Just Words On A Page

The video diary...

2012-02-05T12:51:00.001-08:00

Has had to go private. If you want to see it message me...

A look back to 2011 - a year in review...

2012-01-01T15:16:00.000-08:00

This is what happened last year. Since it's January 1st, 2012!! I know, right? 2012!?!?! It seems fitting to reflect today about what happened 366 day ago and then as we say it:

BRING IT 2012!!

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Traveled to Florida with my son -- I have been there with my husband for our honeymoon but we took our 11 year old to Walt Disney World to share with him what we fell in love with there, and holy mother of fun, was it amazing.
2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I don't make them but strive to live healthier, not be as anxious, be more aware, and more tolerant of others.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

I run an organization that helps infertile women have babies, so I think I helped welcome about 100 into 2011, which was incredibly exciting!
4. Did anyone close to you die?
Thankfully, no.
5. What countries did you visit?

I stayed home, I didn't even go to Canada or Mexico, I suck!

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

Healthy, Security, Harmony, less anxiety. Balance, more balance.

7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

August 9th, 2011, the say I had to read that a friend of mine was charged with a felony, actually pled guilty to this felony and I had no idea this was happening. It was mind blowing.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Losing 60+ lbs.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Not making enough time for me and realizing that some people who I thought were friends were not -- so all in all not taking care of me.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Yes and let me tell you they sucked.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
The best thing I bought -- oh probably my Ipad2. Awesome.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
My husband’s.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

I do not want to go here, Internet. Thinking about it just makes me… appalled and depressed.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Of course bills -- mortgage, home repairs, taxes, utilities, etc...
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Being healthier as a family, connecting with my spouse more, growing my organization, going into business for myself, watching my child grow into an amazing young man.

16. What song(s) will always remind you of 2011?

Fuck you by Cee lo Green
and all of those fun songs by Glee.
Red Solo Cup by Toby Keith

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

a) happier or sadder? I am happier I think, and wiser.

b) thinner or fatter? Thinner byt 60+ lbs.

c) richer or poorer? Neither.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Exercise. Cleaning. Being zen.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Fretting. Worrying. Stressing. Being impatient.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

With my in-law eating prime rib

21. Did you fall in love in 2011?
I fell in love more and more with my spouse:)

22. What was your favorite TV program?

How I met your Mother, Two and a Half Men, Grimm, and Glee those were all great.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Frustrated and hurt yes, hate no.

24. What was the best book you read?

25. What did you want and get?

A geaneology subscription

26. What did you want and not get?

A new house.

27. What was your favorite film of this year?

Bridesmaids, the last installment of Harry Potter, and I enjoyed New Moon.

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 48 and I don't remember what I did. Nothing substantial.

29. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

If I’d spent more time just enjoying life, rather than worrying about the future.

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

Traditional casual

31. What kept you sane?

My work, my kid, my spouse, and my therapist, let's throw in some music for good measure.

32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I don't like any celebrities to be honest.

33. What political issue stirred you the most?

Don't get me started.

34. Who did you miss?

I miss my former self.

35. Who was the best new person you met?

That's a good question - let me think about that.

36. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

To slow down and to think about things but don't over analyze.

Day one 364 to go:)

2012-01-01T12:00:00.000-08:00

Okay it's up.

Game on 2012!!!

Day Three and Still Doin it...

2011-12-30T18:14:00.000-08:00

The sounds is off, doesn't mesh with what I am saying. Need to troubleshoot that, and figure out how to post tomorrow when I am on the road.

But here I am.

And so why it we don't appreciate what we have?

I am back again like a bad penny....

2011-12-29T16:35:00.000-08:00

Okay - so day two of this year long process.

I say "ummm" "sooo" and "you know" a lot. I am still not comfortable in front of the camera. I'd never makeit as a TV news journalist. The video syncing is off, so I need to tinker with that.

In other news, it's raining cats and dogs. Cats and Dogs for sure. I wonder if we are going to get some snow.

I hope your new years is great, I am going to do some sort of year end round up over the next few days.

xo

Putting myself out there.

2011-12-28T19:36:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I am doing this.

Here I am, being accountable.

What I Miss....

2011-12-27T17:03:00.000-08:00

You know it's almost the end of 2011. When I think about this past year sometimes I think it flashed by like the speed of light, and other times passed by like warm molasses dripping off a piece of corn bread.

I guess there's no pleasing me.

But I am not here complain, really just talk about those things I miss. I miss us, the way we used to be.

Do you know what I mean?

Remember when we used to sit next to one another and talk about everything and nothing? Or how we played board games or cards? My favorite -- Scrabble, Sorry, and yes Monopoly.

Great Grandma Bessie could easily wipe the floor with us with scores of 350+, and the words she would come up I swear were from another planet.

You know for such a long time we've shared so many things -- we'd play cards for hours, just me and you. We'd argue about the rules of two handed pinochle, and if dirty word Scrabble was really acceptable to play.

Do you remember reading the same book and actually talking about it over coffee when we were both finished? Or how about the nights we'd all get together and swim and Jacuzzi (before it was called hot tubbbing) with no alcohol involved and talk about world problems and plan to solve them.

And speaking of coffee, it was the kind of coffee that was made in a perculator on the stove. There wasn't espresso to be had, or Starbucks, or Dutch Brothers, and there was no biscotti. It was dark, strong, and I always put lots of cream and sugar. I can remember sneaking coffee as a kid, because it was such a grown up drink.

I miss how you and I would stay home on a Saturday night to actually watch Saturday Night Live. We'd live for the music and the weekend updates. We'd actually talk about how funny we thought it was and our sides would split because we'd laugh so hard.

New Years was always full of laughter, fun, and NO PHONES, no facebook, or online anything. I mean really the idea of going out to dinner without a phone -- mind blowing.

Sometimes I wonder if being online, complicates our lives more?

Whatever happened to staying up until the wee hours of the night contemplating life, reminiscing about funny stories of our childhood, or people we know and met. Sometimes it was just holding hands with our mate, exchanging a look a kiss, or just breathing in the scent of the one we love.

These little slivers of time, these small moments, momentary events, all replaced by go, go, rush, rush, Facebook this, check-in that, instant message, text, or even Twitter.

I will be the first to admit I am guilty of all of the above. I twitter, journal, and facebook. I also instant message and live in my email.

I miss real letters that are hand written, sometimes with our fragrance attached, placed in an envelope that we hand address with an actual stamp placed and mailed.

I miss those conversations you and I had that were actually face to face, in the same room sitting across from one another, whether that be at the old worn kitchen table, outside on the chaise lounge chairs, sitting on the front porch, or sharing an umbrella during one of the many rain storms we have experienced together.
Remember the secrets we'd whisper to one another, those knowing looks that can't be replaced by a text or a twitter? How about skinny dipping in the canal and knowing the neighbor was looking, and not caring as we giggled our way to the float?

So what I am saying is I miss you. I miss your face. I miss your voice. I miss you.

Let's make a point of actually slowing down in the coming year and actually connecting again.

People who smell good...

2011-11-30T16:45:00.001-08:00

Make me very happy.

Bad smells make me feel gross.

Laughter makes me feel good and warm.

Crying sometimes is like ctrl-alt-dlt and that's not bad.

I think I am going back with the good smell thing.

I like being happy.

RemembeRED – Just Before You Start

2011-10-11T14:32:00.000-07:00

Stephen King said, “The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.”

This week we asked you to write a memoir post inspired by that statement – in 300 words or less.
We can’t wait to read!

Link up HERE, but only if you’ve responded the prompt.

I saw it in the distance looming like a monster waiting to eat me. My stomach flip-flopped as we inched closer through the crowd. It stood 310 feet tall at its highest point, as it overlooked Lake Erie. On a clear day you could see Canada from the top of the main hill. It was cold, huge, and made of steel.

My fear level was off the scale as I passed the attendants who were expressionless as if we were making the long walk to our respective deaths. I wondered if they had been previous riders who had already met their fate.

Winding our way through the queue I felt myself begin to sweat, my breath quickened the closer it was to our turn. The screams could be heard in the not far off distance which caused my eyes to water.

“Line 1” he said in a deep voice and pointed to our line. Wordlessly we took our place as we looked through the afternoon sun to watch the coaster put its prey through their paces.

The coaster rolled smoothly in and glided to an easy stop. The restraints flipped up and its riders poured out their death traps -- Some laughing, some crying, many terrified.

As I stepped into my car I sat down with a thud. The overhead restraint automatically closed over my shoulders in one fluid motion. I realized at that moment without a doubt I was riding this mother.

There was no going back.

I looked over at my friend, made the sign of the cross, offered a small prayer to the Gods above and felt the car shoot forward.

Being in the number one car we would be the first to scream, cry, throw up and perhaps die.

Life On My Terms...

2011-10-09T20:26:00.001-07:00

Since When....

2011-10-08T08:17:00.000-07:00

Did the requirement for the presidency state that an individual had to be of the same faith to be considered competent to run for office?

This next election is going to be ugly. And to think I used to be a member of the Republican party. How embarrassing.

Rick Perry - here is a message for you: "No one wants you to lead us, you and your right wing religious friends are scary."

The Lake...

2011-10-07T17:13:00.000-07:00

This writing challenge is from Write On Edge.

Instruction :This week we asked you to take us somewhere . Where was up to you – fiction or creative non-fiction – but we asked you to use your words to paint the setting as vividly as possible. In 200 words.

This is the lake I was raised on, and a memory of late summer night swimming with my boyfriend.

Creeping quietly as church mice to the dock we can hear the symphony of bullfrogs as they loudly trumpet through the warm summer nights at the lake. Every step on the old dock is a creak or a groan. Looking from side to side we pray we aren’t discovered as we wordlessly step out of our clothes and slip into the smooth delicious water of the lake.

The urge to laugh is immense but we don’t. We swim and swim until we think we are far enough away from shore and the whispering and soft laughter of two lovers begin. It’s so very liberating and free to be skinny dipping. The water slides over the smooth parts of our body. You don't see the others body, you feel it.

Looking up into the sky it’s as if we are under a dome of stars. I think I might even be able to reach out and touch one. The moon beams dance and glisten upon our skin as we break through the water and come up for air.

As I tread water and trade secrets with my lover he swims to me and I connect with his skin. The contrast between his body and the water in so different and distinct that I want to remember this sensation forever.

Will I remember this evening forever? I certainly hope so.

What I Would Tell My Younger Self...

2011-10-03T17:18:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have a running commentary in your head about what you'd tell your younger self if you could?

The other day I was reflecting about my life over the past 48 years and I came up with this list:

Middle school doesn't freaking matter. Everyone of your classmates (and teachers) are dysfunctional. They all have skeletons in their closet and things to be embarrassed about.

Don't let anyone (ie - stupid boys) get in the way of your dreams. If you want to travel the world and live out of your back pack don't let sex, a penis, or promises of picket fences and children stand in your way. That also goes for your parents. If you don't want to be a doctor or a lawyer then don't. If you'd rather be a baker, an artist, or a dancer, then do it.

Take care of your body, as in what you put into it. It's much harder to lose weight than to gain weight. Stay active, view your body as a machine. If you care for it your body will care for you.

Your virginity is yours to keep and a gift to give, don't feel like you owe it to anyone to give it up for dinner and a movie. And you don't have to fuck someone to prove you love them.

You can get pregnant the first time you have sex. Always be safe and use birth control and/or a condom until you are ready to have children on your terms.

Don't get pressured to live in a state, city, town, or country you aren't comfortable with just because your partner says you must. It has to be a decision you both make together and agree upon.

Therapy isn't going to hurt you, it might help.

Take care of your teeth they are the only ones you have.

When you choose a mate regardless of what they say when you marry your mate you are marrying their family.

Those zip all the way around jeans -- while you had a nice figure so show them off, they probably weren't the best fashion choice for you.

Don't ever drive drunk, not even once.

Guard your credit score with your life. Pay your bills on time. A great credit score will open the doors for you all over the world.

Drugs are bad. Mkay?

You have to learn to say NO and not feel guilty about it.

If it doesn't matter to you in five years, don't worry about it.

Prepare yourself for hardship and sorrow. It's going to happen.

Don't wish away your life. Don't shoulda, woulda, or coulda. Embrace each day, because life is short, there are no do overs.

Suffering isn't a contest.

Your parents really are smart. Give them a chance.

Finish what you start.

You cannot have a relationship with food. Use food for fuel not to sooth your feelings about love, men, and broken relationships.

Don't allow anyone to abuse you. Speak up for yourself. It's okay to tell your first boyfriends mother to go screw herself even if it means you and your first boyfriend break up. You will be better off for it later.

Learn not to fear death.

Don't ever pick up a cigarette.

If you want that tattoo then by all means go get it.

Do what you want.

Chase your dreams.

Choose your battles.

Save for the future.

Finish your college education now.

Regardless of how old you are remember what it was like to be foot loose fancy free and nine years old.

Your no means no.

Education is important. Pay attention in school.

FALL IN LOVE -- it's wonderful. Don't be afraid of love.

Love is love. And sex is sex. THEY ARE NOT ONE IN THE SAME.

Always wear a seat belt and make sure your underwear is always clean. You could get hit by a bus.

It's okay to have a small circle of friends. The only people who matter in your life are the ones who are going to be around your death bed singing you to heaven.

If you want to believe in God, then do it with pride. Don't allow anyone to make you feel badly or weird, or awkward because they don't have the same belief system as yourself.

Same with political beliefs, see above.

You don't have to like everyone you meet. And in the same regard it's okay not to be liked by everyone you meet.

It's okay to be afraid of things. Don't feel badly because there are things you are afraid of.

Love yourself. Love yourself. Love yourself.

You are loved.

You are beautiful. You really are.

What Really Goes On In This Steel Trap Of My Head...

2011-10-02T13:31:00.000-07:00

I think the older I become the less tolerant I am becoming which is sad kinda. I had always hoped I’d mellow out with age like my dad has. But no, I find myself being more impatient as I wait in line, finding a solution to a problem, listening to someone drone on and on about whatever, or those who are just not kind.

Outwardly I smile, and nod a lot. Keeping my mouth shut helps. Inside my head there is this ongoing monologue that goes something like this:

“I could give a shit about the fact you are broke and in 50k worth of debt. You are the one who went on the spending sprees not me. You have three cars, all your kids are in private school, you have more bling than Elizabeth Taylor ever had, and a fucking maid for God’s sakes. Just shut up.”

“You’re frustrated and hurt because you can’t have a fifth child? Really? You are talking to the wrong person.”

“No, I don’t know the way to 24 hour fitness in South East Portland, DO I LOOK LIKE I KNOW THE FUCKING WAY TO 24 HOUR FITNESS!!?!?!”

“If you write one more thing down on your clip board to place in my therapy file I am going to get up and smack you upside the head. I mean It!! don’t.you.dare.write.one.more.thing.down.about.what.I.say.about.my.father”

“Jesus Christ, its so dirty in here I am afraid to sit down, fuck who lives like this?”

“Blah blah blah blah blah I am so not listening to you pontificate you asshole.”

“And they gave you a teaching license? You couldn’t teach a gorilla to eat a banana”

“I am glad he’s dead, what an asshole loser jerk off who never did deserve you.”

What do I really say?

Pretty much – “Oh I am so sorry you are experiencing “X” – that must be so hard. Is there anything I can do to help?”

I wonder what would happen if I really just said what I thought.

Another Day

2011-09-29T12:54:00.000-07:00

The house was thankfully silent. Her bones ached as she quietly made her way to the kitchen to begin another day.

Another day. She was alive to see another day. Some days she didn’t know if she’d see the sunrise of the next but somehow she always managed regardless of how weary her spirit was.

Hoisting the timeworn heavy kettle from the old dilapidated stove took every bit of her strength. Her arms and hands shook as she set the kettle into the chipped porcelain sink. As she felt the cold water spill into her hands and into the kettle she ached, a deep ache from years of hard work. Examining the deep lines within her hands she frowned and wished fleetingly for hot water. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came; there was no wishing in her life. Her hand in life had already been dealt to her and her day wouldn’t wait for “sissy crying” as her grandmother would tell her.

With great effort the kettle was back upon the stove in its proper place as her day began. She deftly struck a match and lit the stove expertly like she had been daily for many years. Surveying the sparse kitchen she sighed with relief. At least there wouldn’t be a lot to clean today.
As she waited for the signs of life in the house to begin she opened the backdoor of the kitchen and shooed the chickens away and made her way to the hen house. Passing the family cemetery she saw the graves and the names of those before her knowing one day her name too would be written crudely on a simple cobbled stone. Saying a silent prayer to those who lay dead she continued on with her day.

It was dawn, the sun was just peeking over the rise as she shoved open the uneven door. The chickens were on their roost with their eyes still at half-mast ignoring her has she smoothly slid under their warm bodies scooping eggs like a thief in the night. When she gathered the dozen she came for she silently padded back to the house to begin her day.

When she arrived in the kitchen there he was all six feet six of him. She’d never seen another man that tall in her life. He was a giant compared to the smallness of her frame. He made eye contact with her, and she quietly panicked, as she cast her eyes to the floor.

“Coffee ready?” he asked menacingly in the form of a statement rather than a question.

She knew that tone and she knew at that moment her day could go either way. Shaking her head, she managed “No, not yet” softly, “In about ten minutes” she replied. Hoping her answer or the way she replied didn’t anger him.

“Come here” he stated. It wasn’t a request, more like an order.

Obediently she walked to him still looking down at the cracked, stained tile floor. She felt his enormous vice-like hands grasp her arms and felt his rough beard against her neck. She knew if she stiffened and fought him it would be worse.
“Girl, you know I will make you love this. I don’t know why you fight me.” The bass in his voice resonated as he began to kiss her neck.

Recoiling from his touch wasn’t an option although every fiber in her being wanted to scream and run far, far away. Exhaling evenly she didn’t respond, she hoped he was thinking about other things other than her or her body. The disgust she felt for him was unfathomable. She wished him dead; her fantasies of killing him were disturbing.

Roughly he kissed her invading her mouth, the taste of stale cigarettes and last night’s whiskey still upon his breath. Trying to breathe and not vomit took much effort on her part as her body deep inside still hurting from the liberties he took the night before.

Tears began well up within her eyes, but she refused to cry.

With great relief she heard the tea kettle begin to whistle which distracted him. He discarded her dropping to her to the ground like a piece of trash as he grunted to her to make him coffee. Watching his back as he exited the house to the front door make her shudder, she hated him.
Now focused with the task at hand she quickly went about the daily chore of making him a cup of instant coffee, and dutifully serving him on the front porch like she had for so many mornings.

“Here’s your coffee, strong just the way you like it.” She said timidly.

Without a thank you, he accepted the cup and with a look dismissed her.

Scurrying back into the house she entered the kitchen and began breakfast like she did every morning. Skillfully cracking eggs she whisked them effortlessly and poured them into the sizzling pan while frying sausage in another. There was no money for store bought bread; she made a mental note to bake bread today. As she went about her duties two other small children joined her and pressed themselves against her thighs.

For the first time that day she smiled at the two sleepy headed children. Hugging them briefly and kissing the tops of their heads she scooted them away from the stove and to the kitchen table. As she finished breakfast she said “One of you go fetch your father it’s breakfast time.” The boys nodded wordlessly and like lightening they were outside calling their father to the table. Soon she heard the creak of the old screen door and the lumber his heavy feet as she began to dish up breakfast.

As the four of them ate in silence she looked around her and wondered how she got here. This isn’t what she signed up for. She wanted to much more for her life. Soon the meal was over and she was left to clear dishes, and begin her daily household chores. Filling the sink with scalding water from the heavy tea kettle she added a small amount of dish soap and made suds while immersing her awaiting hands in the steaming water.

He was still sitting at the table drinking his coffee when he called to the two boys.

“You got something to say?” He growled.

The both boys looked at him in bewilderment and then they both grinned – “Happy Birthday!” They chimed. She smiled and felt such longing and l love for the two small children.

“Happy Birthday Olivia” He said evenly, and quietly.

“Thank you Daddy.” She managed as she continued to wash dishes.

“How old are you today?” Lucas asked

With great defiance she looked directly at her father meeting his gaze and stated.

“12 Lucas, today I am 12.”

When I Could Eat Anything I Wanted...

2011-09-19T16:54:00.000-07:00

I was thinking back to my junior year in high school. Every afternoon was the same. A foot long burrito and an ice cold coke. I was 5'4 and maybe 105 lbs. I could eat anything I wanted.

Why can't we do that now?

Getting Older Ain't For Sissy's Ya'll

2011-09-18T20:15:00.001-07:00

Oh Jesus.

That's pretty much all I have uttered for the past ten days. Do you all remember 2 years ago when I fell on my right shoulder and royally screwed it up? Well, I have done it yet again. However, it's the LEFT freaking shoulder.

The saddest part about all of this is that I don't even know how I did it. Ten days ago it just began to hurt to the point I was literally shrieking.

My official diagnosis is Calcific tendonitis. This is a condition that causes the formation of a small, usually about 1-2 centimeter size, calcium deposit within the tendons of the rotator cuff.

These deposits are usually found in patients at least 30-40 years old, and have a higher incidence in diabetics. The calcium deposits are not always painful, and even when painful they will often spontaneously resolve after a period of 1-4 weeks.

Well I am over 40 and not a diabetic. So I don't fit the bill. My calcium deposit is huge. If this doesn't resolve itself within the next two weeks then it's surgery time which scares the crap out of me.

ugh.

When Life Makes No Sense

2011-09-14T09:42:00.000-07:00

I understand the need for death. We are born, we live, we grow old, our bodies wear out, we die. As Elton John sings about - "The Circle of Life" What I don't understand is when children die either of injury, accident, abuse, or illness. It's not right that kids die regardless of their age. One blogger I read Anna lost her son Jack in Northern Virginia during a flood. I thought about this family all weekend and especially on the 12th as they held services to say a final goodbye to their beloved Jack. My heart is so so heavy.

Losing my son is something I can't fathom. I cannot wrap my brain around it. I know the reality is we have no control. We can pray, we can hope, we can want our children to be safe, to live to be old old old men and women that have lived long and productive lives with a mate and big family. We protect them to the best of our abilities but at the end of the day we really have no control.

And Anna is going through every mother's worst nightmare.

And again, my heart is heavy for her, her husband and her daughter Margaret. No one should have to lay their child to rest ever.

Regardless of your faith, your belief system, or non-belief system, please go over to Anna's site, and show her your support -- envelop her in your good thoughts, wishes, prayers, or whatever, she and her family need our love and support right now.

Thanks.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-09-07T15:15:00.000-07:00

What Is It About Time.....

2011-08-21T20:30:00.000-07:00

The old saying goes something like -- "Time heals all wounds..." I haven't ever been a real believer in that saying, but I will say that time and distance help take the sting out I guess.

Like everything life moves on and we deal in our own way on our own time.

And this situation will also move on, become less of a crisis and a drama, in fact, this time next year I will be looking back on this and saying "Holy shit that was some heavy duty shit that went down and I am glad it's past."

Yeah, that's what I'll be saying for sure.

I am just thankful it's not me who's going to prison.

When your heart is broken....

2011-08-11T22:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary -

(You diary are like my higher power -- you know who this is going to)

I am sorry that your family is going through this. Please know I love you with all my heart and at the same time I am sure you can understand that I don't trust you.

I don't know what to believe. The accusations are horrifying and I am sickened by them.

I just don't know what to believe.

This came out of left field.

I am disappointed that you couldn't come to me when you knew months before to tell me, to keep me in the loop, that you didn't trust me enough to listen to what you should have told me

As a result my heart is broken and I feel terribly betrayed.

I wish you the best in your life but I don't think after this I can continue a relationship with you. I would never know if you were telling me the truth or lying to me.

And if you don't have basic trust in a relationship you've got nothing.

I hope someday this crater in my spirit is going to be filled. Until then I cry for those you have hurt along the way.

My Funny Therapist

2011-07-18T19:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary -

I am seeing a new therapist because well, I need to. And this time I thought I'd see a male therapist so perhaps I could get over my issues with men.

So I met this guy not sure what I was going to find, thinking he'd be some old German guy. He's German all right but younger than me, nice to look at and funny.

F U N N Y.

I hope that's a good thing.

My Blackberry's Broken!

2011-07-12T10:01:00.001-07:00

For all you crack berry addicts!

Every where I turn there's bad news and more bad news...

2011-06-27T16:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary -

My Monday started out poorly. The news of friends with Cancer. I hate Cancer diary. I really hate Cancer. Another friend who is going through a tough time, sensless killings, people being killed in the middle of the day as they take a walk in a suburban neighborhood by a drunk/drugged driver, more senseless killings, kids going hungry, mothers killing their children, kids killing other kids, violence, just more and more violence.

Sometimes it's just all too much.

It makes me worry about my child and my spouse. When I say prayers, I ask that we all just be kept safe. And I realize I have no control on what tomorrow brings and that's the scariest part of it all.

No control. My life could end tomorrow.

I hope not, I have lots of plans for myself.

I just wish good news would appear.

Drunk Cooking

2011-06-07T10:17:00.000-07:00

I want this chick to come cook at my house:)

My Friday Fives

2011-05-26T19:25:00.001-07:00

I haven't ever done this before, and I got this great idea from Kat. Do your own, put your answers in comments below or on your own blog.

1. If you could eat only one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Chinese food. Hands down.

2. If you won $1 Million in the lottery tomorrow, how would you spend your money?

Pay off my house. Put money aside for my child's college education and travel.

3. If you could travel through time, when and where would you go?

I'd totally go back in time to have a one on one with Jesus Christ. I have a few questions I'd like to ask him.

4. If you had to give up one of your senses, which one would it be?

Probably smell.

5. If you could have one superpower, what would you choose?

The ability to make anything with the snap of my finger, so if I needed something I'd think about what it was I needed and snap my finger and it would appear.

Independence

2011-05-17T09:54:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a time where the Dad went to work and brought home the paycheck. The mom ran the house. In some households the Mom paid the bills and managed the money, and in other households the Dad paid the bills and managed the money.

As we kids grew older my mom went to work full-time which really pissed my dad off. But he got over it when his bank account grew, and life became easier financially.

Growing up my parents each took their turn and neither thinking the other did a great job at it -- however, they must have done a great job at it because their credit scores are perfect, as good as you can get, and they are doing okay in retirement.

I married a guy who is really really really great with our finances. He's smart about it. He provides a great life for us, manages our money (I was all too ready to say take it all over when we met), and is typically fiscally conservative, not be confused with being cheap, tight, or a miser. Because he's not -- he's probably one of the most generous people I know.

We got into an argument about the stupid netflix account. We'd made an agreement that we'd keep it at one level ( 4 dvd plan) and I changed it to unlimited. And I didn't check in with him and broke our agreement. He was mad not at the fact I so much changed plans but that I didn't honor our agreement and changed it without talking with him about it.

Then we got into the whole "Well I make the money and make sure we are all taken care of, our savings grows, our investments do the right things, make sure we have a nice house, blah blah."

My irritation was that even as hip, together, and current my spouse is about almost everything else he's still really really old fashioned when it comes to roles, and finances.

I added up how much my time is worth (truth be told my time is priceless, it's not quantifiable) and it was about as much or more than he pulls in every year.

So this got me thinking that while I do work full-time and make a really measly salary at a lovely nonprofit -- it's clear there would be a shift in power if I earned what he was earning. Which I think is quite possible because of what I do on a consulting basis.

It's all about independence and having your own money. And this chick is going to make that happen. And then we will see about that Netflix account.

Things aren't as funny as they used to be.

2011-05-10T11:04:00.000-07:00

I turned 48 Monday the 9th. It was kind of nice. No fan fare. No big deal. It just quietly turned 48. And while I was reflecting upon being 48 -- as in for the most part I don't feel any different, but when I look in the mirror I know. Oh I know.

And while being 48 is just another number in the grand scheme of things I wonder if things cease being as funny (people, places, things, or situations) because I am older. Or --

* Am I more tolerant
* Am I less mean spirited
* Am I more tenderhearted
* Am I more tired
* Am I more sensitive to other people and their feelings
* Am I less bitter
* Am I less jaded
* Am I less cynical
* Am I just more realistic
* Am I less insecure

I do know that it's not as important to me to be right about everything.

I just need to learn how to love more and love better.

Who's job is it...

2011-05-09T14:59:00.000-07:00

So let's say you have a kid and you are a mom. Who's job is it to remember you on mothers day. Your 10 year olds or your spouses. My thinking is that it's the spouses job.

Only in the country.....

2011-05-05T09:55:00.001-07:00

I live rurally -- and most of the time I love it. love, love, love it. Sometimes it drives me apeshit but it helps to have cable, a fast internet connection, and a Dutch Brothers within driving distance.

But there's one thing that beats all -- our mail service. Only out here where the hoot owls make love to the chickens can you wave down your mail carrier and will she not only stop and give you your mail, but shoot the shit with you.

Why Yes I Am Watching The Royal Wedding....

2011-04-27T10:19:00.000-07:00

I have always been fascinated with the Royal Family. From the time I was a little girl and old enough to understand when people were making fun of me because I loved reading and learning about the Queen, and the Monarchy of England.

When Lady Diana married Prince Charles I watched it all from start to finish. Every snippet of information about the Royal Family I devoured. I knew exactly where I was when Princess Diana was killed, and I watched them bury her. I even watched when Charles married Camilla.

And now, Prince William marries his love Kate Middleton.

Pomp and Circumstance!

The Secret Society Of The Professional Women's Potty Mouth Brigade

2011-04-24T12:50:00.000-07:00

I work with a lovely group of professional women who are well educated (And I don't necessarily mean with lots and lots of degree's and titles after their name, I mean world experience, business experience, and life experience - just plain experience.), thoughtful, brilliant, kind, and really in the know of the industry in which we work.

When I attend meetings, teleconferences, or exchange email I am very very careful to be appropriate, polite, and above all well-spoken and articulate. Profanity and colorful metaphors would dare not cross these lips or come from my keyboard. Never. Ever. No. Way.

The other day I was speaking to one of my peers on the phone about a specific issue, and the conversation became rather animated and highly spirited. We were not disagreeing with one another, we in fact, were on the same page, on the same wave length really getting one another -- in fact, if we were men we probably would have "high fived" one another. As the conversation became more passionate my peer blurted out :

"Absofuckinglutley! That kind of bullshit drives me up the fucking wall!"

I was gobsmacked! And I dissolved into peels of laughter. And then she realized what she said and began to apologize all over herself. I wouldn't hear of it, and said "You never have to apologize for being you and sharing what's real with me" We both laughed and laughed. After we finished our business conversation we talked about the other delightful women with who we work and discovered there is truly a secret society of the professional women's potty mouth brigade! I loved it. If we were men, and tossed around the typical "shit", "fuck" "son of a bitch" type words all day we'd be looked upon as hard working men. However, we aren't men, we are equipped with vagina's not penises and therefore, to use profanity in the workplace is not only inappropriate, women are looked down upon and viewed as uneducated and not lady like if we do.

Kind of stupid isn't it?

I broke up with Facebook

2011-04-17T21:14:00.000-07:00

My family gasped. My friends gasped. "How could you deactivate your facebook account?" I mean really, how could you? Well, I did. And I had specific reasons for doing so. All very personal. But all very relevant for me. And so I am good with it. It was something I needed to do. And to be really honest, while I do miss it. And I miss checking in several times a day to see what all you folks are up to, and to tell you what I am doing, I am much better off for doing it. So there you have it.

When we say the wrong thing.

2011-04-12T15:06:00.000-07:00

Many months ago in a moment of frustration I opened my mouth and made a statement about an individual that was repeated to her; and while my basis for saying that I felt at the time on the mark, it was a stupid thing to say as well as the wrong thing to say.

So I wrote to a friend of mine who's very smart about such things, as I was beating myself up pretty darn badly for upsetting this other person -- and this person said:

"Here's my thought. People say stupid stuff at the wrong time to the wrong person all the time. Everybody does it. You apologized." (Which I did, I took responsibility, it was said, I said it, it was passed on to her and it really hurt her feelings.) And my friend closed with: "You're never going to keep your mouth shut. Neither is anybody else. Give yourself the same amount of slack they themselves." And she's right. Everyone says stupid stuff as at the wrong time to the wrong person -- but I still feel like a shithead. I know how I'd feel if my character was questioned.

My hope is this too shall pass.

And damn family dynamics and sometimes in-laws are such a pain in the ass.

It's Dark Outside and the Wind's Howling

2011-02-15T00:23:00.001-08:00

My entire household is asleep. Even the birds are sawing logs. Everyone is ensconced in the joys of sleep but me.

And I hate it.

I'd give my eye teeth for 8-9 hours of solid, sound, delicious sleep. However, it evades me many nights.

And did I mention I hate it?

Well I do. I hate it.

Everything seems bigger, darker, and way scarier at night. Fevers feel worse, sounds are more intense, pain is worse and the hours seem to drag and it's often extremely lonely.

Even with the low din of the television in the background I can hear Mother Nature rearing her ugly head.

Tonight she sounds really pissed off.

The wind is howling, the rain is pelting itself against the window and the house is groaning in protest under the wiles of the storm that's whirling about it's shutters.

Sometimes It's Okay To Do Nothing

2011-02-11T22:54:00.001-08:00

I'm watching all 7 seasons of The West Wing. I am all covered up under a soft fuzzy blanket, in my pajamas, iPhone in hand, glass of water and I am just doing nothing.

Looking around my house from my vantage point I can see a kitchen that needs to be cleaned, laundry that needs to be folded, bird seed that needs to be vacuumed, a media room, TV room, Den, (whatever the hell you want to call it) that needs to be picked up, as well as a shitload of other things that need my attention -- and guess what I don't care and I am not moving my ass off this couch.

Sometimes it's okay to do nothing.

I Only Wish I Had The Motiviation To Write Like You All Do.....

2011-02-11T13:40:00.001-08:00

I have been thinking and thinking and thinking still some more about when and where I lost my motivation to write in a journal, blog, or diary regularly. It's not like it would take that much more effort. Maybe I don't think I have anything relevant to say. Perhaps it's because I wake up in the middle of the night with thoughts running around in my head and instead of getting my ass up and writing them down I make myself crazy with sleeplessness and attempt to lull myself back to sleep.
Whatever the reason it's a dumb one and I need to just get back into the groove of writing.

The problem is I have so much to say and I don't know where to begin. Maybe if I break it up into little sound bites it wouldn't so bad?

Okay so here goes:

I am so over Winter. The gray makes me sad. I don't know why I live in an area where it rains all the time. Probably because I am married to a great guy who loves it here. Spring and Summer can't come soon enough for me.

Jennifer Lahl is scary, very scary. I truly believe she's out to take our reproductive rights away. She produced this documentary called Eggsploitation. Aside from the fact it's not factually accurate she's scared the crap out of young women who want to help other women who can't have children.

I am not sure if we are going to throw a summer party this year. This is going to sound like a whole lot of whining but everyone comes and has a great time. It's never reciprocated. I think there is something wrong with me.

Why do I take things so personally? This is an ongoing question.

And now when things get uncomfortable I stop writing.

Like right now.

This is where I piss a lot of people off...

2011-01-10T18:00:00.000-08:00

Let's get one thing straight before I begin to commence on the pissing off of anyone who reads my blog: I like you are devestated about the shootings in Arizona.

d e v e s t a t e d

I have cried about this with real tears since the day it happened. It makes me angry, sad, and sick to my stomach all at once.

The shooter is clearly a nutcase that shouldn't have had the ability to purchase a firearm but he did. We can't do anything about that now. It happened.

However, I am going to say this and say it once - guns don't kill, people kill. Guns are a tool much like anything else. My thought is that a gun made it easier for this crazy psycho to do the collateral damage he set out to do. He would have done it with or without a gun.

To blame Sarah Palin (who I don't care for one bit) for his is utterly ridiculous. To focus on the ugliness that our country has become with all of it's back biting and infighting is right on the mark. We are a bunch of idiots who argue too much. But we can't place the blame on one party in regards to why we are all the way we are today.

Stupid.

It's January Ya'll

2011-01-04T11:22:00.000-08:00

I don't think there's going to be a specific purpose to this blog entry.

Really.

It's going to be random at best.

"In the time of chimpanzees, I was a monkey
Butane in my veins and I'm out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose"

How's that for random?

Writing for pleasure used to come so easy for me. I think I was pretty good at it. I might be deluding myself. Then I began to write for a living and I lost any zeal or zest for writing at all.

Ridiculous.

But I find when I don't write and download all this "stuff" in my head I don't think clearly or well and I am exhausted most of the time. So here I am taking a better stab at writing. The problem being is when I am out and about I find all this stuff to write about. And really I don't give a shit anymore who reads and who doesn't. In fact, for that matter I am getting pretty good about not giving a shit what people think about me and frankly, it's liberating. I used to worry so much about what people said or thought about me. And now, not so much. I don't think this is making me into a female version of Mr. Spock. I am still very much capable of getting my feelings hurt -- it's not that I am unfeeling but I am placing my energy and the ability to react to being hurt to those things that are energy worthy if that makes sense.

The ground looks hard.

I wonder if I should make any sort of blogging rules for myself. Like - I can only update once a day. or only on Wednesdays.

No, that's stupid.

I am glad the holidays are over for the most part. Christmas trees and stuff will come down on the 6th - or that weekend. We celebrate the Epiphany at our house so we wait until then. Then again, I think I am just lazy.

1500 calories a day doesn't go far.

I miss fried foods and sugar.

My travel schedule this year is going to be full. Originally wrote "fool" - maybe I am fool for traveling.

The spouse said as he was leaving for work on Monday -- "I could have used another week off"

I silently shrieked as I stood at the sink washing dishes and smiled and waved them out the door.

Looking back and moving forward....

2011-01-02T12:15:00.001-08:00

I don't even want to begin to rehash 2010. It was good, it was bad, and some parts of it were ugly.

To sum up a word for this year.

Laughter.

My plan is to laugh more.

I know I will travel more.

I know I need to blog more.

I know I need to bitch less.

I know I need to eat less.

I know I need to exercise more.

I know I need to do a lot more.

But no resolutions for me.

They are a complete waste of time.

The Day After....

2010-12-26T21:14:00.000-08:00

Christmas is now 364 days away...my nice china is washed, dried, and put away. The wine glasses are properly stored until next weekend (waahoo!). All the leftovers have been neatly packed up and stashed in the fridge. My dishwasher is whirring away happily as is my washer and dryer -- and my all time favorite song is blaring through my ear phones.

I am happy because there was no family drama this year -- which is always a nice thing to be grateful for. My in-laws are on their way to Palm Springs, which is some place I'd be happy to go to about now -- the rain and colds really getting to me.

My kid is playing a video game, and my husband is out in the man cave watching Salt I think. I don't know, he just said "I'm going to watch a movie" and I said "Bang bang, bloody, shoot em up movie?" He said "Yup" I said, "See ya" And proceeded to finish up my chores and settle back down into the office.

It's been a weird year. Really weird. Lots of peaks and valley's -- which is fine I guess. More frustrations really.

I'm not quite sure what next year is going to bring but I hope it's lots of fun surprises, wonderful opportunities and no drama.

I can do without drama.

It's been a slow as molasses day.

And I totally love that.

If Nanna Were Alive...

2010-12-19T22:36:00.000-08:00

She'd have been 95 on December 30th 2010.

You'd have loved my Nanna. No really, you would have. I don't know anyone who met her that didn't absolutely fall in love with her.

She was quirky, funny, amazing, genuine, goofy, tender hearted, stubborn, zany, silly, spontaneous, brilliant, and the lover of animals and her family.

God she loved her family, and she loved them hard -- she used to tell me she loved us all so much sometimes she couldn't catch her breath. I didn't understand what she meant until I had my child and then I got. I too love my child so much I sometimes forget to breathe.

Her spontaneity I think was one of my most favorite things about her -- I know that's where I get my mine from. I can remember one summer night my sister and I were staying with her at her house on the lake. We were up late, watching television. Her husband (my step grandfather) had gone to bed many hours earlier. A commercial for McDonald's appeared on the television and Nanna said "Oh my God, I am starving for a cheeseburger let's go!"

We were in our PJ's for cripes sakes. But that didn't stop her, she loaded all in the car at 10 PM and off we set to the nearest McDonald's 17 miles away. And cheeseburgers we did get, along with icy cold coke and french fries. As I recall we chattered about everything and nothing on the way home. It was lovely. Simply lovely.

As the years sped by and we grew older our conversations with her changed -- she wanted to make sure her granddaughters were independent -- fiercely so. She talked so much about Cathleen who we all referred to as Cat or Catbird -- Nanna talked about how it wasn't fair that she didn't get to see her two other grandchildren (Cat and Chad) like she did us. But she would then exhale and say "Life isn't fair, and it is what it is, and I beam my white light and love to them, I know they receive it every day" and that's how Nanna lived her life. She was a technicolor lady who didn't let anything set her back -- not even her illness.

She would have been so proud of Cat -- especially how Cat's become this accomplished writer, and has such a prolific way with words. You see, words were Nanna's thing. She loved words. She loved writing, talking, and most of all communicating.

Now I suppose this looks like I am attempting to establish Sainthood upon my grandmother which isn't true. If she taught me one thing that was that no one is perfect. Not even the great Alpha and the Omega as she would say -- everyone falls short no matter who they are.

My grandmother wasn't a saint. Not by a long shot. She burned the candle at both ends. She didn't take care of herself -- at all. She was overly emotional, she knew how to play the victim roll really well, and she did what she was going to do by God, and she wouldn't comply!

But those are the very things I loved about her the most. The things that made me laugh, and fist pump and say BOOYAH!

And miss her -- boy do I miss her. More than you know. She would have loved my son, God she would have loved him. The conversations they would have had -- EPIC.

For that matter she would have loved all of her great grandchildren very very much.

So now my son has a Nanna -- my mom. And my Mom is living up to every bit of the Nanna legacy my Nanan did.

It's neat. I love it.

I've been sitting on this for quite a while...

2010-12-06T11:09:00.000-08:00

You know when something happens and it bugs you, and it bugs you, and it bugs you so much that you think about it for days on end -- and it won't get out of your head, and it takes up too much head space, to the point that when you think about, or write about it you find yourself just going on and on and on with these ridiculously long long long rambling sentences?

Ugh -- that's where I am. I am stuck in an endless loop.

Stuck, stuck, stuck.

And I am still trying to figure out what happened -- and while I know there is no fixing it or going back, I need to just accept what happened and move the hell on.

So we made plans to meet some new friends for dinner and a movie. It was our treat, we offered. I scored some great tickets, and our kids get along, my hope is that the parents would all get along.

My first concern was our politics. We are at opposite ends of the political spectrum. My second concern was some of us would rather argue for the sake of arguing rather than really stop, open their ears, listen and really hear what the other party is saying. My last concern was (and it's the one I should have really paid mind to) was that some of us in our party have a total lack of respect for people in general. And that makes me really sad.

I wish I had listened to my gut instinct about all of this -- but I didn't. I wanted so much for everything to be as fun and easy as it is with our kids. But it wasn't. Not more than three minutes into dinner the "fireworks" began. Looking back it was very sad, pathetic, and a disaster. We ended up leaving very angry, hurt, and shaking our heads in a very "wtf" way.

It's bullshit like this that makes me wonder why the hell I ever reach out to people.

There's more to this story -- as there always is. But my biggest point is that I have tried for weeks to just put this out of my head, accept it for what it is, and move on. And I can't. I am so angry still, and there is so much more I want to say.

But sadly, I don't think it's worth it, the other party isn't going to listen, they are going to think they are right -- because that's what it's about I think -- especially for her. To be right.

And homey don't do bullying -- I made a promise to myself that I wasn't allow anyone to bully me or my family ever.

I am not looking for an apology -- I think I'd die on the spot if that were ever to happen.

Closure. I am looking for closure -- and regardless of how silent it all is, I think I am getting my closure.

Fuck You Lymphedema!

2010-12-02T09:26:00.001-08:00

Sometimes a video speaks a thousand words. I laughed myself silly when I saw this, and I couldn't stop laughing. This video is dedicated to my good friend Kathy, who's dealing with the fallings out of breast cancer and this icky side effect called lymphedema. Anyhow, Kathy is probably one of the strongest women I know -- and when I saw this video I can just see her telling her Lymphedema:

"Fuck You"

This is for you Kathy! Love ya girl!

So I have a chronic illness...

2010-11-14T22:59:00.001-08:00

and I have joined the ranks of millions of all people on this planet with a chronic illness.

I need a waaaaaambulance.

So what do I have you might be asking? Well, I will tell you -- I have been officially diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. I have been asked a million times over when I first thought something was amiss, wrong, or not quite right -- "When did you first notice symptoms?" That's hard for me to answer because for many years I have been in some sort of physical pain. If it wasn't due to multiple knee injuries, or sprains, it was something to do with my neck, or my back, or something. It never kept me down, I was always on the go. I ate my share of Motrin, or aleve, or Tylenol and continued to plow through. It wasn't until thid ungodly fatigue set in, and my entire body rebelled and said "OKAY THAT IS ENOUGH YOU ARE NOT GETTING OUT OF BED GODDAMIT" that I said up and took notice.

But when that happened, I can't even begin to tell you.

Since then, I have been tromping from doctor to doctor, specialist to specialist all who are quite perplexed with me. This blood level is perfectly normal, while this one is so far off the charts the worry that I have some tropical rare disease is crossing many minds.

But no rare tropical diseases, no cancer, they are on the fence about Rheumatoid Arthritis, positive for Osteo Arthritis, no lupus, no MS -- so now they are fresh out of thoughts and ideas my doctors are came together and said "She's got Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome" they go hand in hand.

And so they sent me out the door. With nothing but a pamphlet.

Dr. Google and I are going to resume our long, hot, and heavy affair while I read about this syndrome -- and learn how to deal, cope, and live.

I refuse to let something like this kick my ass.

If my friend Kathy can kick the shit out of breast cancer, I can do this.

Right?

I don't get it....

2010-11-10T08:16:00.000-08:00

I understand the need to vent feelings -- and writing about what bugs you is healthy. But really is it repsectful and healthy to chronically bitch, whine, and moan about your family on a public blog.

We don't bitch about our employers on our public blog because we could easily be fired and lose our jobs.

Don't you think that being fired from your family, hurting them, and possibly losing them is just as important as losing your job?

I totally get what its like to be frustrated with your family. I get that sometimes we want to box them up and send them to outer Siberia, or better yet punch them in the face because they are knuckleheads. But leave your serious bitching and calling them out on stuff either to their face where they can defend themselves, or write about it privately.

There are always two sides to every story regardless of how much we don't want there to be.

Can it be almost November already?

2010-10-29T18:35:00.000-07:00

This is what happens when life gets in the way. All your best laid plans go poof. My intention for this blog was to write everyday.

Every.single.day.

But then "stuff" happens, a crisis, two crisis, several crisis -- some personal, some business, some educational, some fucking stupid. Add to that raising a family, working, and tending to a bunch of other crap and oh yes add Facebook, and guess what there's no time for writing.

So -- while I was circling the school parking lot like a hungry shark looking for a parking place I began to think of several blog topics I could be writing about. One of them is why we get the best ideas to write when we are doing something completely different than writing. This always happens to me and it's really irritating.

I mean for cripes sakes I was conducting important business, I was delivering a turkey my son made for an art project for class:

Pretty spectacular if I do say so myself. He didn't want to do a regular turkey he wanted something different, so we came up with this kind of crazy, psychedelic turkey with real feathers, and quotes about Thanksgiving, with a Las Vegas kind of a tone. I think his teacher loved it.

At any rate, as I was circling the parking lot I was thinking about why when we are focused on one activity why we think of other things we should be doing.

I guess that's how we women can sometimes balance or checkbooks, or create a shopping list in our heads during sex.

Moving on - it's November -- and what the hell have I been doing since August? Traveling for work, flying which I hate, meeting new people which I love, growing my business which is hard work, missing my family which I hate, and doing the single parent thing when my husband travels on business which I like for one day and then I want my husband home.

As I sat and watched the sky go by I wanted to reach out and jump through the clouds like a kid would jump on a trampoline. I forgot for about 3 seconds how frightened I am of flying. But then the fear came back and I took an Ativan and all was well.

That little speck way out in the distance was a mountain top believe it or not. I then began to worry if other mountain tops were sticking up through the clouds and the pilot wouldn't be able to see them and we might hit one and poke a hole in our plane and die.

Ridiculous I know, but I am irrational that way when I am freaking out about things I can't control, like flying at 37,000 feet.

I will never be a good flyer ever.

By the 4th day of my trip I was exhausted, and this is me sans makeup. The eyeliner you see is what's left over from the night before, a hot shower, and a morning scrub. MAC waterproof eye liner doesn't come up, you have to wear it off. It's crazy I tell you. Just insane.

The air conditioner didn't work and so I called engineering up to my room at midnight, it was that bad. And then there were spiders in my room, black ones. I killed them, kept them, and showed them to the hotel manager. He freaked out worse than me.

I will say the food was delicious. d.e.l.i.c.i.o.u.s. I was a good girl and didn't gain anything on my trip which I am forever grateful . We were at a place on the beach in Venice that was utterly amazing. I learned all about wine, body types, and banana hammocks that men wear. It was incredibly educational.

I met more really nice people, and got to see friends I hadn't seen in a long time, and I left with a great sense of accomplishment.

Now it helped I flew first class, had a driver, and my assistant that went with me was easy to travel with, hilarious, and knew Southern California backwards and forwards. All those things helped.

And like all good things, they come to an end, so I found myself at O'Dark O'clock sitting in the lounge at Alaska Airlines waiting to go home.
I was so glad to be home:)

My hope is to write more. But I am not promising anything.

When you can't help...

2010-10-17T10:46:00.000-07:00

One of my dearest and most closest friends lost his father yesterday. His father was in his late 80's, and indeed lived a full life but this was his dad, his companion, his pal, his roomate, his buddy, and his friend.

I missed the call and heard the message on my voice mail. The tears with a mind of their own slid down my face as I listened. Part way through I had to hang up, and ask my husband to listen for me and share with me the details.

It was so painful.

We all grieve so differently. I want to be surrounded by my family and my friends. I want to talk about it all.

So when my friend asked me not to call I had to respect that. I did text to make sure he wasn't alone, and was with someone, and that he was eating and sleeping. All I want to do is go over there and sit with him.

But he's not me.

So I feel as if I am not helping at all. I'd do anything for my friend, he's such an amazing person.

But for right now I just sit and wait for him to let me know what it is he needs.

That's the hardest part of all.

Finally....

2010-10-10T21:50:00.000-07:00

Oh.My.God

The Italian Consulate.

One - Ms. Anna Maria Stone, Cittadinanza for the Italian Consulate

Many many many emails.

Lot's of misinformation.

Our intentions: To re-establish my husbands Italian citizenship that he has always had, never lost, even though he's an American citizen. He has dual citizenship. We want to establish Italian citizenship for my son, and apply for Italian citizenship for myself because I am married to an Italian born and raised in Italy.

The hoops are so ridiculous that one must schedule an in person visit one to two years in advance to even apply. It's crazy.

All I can tell you is that the Italian consulate is one big unorganized headache. However, after one lovely telephone call from the a lovely young man who knew his stuff . After listening to my husband relate his information this young man stated to my husband not only does he not have to fly to San Francisco for this appointment, he can do it all through mail.

And that's what happens kids when you talk to someone on the telephone instead of emailing.

Oy.

Out of sight out of mind? Or really - self absorption

2010-10-03T13:30:00.000-07:00

My blog entry I think might sting a few. Hit home to a few. Make a few mad. Make a few nod their heads in agreement, even if only for a few moments as they read my words.

As a kid I really enjoyed making friends. That wasn't something that was hard. Being naturally an extrovert and gregarious no one would ever suspect for a second that inside I possibly be shy. However, I was. Incredibly so. So shy to the point that I would blurt out weird things, and laugh a lot to mask the "fraidy cat" in me.

When I reached adulthood I became more comfortable with my shyness and became more comfortable not only in my own skin but around other people as well. I realized during this time that I really liked people in general -- and enjoyed socializing. Even as I dated and eventually married I found myself drawn to the quiet guys in the dating scene. The tall, dark, brooding sort. I am not sure if I thought I would draw them out of their introverted shell, or that I thought perhaps there was this really crazy, maniac of a person inside like me dying to get out.

My experience in regards to socializing would go like this -- meet new people, hit it off, make plans to spend time together, spend time together, find more things in common, both parties would verbalize how fun it was to spend time together, let's do it again soon. And then nothing.

*crickets*

As I said nothing. Time would go by, then the three month mark would go by, then the six month mark would go by. I'd give a call. (It was and always is me who reaches out to others not the other way around.) Almost always I was met with "Wow, hey how ARE YOU?" Jesus has it been SIX MONTHS? We would all have a great time. I would get compliments on the food, the atmosphere. I am always told I am the hostess with the mostess blah blah... And a typical dialogue would go something like this:

Them: "I am so glad we reconnected it's been way to long."
Me: "Us to. We are so glad to see you again, it's been forever."
Them: "Let's not make it six months ago? Promise?"
Me: "Promise, just give us a call we love to get together anytime."
Them: "Deal!"

And so everyone goes their separate ways and once again times go by. No email. No phone call. Not even a post on face book to say "Hi, we are thinking about you." Zero.

So I am left with is it just out of sight out of mind? Is it about being self absorbed. Am I too sensitive? (which could be rightly so), or is all of that above just bullshit, and people of today don't know how to say "We are just not that into you."

My closing remarks -- if you are one of these people that doesn't hold up your end up a friendship, get off your ass and pick up the phone, fire up an email, or actually go to Hallmark and buy a card. Take ten minutes out of your day and let those love and know that you are thinking about them and they mean something to you.

I guarantee it will make their day.

Off We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder...

2010-09-20T22:29:00.000-07:00

Early Wednesday morning when my family is still tucked away in dreams ville, before the rooster crows, or the birds begin to sing I will be boarding a jet for Los Angeles.

It's no secret I am not a good flyer. Regardless of how many "Overcome your fear of flying" workshops I have attended. No matter how many pilots have explained to me that flying is much safer than driving a car. I am still scared shitless when I fly.

This time however a work colleague is coming with which helps. Someone who an commiserate with me. Thankfully Los Angeles isn't a horribly long flight. And because I am terrified of flying I make sure I am comfortable when I fly and I don't apologize for flying first class.

My hope is the flight coming and going will be smooth, the business trip will be a success, and I will be home before my family can miss me. Well, fat chance about that, they are already acting like I am going on an expedition to Africa instead of Los Angeles.

Anyhow, I am hoping I don't get fat ankles, and I hope I have zero panic attacks.

I accept all thoughts, chants and prayers for the above.

The mentality of a bully.

2010-09-19T10:56:00.000-07:00

In school we had a bully on the playground. His name was Eric. Eric lived next door to me and bullied every kid on the block. Eric was so dumb that he attempted to bully the bigger kids on the block. They ended up kicking his ass every time. One would think Eric would learn that you don't bully kids bigger than you. But no. And so Eric would go home with black eyes, and ripped shirts and come back for more.

Some of the kids in the neighborhood were terrified of Eric. I mean terrified. Not me. I was a lot smaller than Eric. He would attempt to bully me and I'd go postal on him, much like a pole cat. Our parents would always break it up and we'd go off to our respective corners seething. My mom would tell me it wasn't nice to fight and my Dad would say, "Kick his ass if he touches you." And so I would try.

One day I was out in front yard with my father raking leaves and Eric and his father were out in the front yard raking leaves. I am not sure what transpired, but I got the gist of it -- Eric forgot to do something and his father began literally kicking his ass around the front yard, screaming at him at the top of his lungs, and calling him tons of names.

My father and I looked at each other and we both understood right at that moment why Eric was a bully.

So the point of my post -- If I knew Eric today and Eric had a journal my guess is that he'd bully people through his journal. He would be smart enough (I hope) that if he bullied people in person he'd either go to jail or be sued because there are laws against harassment like that.

And so in looking at those who go out of their way to publicly humiliate other people they are nothing but bullies like Eric.

It makes me really sad to see individuals bully other people. But really there is no talking to a bully -- they feel they are justified in what they do, they feel they are the victims and those they harass deserve it and have it coming.

My thoughts are with a friend of mine who is being harassed by a bully. My hope is that she rise above the situation, keep her head held high and ignore the bully. Bully's thrive on reaction, if you don't reacte that eventually stop.

Oh What Great Lessons We Learn...

2010-09-13T21:31:00.001-07:00

I had just hung up from talking to my cousin Cathleen when my other phone rang. Looking at the caller ID I immeadiately recognized the number as my son's elementary school. I glanced at the time as I said hello and realized that it was almost 3:30 and my son should have been on the bus.

This little sad and pitiful voice squeaked out "Mom, it's me."

My mom instinct kicked in and I was on full alert. After all my son should have been on the bus.

"Hi honey are you okay?" I asked.

And that's all it took the sound of a familiar voice. A safe voice. The voice of mom. -- The flood gates opened and all I could hear was the sound of loud sobs coming from the receiver.

I shifted into fix it mode and quietly assured him he was okay -- I asked him if he was hurt or sick. "No, no, it wasn't that" was his reply.

"Then tell Mom what's wrong" I asked gently, realizing this kid was really upset.

"I missssed the bussss" he sobbed. "And I'mmm reallly really scared."

Exhaling I grabbed my purse, keys, and cell phone, and stepped into my crocs and said "Honey hang tight I am on my way." He replied with something I couldn't understand and gave the phone to the school secretary. I shared with her that my son is the biggest rule follower ever, and him missing the bus is a catastrophe in his book and to please give him a cold glass of water and reassure him I will be there in two shakes.

The secretary was incredibly kind -- and said she'd take good care of him and she'd see me in a few minutes.

So off I went to collect my little lost cub.

When I arrived at the school I quickly made my way to office and before I could get through the door my son who doesn't show much affection in public had met me at the door and flung his arms around me as he sobbed into my neck.

"Mom I didn't think I'd see you again, I was so scared." He said in a voice just above a whisper as he gulped down his sobs.

I sat with him on the bench as both secretaries looked on -- I was oblivious to everyone around me -- this was my child and he was a wreck.

We talked for a few minutes, and I thanked the secretaries for taking care of my son, and I suggested we go home. My son aggreed and said thank you to the secretaries and placed a death grip on my hand and didn't let go all the way to the parking lot.

Poor kid was that scared.

On the way home I asked him to walk me through what happened not leaving out a single detail -- he painstakingly described everything from the part about the bus being late, and that the playground duty aid telling them it was okay to go play on the playground, and she would blow her whistle when it was time to line up, to the little boy who fell and hurt his knee, to the fact that my son saw his bus pull up and that he chose to continue to play and then turned around and watched his bus leave the drive way and turn left realizing he was the only one on the playground.

That's when his panic set in.

I asked him what he thought me might do differently next time -- I didn't even have the chance to get those words out as he blurted "I am never missing my bus again, I will always make it to my bus on time Mom! I swear!"

You know that poor kid continued to cry on and off for the rest of the evening, and even laid down after dinner. The experience totally knocked the wind out of him.

As I relayed what happened to my husband we both chuckled because we know our son very well, and as my cousin describes him -- "He's so sweet you just want to dunk him in milk and eat him" his poor little spirit took a battering today.

I can remember what it's like to be little like that and feel that fear. That fear you aren't ever going to see your Mom again. It's horrible.

So while I am happy that my child learned an important lesson -- it broke my heart that he had to feel that horrific fear, even for a few moments.

We Remember - Least We Forget

2010-09-11T11:23:00.000-07:00

I try to post yearly all the names of all the victims whose lives were lost on 09/11/2001.

Instead of doing that I'd like to direct you to this place.

What they have done surpasses anything I could have ever thought to do.

My thoughts and prayers are with those who were lost in 9/11.

My four friends whose lives were lost that day wherever you are, I miss you, I love you and I will never forget you.

On The Other End Of The Spectrum...

2010-09-08T07:19:00.000-07:00

I hesitate to use the word spectrum because my child isn't autistic. I use the word spectrum because I think what he possesses is not only amazing but I think it's a phenonmenon of sorts -- where as he isn't neurotypical and I think the only thing seperating him from the other special needs kids is the fact he's brilliant and about 150 points in IQ.

As I read the following passage below I wept because this could really be my child.

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this:
A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.
To him...
a touch is a blow,
a sound is a noise,
a misfortune is a tragedy,
a joy is an ecstasy,
a friend is a lover,
a lover is a god,
and failure is death.

Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - - - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating."
-Pearl Buck-

I smile outwardly when others who notice my son's gifts lament to me about how "lucky I am to have a child who is so incredibly bright"

Inwardly, I cringe because they have no idea how challenging this can all be.

Wish Upon A Star in Alaska!

2010-09-01T16:05:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here still feeling the gentle swaying of the ship and reflecting about my first cruise ever to Alaska, and there's so much to tell and say, and, and, and you get the point I am sure.

I don't think anyone could have prepared me for this experience; it's truly one of those you have to experience firsthand to really understand what it's all about.

Because I am a weenie when it comes to traveling -- (my idea of camping is the Four Seasons) I wasn't sure what the cabins would be like so we booked a suite. During this time our PCC made sure our excursions were taken care of, listened to me fret about the worry of being sick, and a myriad of other things I asked about. Over the course of 4 months my PCC Jared and I developed a friendly rapport and I can't thank him enough.

The night of the 20th we drove to Seattle, and spent the night at the Marriott. It was expensive, and the room was okay, but we didn't really care about the room, we just wanted the 20th to be over so we could begin our adventure. After a really expensive and horrible meal at the Crab Pot on the waterfront we took a leisurely walk back to our hotel and settled in for the night.
We tossed and turned due to excitement I am sure -- before we knew it, it was 8:00 AM. We ordered breakfast and talked about what we thought "it" was going to be like.

I can't remember a time I have been this giddy. Maybe when I was a child during Christmas? Or perhaps the night before I married my husband or gave birth to my son. This chick was giddy!

Boarding was easy – we had booked a suite and had preboarding embarkation privileges. Those kinds of things are worth it to me – I hate standing in line due to a hip and knee injury.

The level of service from start to finish was really amazing. In a matter of minutes we were escorted to the lounge where we met our concierge Patrick, had a few refreshments, and before we knew it we were being escorted to the ship. Our cards were scanned, we heard that lovely “ping” and then we were welcomed aboard and taken to Cagney’s which is probably one of the nicest steakhouses I have ever been to.

I wasn't sure what to have so I chose a huge shrimp cocktail and chicken -- which is hard to screw up. Man was the chicken amazing, and so was the shrimp, and the service, and, and, and.

Our server was Syndrea, hands down one of the loveliest people I have ever met. She took a shine to my son, fawned all over him, and made us feel special. She was amazing.

After a delightful lunch, many text messages and photos and OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS a lovely lady appeared and escorted us to our cabin.The cabin was really nice. I am not sure what I was expecting. It was darker than I think I anticipated -- I know I was frustrated because the curtains only opened one way and I would have liked more light. But my gosh to complain about that is ridiculous. I just spent a lot of time outside on our deck!

Our butler appeared - Flor, another lovely lovely woman. Our luggage hadn't arrived and my husband was a little twitchy about that but she assured him it would arrive and she would help us put our clothes away. After a few moments to settle in I felt nervous in doing this but I handed her 20.00 and shared with her that my husband really liked his ice bucket full and could she make sure it stayed that way. She smiled and said "But of course and thank you" (The ice bucket was never ever empty).

During this time she wanted to know if we wanted some espresso and we both said yes. I wanted to watch her make the first cup, as that's something I have always done for my husband is bring him his first cup of coffee. It's an I love you thing. Neither Flor nor I were sure how to operate this machine, and so we both bonded over learning how to froth milk and laugh oh did we laugh.

This set the tone for our entire cruise. She loved us and we loved her. And oh my gosh, she spoiled our son rotten. (Later I found out he was the only child in the suite section -- and all of the stewards butlers made sure to say hello to him and he enjoyed that).

Our concierge Patrick and our steward Vincent arrived both bearing letters -- the concierge sat down with us and made it very clear that no matter what we wanted or needed we just needed to let him know. Vincent wanted to make sure I knew the ice would never be empty, he would see to it. He then made sure our deck was ready, and brought our son an extra deck chair. I followed him out to the deck and handed him a 20 dollar bill as well, thanked him ahead of time, and told him I hoped we wouldn't be too big of a pain in the neck. He laughed and said "Don't be silly - you guys are great, I could hear Flor laugh all the way down the hall."

Finally they all left and we began to check out the room. This is when I first noticed a really odd odor. It was cross between latrine and alcohol (like rubbing alcohol) and stale water. It was odd, and creepy. I asked my husband if he could smell it, and he said it was probably because we were in port and they were doing something with the sanitation. (More about that later)
Before we knew it was 3:30 PM and time for our drill, once we completed our drill and headed back to our room it was time to set sail and we were on our way.

We decided to go to Ginza our first night and it was amazing. The sushi was fantastic, the wine was wonderful, as well as all of the other Asian dishes. We met Joey the Assistant Restaurant Manager who is a dead ringer for an Asian Gary Shandling. When I told him who I thought he looked like he said - "You know I get that a lot" After supper we took a stroll on the deck and continued to explore the ship, enjoyed the sea air, ordered the kid some ice cream from out butler and turned in around 11:00 PM.

And that was the first day aboard the Star.

Some highlights -

Breakfast from any of the specialty restaurants that offer breakfast in your room.

Whale watching in Juneau. The photos we got were fantastic. We saw Orcas AND Humpbacks in the same area which the skipper from the excursion we chartered said doesn't happen often. They also put a microphone down in the water and you could hear the whales sing to one another which brought tears to my eyes. That was worth the trip itself.

The Chef's Table excursion in Ketchikan -- for one rainy rainy town the food was fabulous. I tried Black Cod (Sable fish) for the first time and became a fan. Ryan the young (24 year old) chef created lovely dishes with fresh ingredients, I recommend it to anyone. It was well worth the 125.00 we shelled out per person.
A deep conditioning and style at the salon as well as a 75 minute sports massage. (Just say no thank you to all the stuff they want to sell you, they get the message).

The larger than life prawns at Cagney’s

The literally cut it with a fork tender steak at Le Bistro

The Cagney's French fries

The antipasto plate at La Cucina

Anything at Ginza - I mean anything. I think I personally ate 3 Dynamite rolls myself.

If you stay in a suite the mid afternoon snack they bring you. Cheese and fruit, or sweets. It was all great.

Sleeping like a baby at night -- the gentle motion of the ship was like being in a big cradle. I sleep better than I have in years.

The hospitality of 99% of the crew.
Bingo -- it was a hoot, and the assistant Cruise Director Joel is just hilarious. However, if you have kids, I am not sure I'd bring my child if they were under 13. There was some adult conversation about the number O-69 that we could have done without. I don't think I need to go any further with that!

The wait staff. FANTASTIC. Hands down, we didn't meet one wait person, wine steward, or maître d' that wasn't nice and accommodating. Monique the restaurant manager actually made time to help my husband find a bottle of wine they said they were out of.
Again the butler and steward really went out of their way to make us feel at home and take care of our son, who they said over and over was well behaved and not a pain in the neck. There were 350 kids on board and we saw all kinds of stuff from really great kids to kids that I am sure parents would have liked to have left at the Kids Center the entire trip.

The portions on the ship regarding food - PERFECT size!!!

We had a private tour of the bridge and all I can say is WOW. It was mind blowing, and the staff and officers were so kind. They explained why we didn't get to travel further and see Sawyer Glacier close up -- I was horribly disappointed about that, but safety first.
The guys at the end of the crew finale with the spray bottles who danced and sang "We are family" they were funny - in fact the entire finale was heartwarming.

Things that were not so great about our cruise (there are not many):

The odor in our room. No matter where I go I take air freshener with me when I travel. I mean let's be real when there are three people sharing a room the last thing you want to smell is someone else's poop, right? So I bring Lysol and everyone is happy. Every time we'd enter our room in the foyer as we entered this room we could smell this horrible odor. After about 5 minutes we'd get used to it. However, after about an hour we'd feel sick to our stomach and have a headache. We'd open our door to the deck and air out the room and breath fresh air and we'd be okay. The second day I asked our Butler and Steward if they smelled it. They said they couldn't, but kindly reminded me that I had been spraying Lysol and to them that is all they smelled -- so stop spraying and let it build up. So we did and sure enough the smell came back and this time they called the deck supervisor Edgar, as well as our concierge. Both men came up took a whiff and said "ICK what is that" No one knew, we all shrugged our shoulders, and began pulling everything out to see if something had died. We couldn't find anything. Next, the AC guys came up to check out the air conditioning. They found one plugged drain with rancid standing water. They unplugged it, cleaned it out, and they left 2 air purifiers in our room. That helped -- kind of. At least the headaches and the nausea went away. But the smell sort of stuck around. Everyone but us was freaking out. They offered to move us to a different cabin, but the cabin they had available was smaller than the one we were in, and my husband felt like he needed more room as it was. (We have decided our next cruise will be an owner’s suite. I'd rather save for it and travel comfortably; he's a very tall guy that needs room). The ship bought us dinner at Cagney's minus alcohol, they also didn't pay for Lobster and that's fine with me. I felt weird accepting it.

The soda card rip off. We were lead to believe that the soda card covered everything even bottled water. Nope. It sure doesn't. The soda card covers everything that comes out of the soda fountain. Now on the Star the ginger ale was broken for a few days so they were giving out cans. I asked our Butler since they were giving out cans could we get cans delivered. She said yes, for 2.25 So we ran down and they end up giving us a few at a time, we'd bring them back up to the room. And that's how we did it. We figured we'd need to drink a heck of a lot of soda to make that work for our family. I myself drank a bottle of San Pellegrino a night at 4.50 a pop. So next time no soda card.

The gratuity system. -- I don't mind spending 12.00 per day per person. In fact, we gave our concierge, our butler and steward an extra 50.00 in cash without blinking. They seemed almost embarrassed to take it. What irked me was anytime we bought a beverage in the restaurant they charged a gratuity, I felt they were double dipping. I may be mistaken thinking that the bartenders don’t receive the group gratuity.

Everything is for sale! Bingo, art, jewelry, make up, hair products, they want you to spend spend spend. I will say the ship's store was reasonably priced for the most part. But everywhere I turned around they wanted me to buy something. I learned to smile and say no thank you a lot.
Not being able to see Sawyer Glacier full on, but safety first we don't need the Titanic out there.
Last but not least -- Candi the Cruise Director, a lovely woman, but after 2 days of hearing her voice I wanted ear plugs ha ha. I learned how to imitate her perfectly, my family hates me now! She just has one of those voices that grate on your ears after a while.

Things I learned -

It's a ship not a boat.

Forward is forward, and aft is the back of the ship

A green apple does wonders for any sort of sea sickness. Bonine is my friend, but take it beginning on the Wed before you set sail. And take it like clockwork. It doesn't make you sleepy
If your room is forward you will feel the motion of the ocean more, but it's a great place to see ports, glaciers, and whales.

Last but not least, we had one really rude encounter. One woman from the excursion desk needed a huge time out. I think by the time my husband finished talking with her boss she was going to get more than a time out -- her behavior was deplorable. I am still saying "OMG" when I think about it. She was totally not NCL material.

Would I do it again?

Is the Pope a Catholic as my Dad would say?

More Photos of Alaska:

(Sawyer Glacier - we couldn't go much further because of ice)

(Our Ship the Norwegian Star)

Off the the races...

2010-08-20T07:25:00.000-07:00

Yours truly is taking a vacation for the first time in a long time. A real vacation. Not a stay-cay-tion, not a throw your stuff into a bag and go away for a long weekend. This vacation includes:

Tickets - The cruise kind!
Some dress up clothes
Some casual clothes
Some bathing suits
Some rain gear
Lots of books
a PASSPORT
A camera
Did I say lots of books?

I am headed with the family on a cruise to Alaska.

Will check in when I return!

Banana Slug Bugs

2010-08-06T19:50:00.000-07:00

My son ~~roped~~ asked me to play this ~~insanely wicked~~ delightful game called "Banana". This ~~pain in the ass~~ amazingly fun game is simple. When you see a yellow vehicle you yell "Banana"

And to make it that much more ~~ridiuclous~~ fun we added the game of "slug bug" -- where if you see a Volks Wagon Beetle Bug you simply yell SLUG BUG and slug the person in the arm who you are playing with.

Sounds delightfully simple yes?

Okay so today we are headed into Portland to trade my son's piece of crap cell phone for an 8 GB Iphone. As we arrive into our fair city I really have to pee. I mean I had.to.pee

My son decides now's the time to go full bore with the banana and slug bug ~~shit~~ game.

Son: "Banana, Banana, Banana! Oh MOM A BANANA SLUG BUG!!!!"

Me: Oh Christ, Hey! Watch it I have to pee.

Son: MOM! MOM! BANANA! Look! Oh MY GOD MOM WE ARE COMING TO THE VOLKS WAGON DEALER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! SLUG BUG! OHMYGODMOMSLUGBUG NIRVANA!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I am all the while imploding because my bladder is ready to burst and I just started yelling:

ME: AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESLUGBUGJESUSCHRISTHELPMELORDJESUSIHAVETOPEEAIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESLUGBUGBANANASOUTMYASSHELPMEOHLORDIHAVEGOTTOPEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

All the while my son is literally rolling around in the backseat laughing his ass off while I try like hell to find a bathroom.

I found one.

And all was right with the world.

Netherland Estrogen

2010-07-30T10:12:00.000-07:00

Ah you might think this is all about post menopausal nuns who's urine we collected in the 70's for Pergonal, one of the first fertility drugs for women who were going to be artificially inseminated.

But alas - no!

It's about my four "girl" cousins who came "a callin" all the way from the Netherlands.

And can I say we are having an amazing time as they are still here.

We have two generations of cousins at our Casa which is not only fun but incredible to watch and see. My first cousin Cat is here, this is the cousin I grew up with. Our parents are siblings -- and we spent a significant amount of time together as kids.

I then had a child who's a boy, and then my cousin Cat had three girls. A delight of a young woman "Lark" because she sings beautifully like a Lark, her voice trills melodiously each time she sings. And bringing up the rear are a set of identical twins that I refer to as "Pixie and Trixi" because they both are so incredibly cute, funny, and impish.

And then last but not least my Mom's been here to help out.

The house is bubbling over with estrogen, there's no way around it. When the "census" is taken it's 6 women (including myself) and then my son and husband. And I have to say my son has been a trouper being surrounded by all "these women folk" as he so fondly refers to all of us as.

Last evening my sister in law and her two girls came to dinner and to meet the cousins and play. So we added three more "women folk" to the mix.

And then there were eight.

Eight women.

All I can say is

"hahahahahahahahahahahhahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha"

More to come:)

It's hotter than hell...

2010-07-09T18:49:00.000-07:00

God I am such a fickle girl. First I whine because it rains, and now I am actively whining because it's freaking 100+ degrees and I gotta go to the store, and I have been cleaning all day, and, and, and....

Lovely thoughts of summer...

2010-07-07T09:56:00.000-07:00

I want to laze around in my pajamas all day. Read a meaningless book. Watch silly movies. Eat popcorn sprinkled with parmesean cheese and eat cherry turn overs. Maybe drink a real coke or two.

But no that's not going to happen. I am going to take a shower, get dressed, do my household chores, go to work, run my child hither and yon, come home, make dinner, do more laundry, lather, wash, rinse, repeat.

It was so much easier when I was a kid and I was bored and the only anxiety I had was whether the Metcalf girls were going to invite me over for lunch or not.

From The Lips Of A Mother...

2010-07-01T23:20:00.000-07:00

"Kyron is still alive. We would like all of you, everyone, to continue to get his face out there, to continue looking for him in your day-to-day activities. We pray each day for Kyron. We are working with investigators daily to bring Kyron home. We are extremely confident in how the investigation is going to bring him home to us. We implore Terri Horman to fully cooperate with investigators to bring Kyron home."
-Desiree Young, July 1st, 2010

Desiree -

All I can say is that from your lips to God's ears -- I am keeping your entire family in my thoughts and prayers. I cannot fathom the hell you are going through. I think we all are hugging our children a little tighter and I know I thank God for my kid each and every day.

My hope is that your intuition is right and that Kyron is alive. This is one family in Oregon that will be lighting a candle and praying.

A Letter to Terri Horman -

2010-06-29T21:50:00.000-07:00

As a mother of a child my worst fear is that an illness, accident, or some sort of harm will come to my child. I think that's every mother's fear. We love our children so very much sometimes we forget to breathe.

When I first heard about the news of little Kyron my heart froze for an instant -- Skyline Elementary is not too terribly far from our little country school. We too have science fairs, spring carnivals, and all kinds of other school events with people and kids coming and going. I have always felt our school was perfectly safe.

Until now.

Kyron's been apart from his family 25 days now. Terry whoever took him has had 25 days to think about this. Could you spend 25 days apart from your daughter without losing your mind? Especially if you didn't know her wear abouts? Don't you think his mother Desiree and his father Kaine have the right to know where their son is?

I know if that were my child I'd be out of my mind not resting until my child was found.

So what are you doing? You haven't said a thing. Not nary a word. We now see that Kaine has filed for divorce and sought a restraining order against you, he's even removed your daughter from the family home and he's living elsewhere.

I want to know why?

Judges just don't grant restraining orders in Oregon unless there is truly a chance of harm to another.

I have so many questions for you -- questions I wish you'd answer:

Why didn't you walk Kyron to class and make contact with his teacher that day? Most parents do.

Why were you spending time on facebook with your friends, and updating about going to the gym.

Why didn't you change your photo on facebook when complete strangers who didn't know Kyron but were worried for him changed their photos to show him.

It took you six days.

Why did you tell the authorities that you were calling from one place but really you were calling from Sauvie Island?

Why did your husband file for divorce?

Why were you not a part of the statement your family released to the media and the public.

Why did the authorities ask you to take a polygraph test not once by twice?

Why did the authorities take your truck not once but twice?

Why did your older son leave the family home and go live with his father?

How can you sleep at night?

Why did your father tell People Magazine that there is a 50-50 chance you will be arrested?

From one mother to another -- if you know anything at all about the where abouts of Kyron, if you know how he is, or where he is, or anything, please do the right thing even if the right thing is really really scary and hard -- be honest and tell the truth.

Desiree and Kaine deserve to know where their son is.

My Nanna Amongst Other Things....

2010-06-28T23:23:00.000-07:00

My cousin Cathleen who is an extraordinarily gifted writer shared memories of Benson Lake -- a lake she spent time at with her father, (My Uncle Charlie) and her step mother, (My Aunt Dawn)at their weekend cabin. This got me to thinking about the lake I spent a lot of my childhood at, and lived at the last four years of high school.

Nanna (my mother's mother) originally bought this little cabin on this amazing little lake way back in the 50's I do believe. Lake Deaveraux was the lake -- adjacent to this lake was a girl scout camp. After she bought the cabin Nanna and her husband added on to it, and lived there quite happily for many many years until my parents bought the place from them in 1977 I believe.

Up until that time we'd spend weekends, parts of the summer, and any time we could beg out of our parents -- it was a magical place. It really was. At night you could hear the symphony of bull frogs as they called to one another as well as the crickets who would add their melody to the mix. It was common to see deer (or actually run into them when we would take out the trash), or flying squirlls -- in fact, Nanna had two pet raccoons, "Babe and Pepper" that she hand fed quite regularly much to her husbands chargin.

I am not sure what made it magical -- the place itself, or Nanna.

Nanna, Nanna, Nanna.... If I sit here in the quiet of the house, and if I close my eyes, and just sit with myself and I think of Nanna I can almost hear her laughter. It was this rich, full, buttery, yummy, laugh. And when she laughed, she laughed -- oh my God. She's throw her head back, and it would just roll out of her, and her entire body would laugh.

"Stop! Stop! Stop it! You are going to make me wet my pants! Dammit you guys!" she would cry as she would belly laugh with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of lukewarm coffee in the other.

Her eyes were emerald green, her hair in her prime was red, she also had a widows peak -- she loved the fact that some wondered if she was mystical. That always made me laugh.

She sure loved her lake. The stories she would tell about the lake late at night as we would lay in bed on warm summer nights were fantastic. The windows would be open, the breeze would drift lazily across our faces, and we'd fall asleep to tales of those who would gather at the lake.

Nanna was a people person and had this ability to draw people to her. It was nothing to have a house full of people on any given night, regardless if she had to get up to work the next day. She was also impulsive. I can remember one night around 9:30 or so -- again it was summertime my sister and I were in our nightgowns and a commercial for McDonald's Big Mac came on. One of us smacked our lips and said "That looks good!" Before I knew it we were loaded in the car headed to Bremerton, 17 miles a way to the drive through at McDonald's -- for a Big Mac and a Coke!

And of course with her impulsiveness came drama -- and lots of it. Looking back all the drama just makes me laugh now - even though it probably wasn't funny at the time.

I can remember being so proud of myself the day I swam across that lake with Nanna. My Aunt Novell, and Nanna's best friend shouted from the shore encouragements. I remember being scared, and Nanna coaxing me along -- "You can do it sweetheart, you are half way there" She told me a story about Indians she saw one night that were apparaitions -- and I asked her through my paddling if she wasn't sure she hadn't drunk too much wine. No, no, she was earnest she saw Indian spirits -- she took her spirituality very seriously. As I swam along side of her I thought that aside from doing something extraordinary, I was swimming with a grandmother, and not just any old grandmother -- my grandmother was swimming the width of what I thought was a pretty big lake. As we made it to shore we sat on a big log and hugged each other -- the praise she gave me was amazing. And then I worried I'd catch hell from my mother for swimming across the lake.

Nanna said "We just don't need to tell her" and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

There are so many stories I could tell about Nanna. In fact, one time I got so angry with her because she said to me during a serious conversation that I shouldn't prostitute myself. I was appalled -- and thankfully my Mom interviened and referreed rather and explained that the term her mother was using wasn't being used in the context to which I interprated it as.

I think what's sad for me about Nanna is when I talk about her I am reminded that Cathleen didn't share the same relationship with Nanna as I did. And that's a damn shame -- she was an amazing, quirky, funny, genuine woman that I am told I am a lot like.

And that makes me happy.

You aren't so little anymore...

2010-06-18T11:09:00.000-07:00

When I see you now, we are eye to eye. When I find the need to scold you or make my point I find myself standing up straighter and taller in hopes of still having an inch over you height wise.

That's so not happening.

When you stepped off the bus you seemed changed -- grown up even. Messenger bag slung over your shoulder, a look of resignation almost as you stepped into the car. When I asked you how your day was it was then that you let those hot wet tears escape from your waiting eyes.

It was the last day of school. The last day of 3rd grade, the last day you would attend your little country school near our home.

You've been there for three years, since the first grade when you were the new kid on the block. Watching you grow and become the big man on campus has feel amazing, sad, and frustrating all at the same time. The time for me is flying by too darn fast if you ask me. I know I am going to turn around and you will be 18 and we will be taking you to college.

No more public hugs or kisses. That's devestating. You still like to snuggle with your Mom at home -- but you are now a big kid and big kids don't hug their mom's in front of their friends.

Nope nope

You are funny, witty, thoughtful and loving. You are now beginning to care about how you look, what you wear, and how you smell.

No longer are you 2 or 3 or even 4. You are 9 going on 19 and its killing me.

Life Has Been Kicking My Ass...

2010-06-06T13:59:00.000-07:00

I have so much to say -- in fact I need to say a lot to off load it from this brain of mine.

Just no time in my day, everything is on.the.fly

Christ.

Yeah It's Naughty But I Don't Care

2010-05-05T13:04:00.000-07:00

Some days I am just a rebelloious teenager. I really am. I came accross this video and laughed myself silly. I can't stop. This isn't kid friendly or mother approved.

How the trip to Africa I mean Boston Went...

2010-05-01T12:40:00.001-07:00

My husband hasn't travelled for business since mid 2000. Right before our son was born. It's been kind of nice and kind of smothering. I am not the kind of girl who likes someone riding in her back pocket all of the time. And my husband bless his heart is a hands on kind of a guy who has an opinion about everything. Down to the kitchen which I think is entirely a woman's domain.

But I digress.

Neither one of us have been a fan of flying since 9/11. Yeah, yeah, I know get the hell over your fear. If you are afraid the terrorists have won and all of that other happy horseshit. The fact of the matter is if I am on a plane that's going down I am going to crap myself all the way down.

We also have this funky rule about all of us flying together. Again if the plane does down we all go down together and die together.

We've flown two times since 9/11. Once to San Francisco and once to Los Angeles. Both were okay flights once they pushed back and got their asses off the tarmac. My kid enjoyed the hell out of them. And why wouldn't he? The little prince flew first class both times and was treated like royalty. The flight attendants fawned all over him -- what's not to like.

So last week my husband took a trip for business back to Boston. You would have thought he was going to Africa. Pack -repack. Check-recheck. Blah Blah Blah. I offered to take him to the airport so we could pick him up.

Negatory good buddy he wanted to go on his own.

Now my husband doesn't exhibit nervousness. He won't say "Damn I am nervous". He'll just get down right crabby and horrible to live with. And I knew he was nervous being away just because he was being crabby. In lots of ways I almost wish he travelled a lot so we'd get used to it, he'd get used to it, and wouldn't be anxious.

At O'dark O'clock off he went and arrived in Boston 7 hours later, and checked in to a hotel room. I have to say my kid took it the hardest. First time ever he's been away from his Dad. I thought it would be good for him. I didn't think I'd miss my husband as much as I did, although I admit the day after he got home I was ready to send him back to Boston for a day. Jesus.

I will say the noises at night are louder when he's gone. And there's lots of funny things we miss about him when he's gone. And all around we love the crap outta the bug guy.

Not sure how many other trips he's going on, but the key we found is to keep busy, go to bed early, sleep it off and face the new day. One day our kid's going off to college and it will be him I will be missing. So being apart isn't horrible as long as we come back.

You know?

What I Wanted To Say...

2010-04-18T16:14:00.001-07:00

I am taking a history class of the Pacific Northwest - and I am taking it with a bunch of punk ass kids. Now I should clarify this by saying when I say "punk ass kids" I am meaning students between the ages of 18 and 21. We might have a few old farts in there, but really it's mostly kids.

Now kids for the most part are cool -- they bring fresh perspective to the table when thinking about history. They generally ask those questions you and I only think about. However, sometimes they make me crazy because they just don't get it. And instead of saying "I don't get it" They try to act as if they do, go off on tangents, and pontificate when really they should be sticking to what kids that age know best -- drinking and having sex. Right?

At least that's what I was doing at 18.

Anyhow, I digress.

We are reading this very cool book about the Lone Ranger and Tonto who are having a Fistfight in heaven. And when I say it's very cool I mean it's very.cool. Sherman Alexie is the author and he writes about growing up on a Spokane Indian reservation. Because he changes shit around, and used various characters it's a work of fiction of course, but he really is talking about how he grew up.

Did I say this was a work of fiction? (remember that okay?)

So here we are preparing to turn our first draft of our first major essay into our professor, and the instructions are pretty clear -- we have to agree or disagree that Alexie’s stories present Indians and whites as very distinctive, coherent, unified, and mutually hostile..... But the historical record indicates that through at least most of the 1800s this was not true, that both First Nations or Indians on the one hand and whites or Europeans on the other were both internally divided and likely to cooperate across racial boundaries.

Now the graded discussions were about Alexie's book and our chapter readings. The discussion asked if we thought Alexie's book was historically correct, or if we thought it changed history, and what were our thoughts about colonization. Basically did furtraders fuck up the Indians.

As I am reading the discussions my jaw is dropping open because some of these discussions are taking Sherman's work as gospel.

Remember I said "His book was a work of fiction?"

Anyhow I am forming my argument and I wrote one essay and it was just too stuffy for me and what I really wanted to say was this:

DRAFT DRAFT DRAFT

I think it's incredibly important to recognize that Sherman Alexie's book "The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven" is a work of fiction based on real life experiences that Mr. Sherman had growing up on an Indian Reservation in Spokane, Washington. While I found myself nodding and agreeing with a lot of what Mr. Sherman shares in his writings it's still a work of fiction and has to be treated as such, not a historical account of truly what transpires in present day on Spokane's Indian Reservation. - "jwoap", April 18, 2010

Do I agree or disagree that "Alexie's stories present the indigenous people and the white man as very distinctive, coherent, unified, and mutually hostile? We know what we have read in our history books that through most of the 1800's this not to be true -- although I disagree one thousand percent. We see through jaded one sided history books that the First Nations, the indigenous people and the white man or the Europeans were both internally divided and wanting to work with one another and cooperate across racial boundaries. *cough cough bullshit*

To be honest I do not think this is a black and white, an either or question. I think it is a question with several layers that should be examined by first looking at Sherman's point of view.

Sherman's book would be considered"postcolonial literature" which to my understanding are writings that react to examination of colonization between Europe and the indigenous people that were colonized. Sherman throughout his book uses historical figures to show examples of how the US government tried to control Indians by taking and occupying their land and then putting them to live on reservations that were operated and controlled by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The Bureau of Indian Affairs has its own set of issues separate from the displacement of the indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest.

One of my classmates so sagely states in her graded discussion: “Alexie’s stories is that events that occurred 500 years ago still define the challenges and opportunities Native American’s experience in their daily lives. The introduction of alcohol and a monotheistic religion, along with the loss of the ability to provide for themselves, are issues they are still trying to overcome. The idea that they are surrounded by a civilization that overwhelmed and hemmed them in is still a physical, emotional, and mental barrier to all that they do.” (SF, 2010)
Sherman stories that he eloquently writes are emotional pieces based on some of his experiences living on the reservation. And in doing so he shares with the reader a lot of what ****** states in her responses.

Sadly, I think much of what Sherman shares in his book about the interactions with the police is probably true regardless of the skin color of the police. I feel like Sherman blames a lot of his people's issues on the white man. Did what happened 500 years ago have anything to do with the indigenous people of today?

Sure.

However, if we are going to honestly look at the Native American community today we have to face some basic facts -- regarding alcohol and drug abuse the indigenous people have only themselves to blame. Let's face it - drinking and drugging were pretty much all there is was to do on a reservation back then, and the native community when it comes to alcohol is really fucked up.

I feel that Sherman portrays the main characters in his book as victims. (That is an entirely different essay all together). The fact of the matter is alcohol, drug abuse is rampant within the Indian community, and Sherman cannot continue to blame the American Justice System for choices those on the reservation make. That is like stating that African Americans who choose lives of crime should directly blame white people. I mean come on -- I'm "Native American" and I know better.

It's no secret how 99 percent of all "Native Americans" feel about having their land ripped off from them, displaced, and treated poorly by the "white man" when colonization occurred. It was a travesty to say the least. It was wrong and it should not have ever happened. Hells bells if I were alive back then I'd get out my tomahawk and scalp a settler or two.

However, KP in his graded discussion stated he agreed with Fisher's assessment in regards to contact and colonization. He goes on to state that Barman cited some minor incidents between fur traders and the indigenous people, but on a whole they coexisted well with one another. “Friendly relations were thus encouraged with the local inhabitants who might well be encountered again the next year or on the next voyage,” (Barman 25). The bottom line the traders needed the native people for help about survival of a new land and the fur traders gave the native people weapons, tools, and booze. For the most part traders set up trading posts so they could all go about their business and not interrupt the day to day life of the native people. In doing so, the traders saw that it was helpful to all parties that they work with and befriend the native people instead of changing their way of life.

On the other side of the coin white man did bring disease, and missionaries to the native community. Schwantes states, "The consequences of contact severely crippled indigenous peoples of the Northwest and made them susceptible to further harm that took place during colonization. Although many historians concede that fur trade contact was initially mutually beneficial the fundamental changes it brought to native people’s way of life were catastrophic." (Schwantes, 27). And finally, one of our other students in her graded discussion quotes Shwantes in saying "Although violence was limited, disease devastated native populations, not only in terms of lives lost, but in the loss of cultural identity and history as spiritual leaders passed on before imparting their knowledge to younger generations (Schwantes, 40).

Historically it was not always a friendly relationship between the settlers and the native community. Historians show that by the early 1800's the mutual respect both parties had for one another digressed when the missionaries showed up because the missionaries pushed their agenda and attempted to tell the native community how they should live with their concepts of civility.

Basically the Indians didn't want the missionaries telling them their belief systems which were different from European Christians were fucked up. And who could blame them. I mean think about it, you are minding your own business, raising your kids, hoping your husband comes home nightly with some grub and in the meantime complete strangers show up and invite themselves into your teepee and wrinkle their nose at you because you don't have a bible and don't sing Kumbaya around your campfire.

Also can we add that fur traders brought with them disease. Who the hell needs that? Then they took their land and forced a whole new set of ideals on them.

This is why I think both Sherman's writings and the historical recounting of what happened both have merit. Yes, Sherman is correct that the white man took the land of the indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest, and that Indians have had a tough time over the years trying to find their rightful place. However, there comes a time when the blame has to stop and we have to accept responsibility for our thoughts, actions, and life. And while I agree with part of what the history books tells us, they too have it wrong. There's so much about native history they've left out and I can understand why. Some of it's too ugly to write about.

And that is a subject for another time and another paper.

A Day To Myself...

2010-04-17T22:27:00.001-07:00

It's not often I have the day to myself. Not often at all. My diabolical plan began to come together when my husband proclaimed he needed a hair cut. I suggested ever so sweetly that he take the boy with him to get his hair cut as well, and while he was at it why didn't the two of them go to their favorite coffee shop down town, have a cup of coffee and have some "man" time together without "mom".

He bought it.

I was so happy.

They left, I took a shower, and proceeded to do zero.

And I mean zero. I ventured out and watch Meet Joe Black and was just as agitated by the movie score today as I was when I first watched it I think in 1998. The movie score was too loud and Brad Pitt didn't speak up enough. However, this time I "got it" at the end of the movie -- DUH!

Then I played Farmville and Treasure Island, and some other ridiculous game, read some journals and then proceeded to go have a pedicure. I took my IPOD so I didn't have to listen to the chitter chatter of the salon employees and I allowed the massage chair to massage massage massage massage.

It was heavenly.

Then I meandered down to the grocery store and got a few things, and then meandered home, and still had 3 hours to myself until my men came home.

They came home bearing gifts which I thought was very nice. I think it was their way of saying "Sorry Mom you didn't get to come along." And the truth was I was really enjoying my time alone today. It seems like I hear all day long is, "Where is this." "Can you fix this for me" "Will you schedule, Can you meet me, I need you to follow-up on, Do you mind holding for a moment? What's my frequent flier mileage number again? Okay goddammit where did my patches go, I KNOW I LEFT THEM ON MY DRESSER (they were found in the bottom of the washer, he left them in his shirt pocket), Mom where's my soccer shorts? Do we have to have this for dinner tonight? Can we please go out? You spent how much on what?"

And the list goes on.

I also work from home full-time and go to school.

So a day of zero, works for me.

Ahhh yes.

It's Friday Again -- And What Does That Mean?

2010-04-16T16:06:00.001-07:00

Not a fucking thing because yours truly does not get a day off. There is still laundry to be done, meals to be prepared, homework to be helped with, errands to run, questions to be answered, husbands to be delt with, a child to be reared, you know the drill.

We mom's never get a damn break.

Right?

My husband is traveling for work at the end of the month and I for one am stoked. I know that may sound of mean -- but my GOD -- I am going to stay in my pajamas all.day.long. I am going to only brush my teeth and wash my face. I am not going to brush my hair. I shall have breakfast for dinner, and fuck that four food groups.

I think I may actually have Cheerios. And my son -- he's easy, he'll have whatever I have.

I get the entire bed to myself.

MYSELF I SAY!

Can You Hear the Wailing and the Gnashing of the Teeth?

2010-04-05T16:27:00.001-07:00

Dear Son -

I know you think I am the biggest ogre in the world. However, when I ask you to make sure you tie the trash sack tightly before you place it in the big garbage can it's not because I am trying to make your life miserable. No really, it's to save you a lot of potential work down the road.

Like today for instance -- we are in the midst of a really bad Spring wind storm. I think we are receiving gusts up to 50 miles per hour. Because you failed to tie the trash up like I asked you to the trash is now all over the yard because you decided not to listen to me.

So while I am typing from the warmth of my office, I am watching you tromp through the rain and braving the wind to gather up an entire bag of trash that has scattered itself all over the yard when the top of the garbage can was blown away by the wind -- AND the trash in the sack that you DIDN'T tie up was blown open as well.

And please don't think I don't feel badly for you. I truly do. It's all I can do not to grab my rain coat and come out to help you. But I know what will happen -- you will begin to whine and cry and I will get tired of listening to you whine and cry and I will send you into the house.

Into the warm house, where you want to be in the first place.

So I am going to sit tight and watch you clean up the mess you created even if it kills me.

Love, Mom

PS -- I left the old hamburger spatula out by the Marie Calendars pie tin and rotten banana creme pie. You can scoop it up off the patio and put it back in the sack. I hope this time you tie the sack firmly shut. Love, mom

Breakfast Conversations...

2010-04-05T00:14:00.000-07:00

Being part of a large Italian family is sometimes crazy making. And I am so not kidding, that coupled with parents who are getting older is the perfect mix for lots of laughter.

And I mean lots of laughter.

In our family we make our own sausages, salami's and panchetta. My father in law has the knack and skill for this stuff and boy do we love it when Nono cranks out the good stuff.

So this weekend we drove the "rents" (short for parents) to a farm about 2 hours a way to pick up a boat load of meat to make the above.

Before we embarked upon our journey we stopped at a local diner for breakfast and I stupidly entered into this conversation about low carb diets and the Atkins diet.

What you should know beforehand is my father in law loves his wine. He along with my husband are both well studied when it comes to their wine. My father in law is always on some sort of low carb diet and this was no exception.

As he ordered his breakfast of eggs and bacon, no toast, black coffee and no hash browns we were discussing the facts that vegetables have carbs as well, and I was saying that having zero carbs in your diet can't be safe and what in the hell was he going to do if he couldn't drink any wine? Wine as carbs.

" I want you to know" he says, "I have a lot of experience with the North Beach diet" and I paused for a second, and said "huh? North Beach? You mean South Beach Diet right?" Laughter from the table ensued and he said "North Beach, South Beach, I got all the beach diets down" (all in an Italian accent).

"But Nono, I said, Don't you think that no carbs is a little dangerous?" And of course I got the lecture about how wonderful the Atkins diet is blah blah blah.

Fast forward to Easter Sunday -- Was my father in law drinking wine? Yep. Did he have cherry pie? Yep. Did he eat the honey glazed ham? Yep. How about some bread? Yep. Mashed potatoes - I think so yep.

When I asked him what happened to the no carb diet he said as he drank his wine --

"I have been violated so I am drinking wine today."

Of course I rolled my eyes and replied with Buona Pasqua and clinked my glass.

I mean God-- what can you say to that?

The Bummer Of Being A Grown Up and Going To College

2010-03-30T13:18:00.000-07:00

It's all about the responsibility man. When I was a kid and going to college the first time I never felt badly when I blew off a class or missed a test or a paper. I was a kid, 19, footloose and fancy free. Guilt and those feelings associated with guilt never entered my mind.

Well wait, that's not true, maybe guilt entered fleetingly in between having a rusty nail or having sex. But it never lasted long and I was no worse for the wear. Although I have to say I stopped going to college after the first year because it put a cramp into my partying style.

So fast forward (cough*ahem*25+*cough) years later and now I am back in school. I have actually been in school since 1998. One class a bloody term. And can we say "anal retentive"? I can't miss a paper, quiz, or a test. If I know I am going to miss any sort of online discussion question, or any other school related activity it's a note dashed off to my professors giving them probably way too much information about why I can't meet a deadline.

It's ridiculous if you ask me.

Last term I had some legitimate health issues that caused to me petition for an incomplete which I received with no problem. Do you think I can rest without worry about those damn incompletes?

Oh hell no.

Responsibility-itis has kicked in and it's now functioning on over time for cripes sakes.
I would like to stay in my pajamas, watch movies and fold laundry today, but noooooooo I feel compelled to go write a paper or two.

I am tellin ya -- being a grown up sucks sometimes. I wish I weren't so responsible.

"Mom what does Horny Mean?"

2010-03-29T22:25:00.001-07:00

I have a nine year old. A really freaking bright nine year old. So bright that sometimes I forget I have a little boy and think he's just this little mini adult. And he's not so little - he's five feet three.

But really at the end of the day he is nine and with that all the wonderfully funny, nerdy, gut busting laugh a minute things that come with being nine.

He and his dad watch Two and a Half Men. Now I realize perhaps he shouldn't be watching that show as it's considered "racy" and sometimes down right vulgar. However, we as a family love it and watch it every Monday night.

Last night it was on one of the other channels as a re-run and so we caught an episode and laughed ourselves silly of course over the antics of Charlie, Alan and Jake. It was time for my son to go to bed so I sent him off to brush his teeth, wash his face, pee, change into his pajamas and head to bed.

Every night we have a ritual where we decompress and talk about the day together. Him in bed, all snug as a bug in a rug and me stretched out next to him breathing in his little boyness and wishing like hells the years wouldn't speed by like I am standing still.

Here we are in the dark talking about everything and nothing,and in between who ICarly is and why he doesn't like to go to the bathroom at school he blurts out:

"Mom what does horny mean?"

I literally paused and said "Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh" My son chimed in with "Well? what's it mean?"

I felt my face turn red in the dark. How stupid is that to be embarrassed about a word like horny for God's sakes. But I was -- really embarassed. It was so stupid.

So I took a deep breath and said "Well that means when a boy wants to kiss girls all the time really badly and can hardly stand it." My son did the appropriate "EEWWWWWWWW!" and I laughed.

"So when Charlie Harper on Two and a Half Men says he's horny all the time does that mean he wants to kiss girls all the time?" I laughed and said "Yeah something like that." My son then says "He probably wants to have sex all the time."

Again, another moment of silence and then a fight began in my head. "So ask your son what he thinks sex means." Are you insane? I am so not touching that with a ten foot poll, he doesn't need to know what sex is and I am not telling him tonight."

I decide to take the high road and say "Do you know what sex is?"

"Sure, my son says, it's like when Dogs hump but humans hump and while I am not 100% about what goes where I know you get naked"

"Where did you hear that?" I asked rather nervously -- "Oh at school my friends talked about seeing their parents on accident and the dad yelling at the kid to get the blank out of his room and never come in without knocking and the dad said to the mom it would be nice if just one time they could have sex without being interupted."

"Ahhhhh" I said -- "Well, you are on the right track, and you don't need to know what parts go where until you are older."

"How old?"

"Oh at least 40" I said with great confidence hoping like hell this would all go by the wayside.

"40? Were you 40? How old were you?"

There was no way in hell I was telling him I was just 17. No way.

So I lied and said "I don't remember, you know I am almost 100 so it's been many many years."

And then we ended our night talking about Harry Potter, Disneyland, making meatballs and how much he loves eat ice cream.

So really at the end of the day he is still nine. And I like that.

As we get older we lose hair on the top and it appears on the chin....

2010-03-23T13:20:00.001-07:00

I have decided that I am NOT going to age gracefully. Fuck that noise. I know I have written before about body hair. And how I don't like. But I really don't like it today.

Years ago I had a glorious mane of hair. Granted I began to go gray (white really) at the age of ten but that's another story all together. I think it is a genetic thing. My Great Grandmother had snow white hair that was amazing, and I think if I stopped coloring my hair I too would have white hair. But white hair before 50 is wrong unless you are an Albino.

Which I am not.

I digress.

So I go through this whole ritual of moisturizing, tweezing, waxing and what not. I have noticed in the past two or three years there's been a stray WHITE hair that will pop up out of nowhere. At first I thought it was cool -- now I realize it's my signal that I am getting ready to head down the other side of menopause and that plain sucks.

Not that I adore my menstrual cycle but having a menstrual cycle even if it's irregular tells me that I am still somewhat of a young woman.

The white hairs tell me "not so much lady".

Years ago I found a white hair in my nether regions and flipped out. I mean like Daffy Duck -- I called my mother, my sister, my best friend "OH MAH GAWD I HAVE A WHITE PUBIC HAIR CALL THE NATIONAL GUARD!!!!" They were all non-plussed in fact they actually snickered.

In fact, when I went to the laser lady to have some hair zapped she giggled and said "Oh honey we can't zap the white ones we can only zap the dark ones." This leaves me no alternative than to diligently inspect my face daily for rogue white hairs, as I will not ever ever be like our neighbor Great Grandma Hengrove who had long white hairs that grew out of her face. They were so long she'd shuffle down to our house and ask my mother to trim them with her nails scissors.

I shall NOT become like that.

I shall wax until my face falls off.

AGING GRACEFULLY IS FOR SISSY'S.

I SHALL FIGHT IT UNTIL MY DYING DAY. My gloves are now on.

That is all.

Not much really shocks me anymore...

2010-03-21T13:40:00.000-07:00

What a sad state of affairs that not much shocks me anymore. I was standing out in the yard the other day catching up with my neighbor, comparing weeds, aches and pains and recipes.

We got on to the subject of Fridays 20/20 and as I listened to my neighbor share her thoughts about this icky situation (cyber affair which ended in murder) I was nonplussed. While my neighbor was horrified I just shook my head and clearly wasn't surprised.

"What is wrong with these people?" My neighbor asked. "How can you make friends on line with someone you don't know?" "Easy" I said. "I have a handful of friends who aren't 3-D. In fact, I know lots of people who have developed close relationships online. It's replaced the days of real letter writing and being a pen pal."

And so we went on to talk about how this could happen. Was it the inter net's fault? Or was this guy going to cheat anyhow? And then we talked about addiction and how the Internet, Internet sex, Internet porn, proves to be incredibly addictive to many. This of course digressed into pedophiles and how they come to be. And do we just hear more about their activity because of the media or are there really more.

I guess the look on my face wasn't concerned enough because my neighbor asked me if any of this bothered me. And of course it does -- but sadly I think I have become jaded, or hardened to this stuff. I work really hard to make sure my child is out of harms way. He doesn't access the Internet unless we are sittingrightnexttohimthisclose -- and he hates it. But oh well. Friends come to our house, he doesn't go to anyone's house we don't know, and even those we do know, I am in suspended judgment. There have been way too many news reports I have read and heard about kids being abused at their neighbors house for me just to let my kid go off willy nilly.

So I do care. I just don't freak out anymore when I read about it or see it on TV. I just hug my kid that much tighter and think about the ways I need to go about keeping him safe.

Is It Me....

2010-03-16T23:43:00.001-07:00

Or are the kids of today really different than they were let's say 30 years ago when I was a teenager?

I have encountered more rude, snippy, and disrespectful kids over the past month than I ever have before.

All I know is if I had ever even remotely thought of speaking to another human being let alone another adult the way some of these kids I have encountered man I'd be picking myself up off the floor.

This makes me wonder what the hell is the matter with the parents of these kids who are behaving this way.

And this isn't just kids being kids. I get that. This is being hateful, rude, with a whole lot of "I am entitled" thrown in for good measure.

Is it television of today? Is it the Internet? Or has our society desinegrated to a point where the majority of the population has zero substance?

Man this is just such a bummer.

I don't want to utter the "P" word.

2010-02-15T20:37:00.000-08:00

It's on the tip of my tongue and I just don't want to say it. But I am. My anxiety and "panic" are back.

I am so pissed about this.

They are wrecking havoc with my life. And I hate it.

Between the feeling of overwhelming doom as if I am going to die,and the feeling like I can't breathe, and the world closing in on me -- it's just horrible.

I even went to the ER thinking I was having a heart attack only to be told no your cardiac enzymes are fine, you are a little low on potassium, but it sounds as though you have some serious anxiety going on.

So here I am. And that bitch is now on my back again.

She needs to go away for good. The last time she really gave me a hassle was back in 2000 when my son was born.

Any suggestions?

I Don't Get It

2010-02-14T20:38:00.000-08:00

In the good ole days when we used to write over at Diaryland, you didn't have advertisements on your blog. And your blog wasn't a blog it was a diary. You know the kind you locked up and stuffed under your mattress. Then Livejournal came out and it became journaling. Last but not least blogger - blogspot now have you blogging. Everyone has a damn blog.

Okay whatever.

The other part I find funny and amusing is that there are those who are making a lot of money off their blogging. The Pioneer Woman makes a ridiculous amount of money on her site. I don't know how many thousands come to her site a day, but it's enough that major (and I mean major) sponsors pay to advertise on her web site.

And then there's Dooce who I hear is making a good living at this blog thing too.

Perhaps I am jealous.

I'd like to make a bazzilion dollars blogging!

Stupersistions

2010-02-14T13:48:00.000-08:00

"Stupersistions"

I spelled superstitions incorrectly on purpose. You see our family (save for my partner) has this weird feeling about the month of February. Bad things happen to our family in February. I am not sure why. I wonder if it's just me being stupid and traumatized by some things that have happened in February and so I think February is a bad month all the way around.

My first recollection of something bad happening was the death of my Grandmother way back in 1970. My father and his mother were terribly close -- and her death impacted him in such a way that it's hard to explain. He changed.

Then we had an other Grandma die in February. However, more importantly pretty much anything icky health wise that's happened to my father has happened in February. It's a laundry list for God's sakes.

So why I am talking about February? I got to take an ambulance ride of all things. I thought I was having a heart attack -- turned out not to be a heart attack -- thank God. Low potassium and a new dx of diabetes. However, it's not something I want to repeat. I think when I was dx'd with blood clots they were in February, many years ago. Oh and I was served divorce papers on Valentines Day 15 years ago.

What I want to know is the breath holding and feeling of impending doom when February rolls around just superstistion or is there something to it?

All I know is when March 1st comes and goes I let out an audible sigh of relief.

Getting Older Ain't For Sissies

2010-02-14T13:01:00.000-08:00

Just sayin.

The Ever Growing Pile Of Laundry....

2010-02-06T19:38:00.000-08:00

For as long as I can remember (years and years) laundry has been a festering sore -- almost like a boil that refuses to come to a head. It's right under the surface, it hurts when you touch it, you wish it would just erupt already.

But, it never does.

That's how I feel about laundry.

It's always there, reminding me of my failure as a mother, wife, person in general. I actually panic when my mother comes to visit because I know she's going to ask me if I need help with the laundry.

In days gone past I would say no -- and lie about it. Now I have succumbed to my pride and say "Sure, knock yourself out."

The reality is I have great intentions. However, life gets in the way and something has to give and that's sadly the laundry. Now don't get me wrong -- it's not so bad that instead of washing I am buying new clothes like my former mother in law used to do (for real!)I keep up with the stuff that needs to be done, the underwear, and basic clothes, thankfully I have a shitload of sheets and I usually use them all up and then once a quarter wash them and fold them at the laundromat.

Pretty stupid huh?

My biggest fall down is socks. I hate socks. They all go in one big basket where we paw through them find a match and everyone's sweaty and snarly when they finally find a matching pair.

The other downfall - all my dish towels and wash cloths. Once again in a big basket. And while we are talking about baskets all the clean clothes end up in about 11 baskets that are scattered throughout the house, moved from room to room so it looks like I have made progress.

The sad truth is my guestbathroom off the laundry room isn't useable beacause it's full of baskets of clothes in various stages.

So what I need to do is get all my dirty clothes load them in to the truck, drive down to the laundromat, spend the day washing, drying, and folding and them truck them back home and spend 2 hours putting them all away.

My biggest excuse was always "I don't have enough room. That's not true now. Now I have an amazing organizer that's 6 boxes high (7 feet high) and 6 boxes across (7 feet across), so I have 36 boxes to organize underware, socks, jeans, t-shirts and what not. No excuse at all.

none.what.so.ever

Why don't I do it?

Because I hate it. I hate laundry. I wish I could wear something and throw it away and wear new things. But that's not reality.

Really I could run the laundry all day. I don't mind sorting. I don't mind washing, I don't mind drying. I mind folding, and I loathe putting it all away.

Just loathe it.

So here I am looking at my laundry sitting in baskets in the front room wanting to be folded.

And here I sit on my ass writing to you all in a journal rather than doing my domestic duties.

I suck!

When it's dark...

2010-02-05T22:56:00.000-08:00

I am in bed. It's dark. Every one's asleep but me. The rhythmic breathing of the one next to me is really only the sounds I am hearing save for perhaps a lone car or two out on the highway 2 miles away.

I used to beg for nights like this. My head so full of thoughts, sounds, ideas, noise. Just pointless noise. And when I would finally settle myself a ships foghorn or the rain would lumber through, or the coyotes would make their presence known.

But not tonight. It's dark and quiet. And I gotta say I'm not really liking it.

Not so much.

I'm trying to figure out what it is about this deafening silence I'm not comfortable with. Maybe it's my own thought process that's bugging me. Perhaps it's my secret fear of dying. Or my husband dying. Or maybe I am straining unconsciensly to hear if my son is up. Or waiting for that in the middle of the night calls that we all dread if we have older parents.

Or maybe it's the gas rolling around in my gut protesting about the shitload of onions I had for dinner.

Who knows. I just know I am awake on the dark all by myself and I don't like it.

What I'd be Happy With

2010-01-31T16:27:00.000-08:00

I was thinking about happiness and what I'd be happy with. Oh and I was thinking why sometimes it's hard for me to get along with others. (I think really I should have a sweatshirt made that says "Doesn't play well with others")

I caught Oprah the other day and Rosie was on. She was talking about pain and hurt and rage. And the word rage really caught my attention. And how instead of being courageous and telling someone "Hey you hurt me" she became engraged and crazy because it was easier than doing the brave thing (crying) and saying "You hurt my feelings and you hurt me".

Because that's me. It's far easier and my initial knee jerk reaction to deflect my feelings, tell others what they should be doing, always have an answer for everything, and be angry instead of being brave and saying "You know what? I don't know, or that hurts, please don't hurt me."

So I am going to really try and say "I don't know" and "You hurt me" when I don't know and I am hurt rather than covering it all up.

Baggage stinks.

Cancer

2010-01-30T16:02:00.000-08:00

My friend has Cancer and I don't like it.

Not one bit.

I am not sure what to do for her other than keep her in good thoughts and said big powerful anti-Cancer prayers to the Universe.

Sometimes...

2010-01-30T00:44:00.000-08:00

When I am reading journals I imagine what you all sound like if you were reading your journals.

News flash --

Some of you sound pretty fucking stupid.

Pairing Up Iphone With Jawbone (What they don't tell you)

2010-01-28T09:28:00.000-08:00

To pair up your jawbone with your Iphone after a reset of your Iphone you go through the same instructions as you would when you pair up the first time.

However! - When you see your Iphone say "Jawbone or Device" not recognized, tap the screen and then it will ask you if you want to add it.

DOH!

Then say yes, and viola you are ready to rock and roll.

The instructions with the Jawbone only show you what to do on the initial pairing.

Oh and if it requires a code it's just 0000

Daily Double: Food Poisoning for One Thousand Alex...

2010-01-21T00:02:00.001-08:00

I should have realized when I got out of bed this morning and felt just as full as when I went to bed something was wrong. Two steps out of bed and my fate was sealed. Instantly sweaty, sick to my stomach and then of course the vomiting began. And nothing's worse than puking up yesterday's meal. Unless you are like me and felt your colon explode at the same time. Thank god the tub is right next to the toilet.

I have lost five pounds in 24 hours. Need I say more?

Today was spent in bed for the most of it. Food poisoning wiped me out. The restaurant in which I received the tainted food was kind, they offered to refund my entire meal and send me gift certificates. I am really thinking hard about the gift certificates. Part of me wants to accept them and then when I go in write in big fat red letters -

"THIS GIFT CERTIFICATE WAS GIVEN TO CUSTOMER DUE TO FOOD POISONING PLEASE DO NOT FUCK UP THIS CUSTOMERS ORDER -- THANK YOU."

The other part of me doesn't ever want to eat any food from that establishment again.

However -- I did lose five pounds. :)

My sleep is one again disturbed and I am back to sleeping wacky hours. This happened the week I re-entered school. This happens every single time. It's crazy making. There is no reason in the world I can't do the following during the day:

Exercise
Chores
Errands
Home Work
Run my Company
Prepare Dinner
Spend time with child
Get to bed on time (before 10 pm)

I know what the problem is.

Facebook.

Farmville, Farmtown, and all those other ridiculous games that I know better than to suck myself into. I have really limited myself journal wise. I don't read five thousand journals each day and RESPOND to them all. I only read a handful and don't comment really on any of them.

Self discipline has never been my strong suit. It's why I smoked for so many years, it's why I am fat and not thin and fit.

I need to pull my head out of my collective ass and get back on a schedule.

No really - I mean it this time.

Can It Be?

2010-01-13T08:41:00.000-08:00

It's the 14th of January -- the first half of January is almost over. My God. The days are rolling into one another and I can barely keep up. All my good intentions have not only flown out the window, I am sure they have hopped the plane to the warm beaches of Hawaii that I should be on.

I had intended to in no particular order: clean out my closets, and the upstairs exercise room, organize my office, throw out all my old miss matched cups that are driving me crazy in the kitchen, finish washing, folding and putting away ALL of my laundry. Even the crap I have stashed in the back bathroom I never use. I wanted to keep up to date with my homework, blog regularly at the three blogs I keep, keep my email answered and up to date. Have my New Years Cards out on time, exercise, plan ahead for meals, plan ahead for family trips, continue writing for my book, and keep a food blog.

Did I do any of them?

Well yeah sort of. Kinda.

I am making a stab at the laundry, the cups are still sitting where they were before the break, this is the first blog of the year, my email is so behind it's not funny, I haven't planned any meals out except each day at 4:30 I think about what to make -- and if it's not right at my finger tips I am tempted to order in.

And my book - it's still sitting here. I haven't done any more on it. My exercise is sadly lacking and spotty. And my food diary. Bwhahahahahahahahahah.

The closests and the exercise rooms are still a big fat mess.

Okay I am going to try really really hard to update this "thing" - now it's a thing.

Adam Lambert AMA Video: Daring, Edgy, totally CONTROVERSIAL

2009-11-25T11:47:00.001-08:00

I wasn't sure what all the hype was about. I was rooting for Adam Lambert during American Idol in 2009, and loved everyone of his numbers, even the weird ones.

However, when Adam did this number at the AMA I sat up and said HELLO! And knew he'd take a lot of crap for it.

If you don't like seeing two men kiss, don't watch it.

We've seen women kiss -- remember Britney and Madonna. In fact, for centuries guys love to watch girl on girl action -- but when it comes to men showing affection well damn it better be done behind closed doors because our society just isn't ready for it. (waxing great amounts of sarcasm).

Regardless, Adam is an amazing artist and creative and controversial.

I will be loving him for many years to come.

The Swine Flu Came In and Just About Kicked Our Asses...

2009-11-15T22:28:00.000-08:00

I can't remember a time when my families been this sick, and they tell me we didn't get hit as hard as we could have.

I never ever want to be that ill again.

I wouldn't wish this on my ex-husband.

It was that bad.

Does the Internet Perpetuate Drama?

2009-10-14T07:54:00.000-07:00

Do people use the internet to be dramatic because they wouldn't in person? Or have people always been really dramatic and I haven't been paying attention?

And so the communication stops.

2009-10-12T19:08:00.000-07:00

And I don't know why. I am not sure what I have done to warrant this. My guess is that this time it's truly not me -- it's him.

When we we began to write together so long ago it was fun, almost edgy, but it was innocent and platonic. At least it was on my side. I admired his craft, and the way he created with words.

But as they say, people come and people go in your life -- it's just nice once in a while to have closure.

You know?

Okay so fifty isn't so far away.

2009-09-24T14:02:00.000-07:00

There are worse things I guess. Death. Illness. Famine. Getting older isn't the end of the world.

Right?

My therapist graduated me yesterday. I am all done. "You don't need me anymore." He said. "You have the tools, you know what to do."

And with that and a bear hug he sent me on my way.

I was left with "Aww shit now what do I do coach?"

He's right, I really don't need him. Maybe I never really did need him. But right about now I feel like I did when I began to learn to ride a bike. Wobbly at best. What's going to happen the next time I have a fight with my partner? What's going to happen the next time my father drives me crazy?

All I know is that I am done with therapy and it's time to journey on in regards to this path of self discovery.

I Just Know I Am Going To Get My Ass Kicked For This...

2009-09-22T12:01:00.003-07:00

But I am sorry. Home schooled kids are just plain weird.

That is all.

Because I am Fat -- They Think I am Dumb.

2009-09-21T18:07:00.000-07:00

My neice is is a first year theater major dating a lovely young black artist. She's very fair skinned and he's very dark skinned. When they are out together they stand out -- and people notice.

We were together this weekend due to a funeral. And as we sat and talked and I learned more and more about her we talked about her young man, his skin color, and if she experienced racism. She admitted she did but she said something so profound. She shared with me that when she was with him she didn't see color, she saw him. And that made me sigh and smile.

It also made my eyes wet with joy.

As I drove home from this funeral I thought about myself and my own encounters. I am am overweight woman who needs to lose 100+ pounds. My doctor would like me to be about 119-125 pounds. I weigh well over 200 pounds. And while I clean up well, and can still wear designer clothes like the rest of them (albiet large sized), I find I am treated much differntly than those of my sister who are height and weight appropriate. And this is not only hurtful to me, it's maddening, and it pisses me off.

I recognize we live in a society that you are treated in regards to how you look, dress, appear, and what size you are. It shouldn't be that way but really it is.

During the drive home I began to really remember the various encounters I have had over the years, especially this year and it upset me to think about the lack of respect I have received due to my weight.

I know I have lost jobs, meetings, and deals because of my girth.

As it is I am not a lover of people. I used to love everyone but over the years I have been come jaded and cynical. And I wonder when the day comes that I am height and weight appropriate if I am going to turn into one of the skinny heartless bitches that looks her nose down at everyone.

Attention Men -- If you ever want to get laid again...

2009-09-14T11:04:00.001-07:00

Don't forget your wedding anniversary.

And if you do forget, don't get defensive about it. Just admit you screwed up and make it good.

That is all.

Why It Is Not Going To Define Who I Am

2009-08-29T13:56:00.001-07:00

I knew this post was coming -- I just didn't know how or when -- so this is the how and the when:

It's not secret I am pushing fifty.

FIFTY.

The Big FIVE OH.

50.

It's also not a secret that for the better part of my life I have been dealing with, wrangling with, stuffing, side-stepping, begging, pleading, plotting, and working through my infertility.

I used to pontificate and say "Oh yes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and I WILL WEAR MY BADGE OF INFERTILITY SO OTHER WOMEN KNOW THAT THEY TOO CAN MAKE IT THROUGH THE UNFORGIVING JUNGLES OF PREMATURE OVARIAN FAILURE, DIMINISHED OVARIAN RESERVE, AND UNEXPLAINED I.N.F.E.R.T.I.L.I.T.Y!!!!"

Well...that's a bunch of happy horseshit.

For me - I was one of the lucky ones. Because let's face regardless of how talented your physician or your clinic is ART is still an art -- it's science all right, but there's the luck, or art part of it that mystical, magical and unexplainable.

All I wanted my entire life was a family. Four children -- two boys and two girls. That's what I envisioned, planned, and decided upon for myself. But that's not what happened. Miscarriage after miscarriage I felt that dream and reality slipping away, month by month. It took a toll on my marriage. And while it wasn't the sole reason it failed it was certainly a huge factor. So much pain that we couldn't talk about that we eventually went our separate ways, soothed our pain through the modern
methods of chemistry (alcohol and prescription drugs), and had a complete disconnect of who we were and what we were.

I ended up leaving. Something I still feel horrible about and that I truly wish I had closure about, but something I probably never will have closure. I have accepted my responsibility in the breakdown of my marriage, and I own my part. But it's still tough to know that you left another person because you didn't think they were "good enough" and that you didn't hold their interests or that they possessed any sort of value.

The bottom line -- I wanted kids. He already had three. I tried to be a step-mom and failed miserably at that. I actually sucked at that. And there are a million excuses about why I sucked and failed. But the bottom line I was a rotten rotten step mother who loved her step children fiercely but still really sucked at that job.

As I skittered away to lick my wounds and get my collective shit together, and perhaps conetmplate my navel or the meaning of life I met another man who has turned out to become my partner, my husband and my friend. And I naievly thought that when he said "Oh boy let's have kids I have none" that for once it would be an easy road.

HA. HA. HA.

That was an understatement. For those of you didn't hear me the first time --

HA. HA. HA.

The trail of doctor appointments began again. The magazines in the waiting rooms were all the same. The faces in those waiting rooms began to look the same, even the medical personnel began to look and sound the same. And once again I began to hear the same message over and over again:

Lose weight, change your diet, exercise more, stop drinking coffee, and above all RELAX.

For all of you folks who have good intentions and are meaninful in your helpful advice to those of us who are infertile -- please take a small queue from me:

SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. about relaxing. IT DOESN'T HELP, and it only makes us that more crabby.

Thank you -- moving right along.

So as I said above I was one of the lucky ones my treatment worked for my husband and myself and we are now the parents of one amazing little boy. My dreams of having a large family are not reality based. One is all I get, and need to be happy with, and most days I am. More often than not I am really glad that I only have one.

I am still infertile even after having my son, but I am not going to allow infertility to define who I am. It doesn't and will not control me, I still call the shots in my life. I am not going to allow infertility to transform me into this harden bitter shell of a woman.

So what does this have to do with pushing fifty? A lot actually. I had this conversation the other day with a woman who has four children and is beginning the path of perimenopause. As we were talking she made the remark that after a certain age the whole infertility thing shouldn't come into play because after all when we all hit 55 we are all well into menopause and none of us will be having children we will all be entering those wonderful post menopause years.

As I sat across the table from her toying with my coffee cup I couldn't help wonder if she would be saying those same things had she not been able to have children.

And as I opened my mouth to protest what she said I closed is just as quickly and thought -- "Whatever" and actually asked her about her something else totally unrelated because I know that sometimes it just doesn't pay to attempt to educate someone who is extremely ingorant about other people's feelings.

One Doesn't Eat and One Doesn't Sleep...

2009-08-29T11:42:00.000-07:00

Our family has delightful kids -- weird but delightful kids. I can say that because I am 'related ' :)

We had two extras spend the night last night -- their folks went out on a date, and were going to enjoy the peace and quiet of a childless night.

Or -- so.they.thought.

The humming of laughing children filtered through the air, the Wii in full swing, and the shrieks of laughter with the various "Oh Snap he died" "AWESOME" "Dang Dude better luck next time" "Sucks to be you Dude" wafted through the family room and down the hall to my office.

Dinner time was close and I was trying to decide what to prepare. Typically Friday nights around our Casa is really informal and laid back. It's the end of a long week, I don't want to think too much about what I am making -- I have good eaters in my home who aren't too terribly picky as long as it's flavorful, fresh, and healthy.

However, my two over night guests only eat processed food, and that therein lies the problem. And one of them only eats a handful of things.

Pizza as long as it's pepperoni, hamburgers as long as they are plain but ketchup is okay. No cheese unless it's on the pizza. Chicken nuggets, french fries, waffles with syrup, Captain Crunch, Cinnamon Crunch Cereal, peanut butter and jelly (grape only) as long as its Wonder White Bread,Danables yogurt, potato chips, cheezits, Sprite, and skittles.

That's it.

The other child eats pretty well, but doesn't sleep. Always, always has to go home between 1 and 3 AM.

Last night was no exception.

For dinner I made Pepperoni pizza, steak, and salad. Child #1 ate pizza but nothing else. Not even milk or juice. I didn't have any Sprite. Child #2 Ate really well, and of course my kid eats whatever I put in front of him.

I let everyone stay up until Midnight and then Child #2 said "I really need to go home, I need my bed, I need my house." I said, "Honey Mom and Dad are not within cell reach and won't be home until tomorrow morning."

If looks could kill you all would be at my funeral.

His mom and I made a plan and I'd text her through the night. So the texts began at Midnight and by 2:00 AM he was texting her and extremely anxious. So by 4:00 AM guess who showed to get her child and guess who stayed up with him while he was anxious?

Both his parents showed up looking really pissed, and me. I stayed up with him.

And today, I am a crabby Panda.

Stumbling through the kitchen making breakfast that consisted of eggs, bacon, toast and juice. Child #2 proclaimed rather loudly "I don't like any of that and I am not eating."

So - instead of freaking out, I said, "Okay". And he went hungry while the rest of us ate, and I offered him nothing else.

I am taking him home now, and then I think I am going to take a much needed nap and thank my lucky stars my child is not high maintenance.