auto paint aisle to try and match the color of her car. She had not taken into account the side steps to her house, nor the adorable birdy night lights along the driveway.

Rhonda could get lost crossing the street for a bottle of water.

She hiked the Grand Canyon once; had trained for months hiking the local parks with five-pound bags of sugar and flour in her backpack. The first day in the Canyon, Rhonda fell head first down the trail.

Someone once told her that her tombstone should read wasn’t a gentle girl.

Her siblings believed her clumsiness was on purpose.

Rhonda was beginning to think that maybe she had been dropped on her head at birth and perhaps there was some neurological problem which would explain her lack of coordination skills.

BAD LUCK IS GOING TO SHINE ON RHONDA

R HONDA CONSIDERED HERSELF Ms. Lucky.

She wondered if she had been Ziggy or related to him in another life.

Red was not the best color of car for Rhonda. The first red car she owned was a Nova. It was a dead car when Rhonda bought it. She had the Nova restored, turning it into a Classic. The day the last repair was done, the car was totaled.

The second red car was the only car that Rhonda bought new. She owned it for two months, and it disappeared. Rhonda believed the bank repossessed her car as a result of making a late car payment (two days late). She would have paid on time, but an officer stopped Rhonda for expired plates, gave her a ticket, and told her he was nice not to tow her car. She spent her entire paycheck for a ridiculous fee to get plates. Rhonda felt ashamed and embarrassed to tell anyone. Finally, she confessed to a neighbor, but only because she needed the use of a phone, which was not in her budget. The neighbor said, I don’t think the bank came and got your car, I think someone else did. Later, Rhonda noticed Merry Christmas spray painted on her house. The thief then proceeded to total the car by crashing it into a house two blocks down the street.

The police questioned Rhonda over and over wanting to know who she was protecting. What was her boyfriend’s name, etc. Lying would only get her into further trouble.

Nobody of authority believed Rhonda. Her insurance carrier along with the police set up a polygraph for Rhonda to prove her innocence. She passed the polygraph. The next day the insurance company advised Rhonda that they were dropping her.

A few weeks pass, and a witness comes forward.

The third red car should have been yellow. It was a sinkhole for Rhonda from day one.

Someone broke into her lemon car at work. Why couldn’t this car have been stolen she thought. She would have been out from under all the accumulating repairs.

The break-in occurred on the coldest day of the year, five days before Christmas. So much for the car alarm working, and so much for the alleged security cameras in the work garage operating.

Rhonda is the first to call herself an idiot on the break-in. She left her purse in the car while she went into work for forty-five minutes. Rhonda was carrying a huge stack of files and thought she would put her purse under the seat of the passenger side of the car. Someone must have seen her.

The police station is straight across from Rhonda’s work. She called them not once but twice, and no one came. On a fluke, she saw a police officer going into a restaurant next to her building. Rhonda ran out to snag him. He made a report, said there was nothing that he could do. He and his staff searched the premises and came up empty handed. Rhonda searched, and lo and behold; she found her purse on top of the trash can on the first floor of the garage where Rhonda had parked. Glad to see the cities finest were on the job. Her credit cards, gift cards, driver’s license, checkbook, and money were gone. Within thirty minutes of stealing, the thief had done quite well for himself.

The next two years Rhonda experienced being a victim of identity theft.

She learned that there are sympathetic retailers out there and then there are others that don’t care if one eats dirt and die, they just want their money and will go to any length to collect it. A retailer called Rhonda every single day for two years demanding $125.00 from her. Rhonda asked her, How do you sleep at night doing what you do every day, harassing innocent people. The woman’s reply was I sleep very well and enjoy what I do.

Rhonda loved horses. She had never been horseback riding. A state park would be the place for allegedly docile horses her friend told her. It would be like a pony ride. Six broken ribs later, Rhonda realized these horses, at least her horse, Rosco, was not docile. He was eighth in line and chose not to follow the first seven horses trotting down a new trail. Rosco thought he would take off and run the old path. Rhonda saw the low hanging tree branch but a little too late.

Rhonda learned the hard way that the Cincinnati airport is not in Cincinnati (before Google and internet days). Missing her flight, Rhonda leaned against a brick post while waiting for the airport staff to give her instructions on what she should do. A fire extinguisher had been improperly mounted that day on the post. The unsecured extinguisher fell on Rhonda’s foot. No