It Is A Wonderful Life

It was still warm outside and humid, so she sat in the car for a bit with the air conditioner running. She looked down to check her cell phone and dozed off. That 17 hour shift really made her feel all of her 50 years and then some.  She closed her eyes. All was tranquil. Peaceful…She remembered looking up at the stars for a bit before checking the phone.

She isn’t sure how long she slept but suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard her son cry out, “Mom!”

She looked up and said, “What?!”

“Mom, you scared the shit out of me! I thought you were dead! I mean it! I’ve talked to you for five minutes and you didn’t hear a thing and I saw my world crashing down!” he said.

“Sorry…Just had a long day–”

“I know Mom, but that really scared the living shit out of me! You need to get to bed.” he said, as he ran his hand through his long, black hair.  She saw the concern in her son’s eyes. They had started to well up. Then he calmed down.

She didn’t argue…She merely got out of the car, crawled into her bed and cratered once again.

It was then that she began to think…In an instant the lives of those around her could have changed forever.  She is sure that is what he was thinking as well.  However it doesn’t change the fact that working long hours are a part of her life. It doesn’t change the fact that she loves and cares for everyone around her.  However, at this moment, she does wonder how her absence would affect their lives, but since she saw her son’s first reaction, she had come up with  an  interesting thought.

The only film that addresses how the absence of one from the lives of loved ones affected family members  was only addressed effectively by the movie called “It’s a Wonderful Life“.

Well, it may not be Christmas. The woman may have her troubles at the moment.  However it is a wonderful life.  Things will get better–health-wise and in other areas.

Her hope is that it gets better for some of her friends who are having some issues of their own as well. She looked out over the Brazos River last week and said to the 4 winds, “Be with them and guide their way.”  She left it at that for the moment. And now she is going to rest her tired eyes once again.

Have a good evening.

Brazos River, TX

Brazos River, TX

We Aren’t Born Free…Women, ‘Tis All An Illusion (or Bullshit)….

Warning: This post contains adult language. If you are an adult, then you’ll have to deal with it (mostly the word “bullshit”). Once again, I’ve gotten into an all time, funk–aka one of my bullshit moods. It is within this realm that anything might emit from my pen or keyboard–and this is not  (pause here)  “The Twilight Zone” so even I do go off into left field on this particular venting session, it is hopefully a lapse into a temporary case of posterior cranial rectumitis…If so, I’ll be back to my normal bright and bouncy self in a few days, hopping around like Tigger on steroids…Maybe it would sound like this–then again, maybe not… 😉  By the way both the sped up and slowed down versions are on here!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rek6ZL9tHYk

We begin in confinement.  We begin in a very small place, that adjusts with us as we grow.  We wait to break free,  It is warm, solitary and quiet there, and then we’re sent into another form of confinement–with strange voices, bright as hell lights and we freeze our ass off until we’re sent to our new quarters. No one understands us there either, so they learn to communicate with us by trial and error, and as we haven’t yet realized that we are as humans truly born astride a grave (as Beckett says), they eventually learn to interpret what certain cries mean and such… We are then confined in a home, sometimes full of love, sometimes not. That depends on those charged with protecting and guarding over us.  Some shield us from the fighting and such. Others take no thought at harming us by acting out their anger.  Others actually love and care for one another, so the confinement seems more like a safe, secure place with perks and such…That is, until we assert our own individuality. God forbid we do that!

We have to be carbon copies and if not, all the arrows become pointed at us:  “I didn’t raise you to be that way!”, “You should never have had that kid!”, or better yet, “I don’t care what your parents say, I’m all you’ve got and you’ll damned well do what I want you to do!”  That last line did not work very well with one of the matrons my dad brought home either. That was when the riot began.  It was more like a strike.  Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose and sometimes winning doesn’t seem worth it in the end.  In my case, I still question it.  However the fourteen year old I was, who had to endure much torture in that cell, didn’t–at least not until well after she was grown.

Then more of those “what if’s” crept in to antagonize her a bit… Those “what if’s” from our past are only pictures of former cells we were locked into, but if we have a place to escape to, even if for a little while, the cells we spend our lives in and out of are much more bearable. I for one, am glad that I am getting older. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I sure as hell don’t want to see what this world is going to be in the next 50 years.  Why? It will only get worse. People become more selfish with each passing generation and want to control everyone around them–thus making neighborhoods and such “mini-prisons” all in the name of what they hold to be “valuable” and it is not always their property, but they are really trying to force their way of life on other people. It really is to the point that where when someone says to me, “We are born free…” I strongly object to that.  We are not free when rules and such of one segment of society are forced upon the rest. I find it ironic that we have to fight to maintain our individuality as artists and such because someone says, “Oh…this is what is marketable.” OR “That is what is correct to say.”  That’s bullshit.  It is what they want to market to keep others from exercising critical thinking skills.

They have conformed and they want the audience to conform to their own way of thinking, and that is manipulation, which I also feel is bullshit. Quite frankly, this whole idea of the “world community/village” is bullshit.  There will always be leaders fighting and arguing over who will control this bitch of an orb, and if people are dumb enough to allow it, then it is their own fault when their children and grandchildren suffer for their lack of foresight.  It is always about what people and their leaders want HERE AND NOW and that is where the problem lies. This world is so riddled with problems and complications it cannot be corrected in OUR lifetime so what have we done? Passed the bullshit on to our children and grandchildren to deal with. Welcome to the world, where we aren’t born free…and probably never will be again. THAT is what the media fails to tell you all.  And hopefully tomorrow, I’ll be my bright and cheery self again and will be proven wrong, but it may take a week…Or two…or three. I just really got peeved at this article below and it set off a chain reaction in me…As a woman, this is only a reminder to what I feel is true, at least tonight…Here’s your “war on women“, Alice

http://jezebel.com/yale-officially-declares-nonconsensual-sex-not-that-b-988475927 And a lot of our leaders have come from that University…That should really piss you off.

And I do like the one below!

 

What Will it Take? Too Many Kids Die from This…

People need to watch this and PLEASE share it! So many kids die in hot cars…Having lost a child due to a miscarriage years ago, this made me cry buckets tonight. Get your Kleenex. People who are this careless make me angry to this day.  I know people who are struggling to have children who would never dream of doing this to ANY child. Maybe this will make a young mother think twice about locking her kid(s) in a car to just “run in for a few things”.

Many toddlers die from vehicular heat stroke,  people….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNDWN8KDVSM#at=370

 

Remembering the Monster (Part II)

It is  funny how when a child goes through abuse in the home, they feel that they did something wrong, or they said something to piss the abusive parent off.  However sometimes the abuser reveals the real reason for singling out the child. It is a lesson I know very well because it was taught to my abuser as well.

I am referring to my late stepmother.  As cruel as she was and as evil as she could be, I learned some lessons about her that did enable me to forgive what she did.  Does that mean that from time to time the shadows don’t try to creep up and remind me through nightmares and such? Absolutely not.

I remember well how I slept with the lights on after she killed herself with that same pistol she waived at my head–and sometimes she went further–she would actually put the barrel to my head, and I can remember how cold it felt to this day.  Often she revealed my existence as her reasoning behind her resentment of my presence in the family. The bottom line is, I stood up to her once I got older.

I find it also funny that when growing up, one thinks this is actually normal crap to deal with day after day.  Once she took her own life, and the shock of her death subsided, along with my self-loathing thinking it was my fault she did it, I began to get around ‘normal families“…You know–the ones where both parents didn’t fight and they actually had meals together at the table like we did before my parents split?

However, back to my point…She would tell me things her mother said to her such as, “…I don’t want you and I never did!”   Then she told me a story about how her two step sisters died in a fire that she believed her stepfather started. I wasn’t sure what to make of this story until I read it myself, but she was adamant that her stepfather set the fire.

I had a horrible tendency to turn my anger inward during and after those years. I remember hearing those negative voices when my stepmother committed suicide–and they were very “loud”, if you know what I mean. I kept hearing, “You should have done this!” or “IF you had done X then Y wouldn’t have happened.”  The bottom line is that there was nothing I did to cause it being that I was only around 14 and nothing could change it.  I had to work my way through that process of grief and self-loathing.

My dad was a total basket case, so I had to help arrange the funeral and pick the casket, as well as the dress to bury her in. THAT was the hardest part of that whole thing–having to help arrange it at 14. I am glad my sister and sister-in-law were around to help keep my head on track, and they did help me to handle this.  To this day I have an aversion to going into funeral homes even though I make myself do it. All it takes is the smell of the flowers or the sight of a black suit to send me straight back to 1978. I don’t know why but that triggers those memories in a huge way. I find it ironic that I knew more about her childhood–her parents names and such than my father did. I also knew that she had three sons taken from her in Red Bluff, CA in the 1970’s so if anyone is looking to find her, then contact me via email.

I struggled with trying to find reasons for what happened, and trying to make “sense” of it, but there is no “sense” when it comes to something like that or any unexpected loss, I think. There was also that voice that kept saying, “What if I had done ____ differently? Would it change a thing?”  I didn’t have a sounding board to take my frustrations out on so I turned to pen and paper, which was all I had at the time–aside from an imagination that when my pen flowed freely, the counselors became concerned.  I also struggled with the fact that there came a day when I fully realized that what went on in our household was NOT normal by any stretch of the imagination.

Then came the day I had to forgive her and then myself.  I realized that I both loved her and hated what she did, but realizing that she was not in control of her actions enabled me to forgive her and begin to rebuild from another starting point. I also had to forgive a few others in this process. When I say I had to “rebuild from another starting point” I am referring to the fact that after any traumatic event we can never fully be the person we once were.  We have to debrief ourselves a bit and then start reprogramming from that point, I think.

Living with her mental illnesses was one thing, but her behaviors also taught me how “NOT” to be a stepmother.  It also turned me off of the idea of internet dating and such because she WAS a mail order bride.  Anyone can put on any image they want to present themselves to be, but you never know what they are until you are with them.

I choose to play it “safe” and avoid that trap, hence the reason I don’t connect with anyone to go out with from the internet.  I have my friends I hang out with.  If I go out with anyone it will be with NO ONE that I meet on the web.

Does this mean I am lonely? No. I am alone but I don’t get lonely.  I have things to do and places to go and since I spent half of my life married, I’m in no rush. I am certainly NOT desperate either. Being single does not mean that my life is broken.

Now I want to say something else here.  I read Cinderella as a  child…I watched the version of it with Lesley Ann Warren and loved it.  As I got older, as in my late teens, I began to realize how much truth in  “Fairy Tales” really existed.  Her friends were mice–AT LEAST in the Disney version. My friend was a mouse named Brutus. There is also truth in the fiction between us all.  My fiction was that I was a princess or an angel in waiting…When I grew up, I realized that I am a statistic…A number…One of the many who fell through the cracks, but made my own way back out of them.

In fact, I think the song “Luka” fits more accurately–even though I’m not a boy.  After all, Suzanne Vega was right…She only hit until I cried. I sure as hell didn’t ask why when she went on these rampages either.

Many of these fairy tales were written with happy endings, but in life, would they have been happy? We may never know.   Look at “Sleeping Beauty“…The queen was pissed because she wasn’t invited to the Christening.  The only thing that woke Aurora’s ass up was her true love’s kiss.  What rubbish.  All of these fairy tales have the sabotage of the memes we were taught running rampantly through them.  The main theme being “Good prevails over evil”….Does it?   Or, do we simply hope for the best, block out the worst and drive on hoping the next day will be better than the one before?

Either way I drew more inspiration for my writing from “Dark Shadows” than I ever would any of these “fairy tales”.  I also drew from a movie called “Paperhouse” and ‘another one called “Spirit of the Beehive“. Perhaps it is because in the eyes of the child I once was, Barnabas (from “Dark Shadows”) could not help what he was and that enabled me to empathize with his fictional pain.  In my opinion, he was bullied too.

April 9, 1929

Kenneth B. O'Neill USAF Msgt. (Ret-1972)  1929-1995

Kenneth B. O’Neill USAF Msgt. (Ret-1972) 1929-1995

 

On this day in 1929, my father was born.  I heard the story about how hard times were–to the point where my grandpa often stole chickens and such to keep the family fed.  They picked cotton. They worked the fields and they were very creative.  My grandmother, Mary E. O’Neill played an organ, Dad could write and Uncle Jackie could also–in fact, my uncle had a photographic memory!  He could read a book and remember it almost word for word, page number and chapter of what he wanted to tell us about.  In short, Uncle Jackie was a genius!

I”ll share some of the funny stuff at some point but for now, I’m just going to sit back and remember some of the fun things–like when we all went camping at Ringling Lake in Eastland, TX.

He’s been gone since 1995, but I think of him every year. I’m a little late tonight, but I was always late for everything when I was young–except school and work.  I drove my dad nuts if I didn’t call when I was supposed to, but today I wish I could call him…I miss him more than anyone can comprehend, but if I could call him, I’d introduce him to this little guy–his great-grandson!

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=409471489133877&set=vb.100002130892797&type=3&theater

I see a little of Dad in him…Just enough to lemme know that that boy has the Irish in him!  I think his hair is going to be like Dad’s too, but it’s too early to tell…

Anyway, if my dad is out there somewhere with his arms folded across his chest wondering what the heck is going on around here, I just wanna say this:  “Happy Birthday, Dad! You can put your halo back on now. I remembered!”

😉

 

 

We ARE Mothers…

There are times I get really pissed at the way the medical profession and some magazine writers try to dehumanize the experience of a miscarriage.  One article said, “…We imagine ourselves as mothers…” Oh hell no! They did not just say that! I don’t care if it is a loss at six weeks or six months–I am still a mother who has lost my child–and my ex-husband is a father who lost his dammit!

Then they call it “products of conception” or “fetal tissue”.  All I can say to any medical professional who would use that type of terminology to a woman and her partner who has miscarried is a phrase not fit for this post so I won’t repeat it here.  I lost my child. When they acted as if I did not know what I was talking about, I switched doctors. If the difference between one mother’s child is that it was a wanted one and someone else’s was not, then save the terminology for the abortion clinics and read the frigging chart before you shoot your mouth off because if it is a mom in a very emotional state you are dealing with,  she might just come unglued on your ass…IN fact, I know several mothers who lost children who would. I know I would if I endured it AGAIN and was treated as if the being  carried inside of me was not worthy of being called a “human being” but relegated to being called “products of conception” or “tissue”.

NOTE: This post is NOT about abortion. However I think a lot of the people in the medical profession try to treat this  experience like one and that is what pisses me off.  Even the old term for it (if it is not in use now) was “spontaneous abortion“.  The experience of losing a wanted child is unique and personal and should be treated with the same care and compassion as losing a loved one would be treated had it been a stillbirth–including offering referrals to counseling for couples going through this. Support groups for grieving parents who have experienced this are amazing, I think. 

Losing a child is a gut wrenching, physically painful, horrible experience regardless of what stage of gestation and if people in medical profession are trying to help us by dehumanizing the experience, they are deluding themselves.  Those in psychology tend to do the same.  It is because of this lack of consideration for those of us who go through this that I am writing this.  I know there are places out there somewhere that don’t conduct themselves in such an android like fashion when dealing with that type of grief, and I would like to know where they are. I will gladly refer people to those from this blog. As of right now, our group is unique and in a class by itself. In short, we stand alone.

Now if you have family members going through this, just listen and show some empathy.  Don’t say things like “Well, you’ll have another one someday.” or “At least you know you’re capable of having a baby.”  These are very insensitive things to be saying and it is pure bullshit.  You will alienate anyone you say that to over time if you do this–especially if the event might have left them unable to conceive. Trust me. I’ve cut people off for this.  Why? Simple. One child will never replace another.  We don’t forget the pain of losing the ones we lost and I can tell you from personal experience that even after 27 years, there is still ONE empty space at my table I think about from time to time.  In short, if you want to keep your friend, and you are not sure what to say, just be quiet…PLEASE…

This was not the only miscarriage I had, but it is the one that stands out because it is my son’s fraternal twin. It is VERY rare to not lose both, but I didn’t lose Brian. They said two weeks later when I still had morning sickness and got into it with the nurses that it was all in my head and I was NOT pregnant…They were going to send me to a psychologist. I said get the test and we’ll settle it now–among a few other choice things…Voila! I was STILL pregnant with that one and they rushed to do a sonogram.  Brian’s sac was in tact but it was considered high risk because I lost the twin. It is also very, very rare to keep one twin after losing the other–especially as early as it was.

In short, if you don’t understand it, just be willing to listen and don’t say anything.  That’s really all we need is a listening ear and a good shoulder to cry on.  You don’t know if or when a couple will be able to have another child, so it’s best not to comment one way or another on THAT issue too.

 

Sarah Was Alone…

I have been lying here on the cold ground around here for a very long time.  I don’t remember why I was put here, but I remember I was being hit again and again all because I wanted a glass of milk.  Why would anyone leave me out here? I am only seven. I don’t understand them.  I thought Mommy and Daddy wanted me and loved me–Oh wait! Daddy is gone.  He wasn’t there. It was someone else who was there with my mom. Mommy said my daddy was not coming back and if he did, she’d leave with us again.

I don’t remember much after being hit on the head the third time. I think I was crying and went to sleep.  I had to pee but couldn’t move and I was having this weird dream.  I was looking down at myself but I wasn’t hurting anymore.  I was so afraid that I was going to be hit again but nothing happened.  Not for a while.  I felt like I was flying and saw a light, but I couldn’t leave my baby sister there. It didn’t feel right so I stayed.

Then I saw Mitch, my moms boyfriend come in. He started yelling things I couldn’t understand and had Mom take my baby sister out of the room…I watched him shake me but I didn’t feel anything. He was saying some bad words too, but he did say he was sorry and started crying.  I’m not mad at him. I just don’t understand why he sent me here. I don’t understand why Mom let him hurt me all the time either.  I know she got mad because I wouldn’t say he was my daddy at school so she hit me too sometimes over it.  I still don’t understand where my real daddy was and why he didn’t come.

Mitch turned on the big light and I saw blood on my head and nose.  My eyes were open but I couldn’t blink and my lips were a weird bluish color.  I think I threw up at some point too before I was in this place watching everything. Mitch put me in a blanket and a bag and put me in the truck while Mom kept crying.

I am glad you’re close to me now because talking helps me not to feel so lonely out here.  It’s like you can’t see me yet but I can see you.  You come out here a lot, picking flowers. I think we might be in the same grade. I want to play but I know you can’t seem to hear me so I’ll just keep talking and hope someone finds me soon.

It’s neat to watch you play, Little Girl.  I like watching people do things I couldn’t do anymore around here but there is a neat thing about this. I don’t feel stickers in my feet or bugs crawling on me.  I’m in a place where you can’t see me well but I can see you.

I’ve seen it rain and such out here a lot too.  The trees are pretty when that happens and the birds come out. I’ve seen it snow a lot out here too.  I think I’ve seen 10 springs and 10 big snows!  It’s all so pretty and I don’t have to be afraid here.  You have blond hair like me! And you like dolls too! That’s neat!  I do miss Mom but not Mitch. I wonder where they are. Why don’t they come back for me?  I’m in a blanket not far from where you are.  Maybe your mom and dad will come find me and get me out of here soon.

Here come’s someone! It’s a man!  Is that your dad? Man he’s tall.  Wait, he’s getting closer to me.  Can you see me?  I’m right here? Please don’t leave me again! I’m so tired of being alo–wait! He’s sending you away and looking down. He’s saying “Oh my god!” or something like that and pulling out a little black thing he’s talking into. Now he’s crying. Why? Oh wait…He saw my teddy bear. It’s really dirty.  I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make anyone cry! Honest–I–wait…

I can hear a bit now…Not much…

“Look Sheriff, you need to come. I found–”

Oh can’t make out the rest but he’s still here, crying and looking down where Mitch put me. Now there is a lady but he yelled, “Get them out of here! I’ll explain when the sheriff gets here!” and she left with you and a younger kid really quickly. He kept looking at my teddy bear, but he didn’t touch it. He just stood there crying. Why? I’m not hurting.

shallow grave teddy bear

Oh please don’t cry! I’m really not hurting now! I’m just glad to not be alone…That’s the worst thing–alone at night even though I don’t feel hurt and such.

He’s been here crying for a long time and praying too.  My grandma prayed a lot!  Now there are other people here.  They have brushes and such and tweezers, shovels…All kinds of stuff and a yellow tape. Why can’t they just get me out of here?  Wait.  Maybe they are trying.  The older guy is shaking his head.

“Who would dump their kid out here like that?” I heard him say.

“Mom and Mitch would.” was my response but he didn’t hear me.  None of them hear me.  Wait! This one older guy said my name–another guy with a badge.

“From what the grandmother told me years ago, it could be Sarah Hawthorne.” he said.

“That is my name! He knows my name! I”m so glad! Someone sees me and knows my name!”

Wait! There’s that light again and it looks like it’s gonna rain, too.  Hey! I see Grandma and two other people with her!  One’s in an army uniform! He says he’s my daddy!  The other one is an older guy. I think I’ll go with them now!  I’m just glad someone found me so I’m okay!  Thanks for hearing me! I am so happy now!  Bye! I’m not alone anymore! You’ll be alright now so don’t cry, okay?!

 

26 Years After Losing a Child, I Still Wonder…

It was 26–almost 27 years ago that I miscarried. I remember the sac and such.  I was told I wasn’t pregnant anymore, yet two weeks later I still had morning sickness and such.  Then that doctor said, “It’s psychological and was going to send me to a “counselor”.”  After ranting for about 20 minutes about how having a kid is like riding a bicycle, they decided to do an ultrasound and another pregnancy test.

When the test came back “positive” my doctor was baffled.  Then they did the ultrasound. Sure enough, there was another sac with a fetus inside of it–with a heartbeat.  That was my son, Brian.  The doctor looked at me and said, “It is very rare to lose one and keep the other but it has happened before.  Most of the time these pregnancies are difficult and still result in loss…” and I stopped listening at that point.

The pregnancy was difficult. I spent the last few weeks in bed. Brian was 6 lbs. 8 ounces when he was born and was still estimated to have been born 6-8 weeks early.  He had reflux and had to sleep at an angle after he almost died at 2 months.  His stomach valve wasn’t fully developed and this caused his milk to go to this lungs when he spit up.

To this day I wonder what his twin might have been like. Boy? Girl? Red haired and blue-eyed like him, or more like me–dark hair and green/hazel eyes…I can say this, no child replaces another. I still mourn the loss of the one. It is very insensitive to tell a mother who has lost a baby via miscarriage or stillbirth anything such as “Well at least you can have another one.” or as in my case, “You don’t need any more children anyway. You already have one.”   I never spoke to that “friend” again either.

I also want to add losing a child does not mean one is not a mother or a father. They still are. They still grieve and mourn and go through the gamut of emotions that go with any death of a loved one.  The fathers go through the experience as well so it is not fair to expect them to be any less traumatized or hurt. Guys, if you have a male friend whose girlfriend or wife went through this, let him grieve and listen. At least then you are being a true friend to him. The same goes for the women who have never experienced it. There is NO right thing to say, but just listening helps.  So do hugs and allowing the person their grief.  This “being stoic” thing is bullshit.  Don’t expect that. We are human. We feel. We cry. We mourn.  Deal with it or just keep  quiet.

We do make our way back eventually, in our own time and in our own way.

 

Ohhhh Boy! Nana’s Experimenting! Anyone Ready for 12/21? Atomic Eggnog, Maybe?

Okay…THIS is going to be very short…I have a decision to make and I need a few foodies to help me figure this one out.  I wanna have an end of the world party on 12/21…Here is the question: How does one  spice up something as boring as eggnog can be with something hotter than Southern Comfort?   I mean, can we infuse Habanero and hot cinnamon rum with it or what?  Let me know what you think, but I’m calling this crap “Atomic Eggnog“!

I think I”ve got it….

Eggnog

Well start with an OLD Recipe. Use Jim Beam Whiskey AND Jim Beam Devils Cut OR Red Stag (SPICED) for those parts of it.

AND THEN for the BLAST ADD this:

1/2 Habanero to the pot or a shot of Goldenschlaager’s if you’re too chicken for the pepper!

If that don’t blast us off, nothing will!

old eggnog recipe

jim_beam_devils_cut

jimbeamredstagspicedcinnamon

cinnamon goldenschlaagerhabenero

Are you ready?

Nana’s #1 All-Time Favorite Cleaning Product (Helpful Hint #2)–Never mind the strong smell…

Look if you guys have a Family Dollar or a Dollar Tree Store–or even a Dollar General Store, you need to check this stuff out!

http://www.lastotallyawesome.com/

I’ve used this in lieu of stain sticks and stuff to get stains out of clothing and cleaning appliances…You can read about this stuff on the website link I put above, but there is no bleach, ammonia, etc… in this stuff.  It will clean almost ANYTHING! Seriously!  The best part of it is, it is usually only $1 for a spray bottle of it, or anywhere from $3-3.50 for the big refill bottle. I use it at full strength to do deep cleaning at the store I work in and I’ve never diluted it for the stove. I let it set for about a minute (two tops) and then wipe it off.  I don’t recommend it for really BADLY messed up ovens…NOT a good idea. Now if you need a stainless sink to be made silver again, this should do it after letting it set for a couple of minutes too.

Pick up a bottle and read what you can use it on! I’ve taken some pretty bad carpet stains out with it too, and it didn’t damage it! However it does have a strong smell to it!
Later!

I am not kidding around! This stuff works on some of the toughest cleaning jobs I’ve ever dealt with!