The Crush....

For those of you with grown children do you remember what it was like when they had their first crush?  Of course I've been involved with many crushes when it comes to boys liking girls as my husband and I have four of them.  However, our youngest, my baby, is our only girl and now that she is in high school has discovered the opposite sex.  No longer are they nasty and stinky.  Nope - now suddenly she says to me:  It's weird but I really like hanging out with guys better than girls.  I don't know why but I just have a lot more friends that are guys than are girls.  Suddenly I have alarms going off in my head.  They sound like police sirens strangely mixed with the doink doink sound of Law & Order.  Instinctively I say to myself:  "just keep a closer eye on her - it's fine." 
Then comes the call - from her bedroom.  "MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM" yells Kennedy.  "CAN YOU COME TO MY ROOM?"  For those of you with younger children please note right this minute that an invitation into the bedroom by your teenager is something that you must never turn down.  It's the moment in time where for some reason their disgust for you has become tolerant enough that they believe they want to actually have conversation with you.  I run.  I do not hesitate.  I need not think of why.  I don't care.  I have been invited.  I run up the stairs as fast as I can and into the bedroom across the balcony - of course it's the farthest one from me :)  She's sitting on her bed and I ask calmly (like it's no big deal) "What's up cutie?"  she says kind of shyly, "Well, I guess I should tell you.  You know that thing you said I should always let you know about?"  I'm searching my mind like an un-folded load of laundry that has swallowed your one matching black sock.  Outwardly I stay calm.  "Oh yeah?  What's that?"  Kennedy is smiling sheepishly and I'm seriously beginning to wonder if she's reached a new stage of dork when she lets it drop.  "I'm GOING with a guy" 
Readers - at this point you need to know that my parenting style is one of always always ALWAYS keeping an open line of communication.  It's pretty simple.  If you talk to your children they will talk to you.  If you treat them with respect they will in return respect you.  If you show them your love often, they will eventually treat you with love in return......after the "my parents are retarded" stage is finally over.  That being said - when I hear these words I draw a blank.  I'm seeing snow in my head - I have no words to say - I got nothing.  Tick tock goes the clock.  Kennedy is staring at me and I am wondering why I'm staring at her in return because I am 100% completely blank.  She brings me back.  "Did you hear me?"  I smile and shake my head.  I find my voice.  "Really? Who is it?"
I sit down on her bed and she lets me.  Wow.  This is serious.  From this point on she tells me about the boy.  How dreamy he is - how nice he is and the information comes to me in fragments as I'm only able to wonder what "DAD's" reaction is going to be.  This is another story, Reader, but it will be interesting.  As for now I am only reveling in this moment and in the fact that my daughter has chosen to deem me worthy of conversation.  We chat.  She smiles.  I smile.  I'm very open and frank about reminding her that even though she is in high school, the fact still remains that she is 14.  The age 14 still means: no dating, no "I love you" notes, no hanging on eachother.  None of it.  Of course she says she knows and wouldn't do that anyway.  My inner "me" is laughing her ass off because I know she will at some point.  Hopefully not yet.  Hopefully not for quite a while.  But I know this is where one of the hard parts of parenting comes in.  The part where you have to care - A LOT - because now you're going to be at ALL functions and hanging out with a large group of teenagers until after graduation because that's what it takes to be involved and aware of what's actually going on. 
Football game comes and I meet him.  He's in the marching Band with Kennedy.  I say "Hello" and quickly inform him of the ground rules for hanging around my daughter (I cannot bring myself to say boyfriend/girlfriend yet).  He says yes, ma'am to me multiple times.  He is cute as she says.  Polite as she says.  Manners, talent and a brain.  Okay - I get it.  However, that night at home I remind her that it's more important than ever to stay grounded and realize that all of the teenagers running around saying I LOVE YOU to every boy they date, hanging on eachother, and getting serious when they haven't even figured out what their life is about yet is a very dangerous thing to do and that I would not tolerate this behavior.  She agrees.  WHAT?????  Yes.  She agreed with me and reminded me that I had raised a very level-headed daughter. 
TIME WILL TELL.  I am watching like a hawk.  My house will not be clean for another four years because now it is yet again the "hangout" place for teenagers.  I'm okay with that.  It's the price of being a parent - a good one anyway. 

TO BE CONTINUED........

THE BLACK DRESS

Shopping for what is, in essence, a costume with a teenager is probably listed as one of the top ten reasons you get a migraine.  My adorable, beautiful, stunning, angelic princess Kennedy (stop laughing) is in the choir.  She is a stickler for following “choir” rules which leads me to think that I should name our house “CHOIR” in order to get her to follow my rules at home.  Anyway, to sing in the women’s choir at school you must be adorned in a long sleeve floor length black gown or shirt/skirt combination.  SERIOUSLY?  Where in the world do you find a fashion piece such as that, which is also appropriate for someone under 90 years old?????  I panicked the minute I found out her needs and proceeded to put the shopping trip for this “costume” off until the last minute.  I mean – come on – do you think I seriously WANT to visit hell?  No.  Finally, we’re just 2 days before her first choir concert and she is in serious panic mode about her dress.  Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to put it off so long after all because now I get to shop for this horrid outfit with a teenager who is in the middle of a panic attack while have that monthly visit from Aunt Flo.  Open Hell – Welcome Renae.  We go to the Mall and begin our search.  First Macy’s.  There is a relatively decent gown in their formal department that I secretly believe was made for an 80 year old woman’s last New Year’s Bash but I hold my tongue and look for Kennedy’s response.  I don’t get one.  This is because while I’ve taken the time to actually look at the dress she came, she saw, she immediately walked away.  I dare to say: Kennedy – did you see this one?  She flips her head around – I get the “glare of death” and she continues to walk away.  Simply put – I’m a dumb ass for even asking.  Reader, if you’re unfamiliar with the dumb ass reference, please refer to a previous blog where I explain this in more detail.  Back to the story.  I let go of the dress and follow my daughter who appears to be promptly leaving Macy’s.  They have nothing that would approach tolerance level with her.  We move on.  Next is Forever 21 because apparently she shops their web site and saw a dress.  However, we quickly find out they do not keep that particular gown in the stores as it doesn’t really sell that well.  Go figure.  We leave and I try to cheer up my beloved monster.  “No worries!” I say.  “We’ll find something.”  Kennedy immediately responds, “Mom – please – just – don’t”  She says all of this in broken sentence form without so much as a glance in my direction.  So much for cheering up.  I walk ahead a little bit and begin to guide us to JC Penny’s.  As we get closer I believe my brilliant daughter begins to realize this and says:  “Uh – Mom – stop – where ARE you going?”  I smile and cheerfully say:  JC Penny’s of course!  They always have lots of formal wear.  She stops.  So suddenly the person behind her almost collides with her almost causing an avalanche of mall rats.  She is staring at me like I have horns.  “What?” I innocently say?  Kennedy scowls and informs me viciously, although very quietly, “you are not making me go in that store.”  Another smile from me as I happily reply: “Oh, but yes I am doll – because this is probably the only place that’s going to have what we need.”  I don’t wait for a reply this time.  I might be a dumbass to a 14 year old but certainly not when it comes to mothering.  I head on to the store not daring to glance back and see if she is following.  That would give her reason to believe she has control.  Not anymore.  This bitchy momma has taken the reins and I’m getting this done whether she’s on board or not!!!  Off to JC Penny’s I go heading straight for the formal section.  I arrive and begin looking.  I don’t even look for Kennedy – although I believe she is there because I hear a sniff and some long nasty sighs (yes sighs can be nasty) behind me.  I see something.  It’s a floor-length gown, not too bad, but we’ll have to buy a long-sleeve shoulder jacket to go with it – who cares.  I grab the dress and the first one is Kennedy’s size.  It’s a sign.  I turn around – and yes, she’s there.  She looks at the dress and about knocks me over with her reply:  It’s not so bad.  I go with it.  “Take this and go try it on.  I’ll find some long-sleeve jackets to go with it and see if we can get out of this place!  I grab 5 different jackets and run to the dressing room.  The dress fits perfectly, except for the fact that it shows cleavage which is not allowed.  NO PROBLEM!!!!  I will sew a peace of material in that tear drop and we’re good.  She goes through the jackets and we agree on an acceptable one.  WHEW!!!!  We’re done and it only took an hour – I AM NOT KIDDING!!  We buy our purchase and Kennedy actually spies a coat she likes – SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!!!!!!!!  I get the dress without a nightmarish fight, and actually get to avoid the winter coat war too?  We’re on!!!!!!!!!!  “Throw the coat on the pile!”  I say.  WHAT’S THAT I SEE???  Kennedy is smiling!!!!  OMG – I’m not in Hell – I’m in Heaven.  THANK YOU GOD!!!!

The Pretties....

Dear Reader - I'm so sorry for my absence from the blog.  Literally, I think exhaustion overtook me for a few days.  In addition - there really hasn't been anything going on but the same of everything.  Work, kids, sleep, repeat.  HOWEVER, this past weekend my hubby and I decided to treat ourselves to a weekend away from it all.  Friday we packed up the car after work and headed to the Belterra Casino Resort and Spa for two nights.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!  It was awesome.  We had incredible dinners at Jeff Ruby's, great wine and gambling where for ONCE in my life we came out several hundred dollars ahead - Woohooo!!!!!  However, I have to interject at this point that I have another name for BCRS. I call it "House of the Pretties."  Yes - you will see the occasional couple of wealth - the 80 year old sugar daddies with their 25 year old arm candy.  The women who wear fur when it's 85 degrees outside because they can.  But seriously, if you sit at the corner of the main entrance at one of the starbucks tables and pretend to sip your coffee you will get an amazing show of the "pretties".  These are people who range in age from 25 to 95.  Some have no teeth, some have no hair.  Some are so tiny they look like skeletons with a layer of skin and others are so large that they can apparently no longer find shirts that will cover their bellies.  Some have obvious talent with makeup and others - well - there are others who believe their talent with makeup is so worthwhile that all should be able to see them coming from half mile away.  Then there's the hair.  This weekend proved to be very giving of stylish do's.  For instance, it was not unusual at all when the grandmother who was celebrating her 86th birthday at BCRS showed up in style sporting hair that was of three colors, the most vibrant being fuschia and going great with the other stripes of natural gray and black onyx.  A little gel to spike it up and gma was one heck of a hotty at the House of the Pretties.  There were long braids to the knees with stunning butterfly pins poking out here and there.  And while I didn't take the time to ask if the butterfly pins ever stuck her when she sat - I was truly amazed at how well they stood out.    There was a particularly interesting man who decided the hair on his head was better off staying gray but surely his beard needed to be jet black.  And his lovely long blue dress socks really showed off his shapely legs when matched with the red plaid shorts and brown plaid jacket.  Where oh where was his lucky woman??  But alas sitting at Starbucks is not the only place you can see the performance of The Pretties.  Nope - you can pretty much see them anywhere.  We grabbed breakfast at the buffet one morning and while sitting eating a mediocre morning meal the gracious hostess seated a family at the table next to us.  I immediately felt complete sympathy and concern for the mother.  God love her.  I'm not sure WHY stupid WalMart does not understand the needs of the "well-endowed" woman but it was obvious to both my husband and I immediately that she could not shop at WalMart and find a shirt large enough to cover her 16th and 17th roll for they were peeking out underneath her shirt moving and jiggling and assaulting us from 5 feet away.  Clearly WalMart saw the need to provide ample coverage in shirt sizes for her husband and son who were both larger than she.  What was good old Sam thinking when he decided to be so transparent by obviously catering to our largest men but not our largest women? Each time she picked up another kiebalsa sausage with her fingers and finished it off in one bite while being able to chew and lick her fingers at the same time, my heart went out to her.  Obviously this is a wounded soul.  I left breakfast early.  Sometimes The Pretties becomes a very emotional show and a viewing break may become necessary in order to avoid nausea and gagging.  There was definitely a time of learning this visit to BCRS.  I learned that The Pretties come with a wide variety of accessories.  What fun!!!  Everything from canes to self-whittled walking sticks.  They ride in on wheelchairs or use walkers that can convert into seats that give them an excellent view of any table or slot mahcine.  They carry oxygen tanks or attach them to their wheelchairs.  They even use the oxygen tubes to help carry the Rewards Card BCRS offers.  They have bags galore and fill them with the most amazing items.  One lady dropped her diaper as she was moving towards the bathroom.  She wasn't concerned though.  BCRS is a very clean place.  She picked it up and proceed to the bathroom where undoubtedly she put her hidden accessory to good use.  A new trend is to wear clothes with holes.  There was a very stylish man who had at least 3 or 4 good holes in his shirt placing awesome bets at the blackjack table.  He was not winning but the intensity was great.  I completely understood when he turned to me and asked me if by chance I had any cigarettes he could borrow.  Seems they are very expensive at BCRS and he certainly couldn't take any money away from his betting.  I completely understood and dug through my purse but much to my chagrin had to decline when I remembered I no longer smoke.  Sweet sweet man completely understood and just turned his toothless grin to the person on the other side of him.  Awwww - I love The Pretties.  Finally it was time to leave and as we strolled towards the exit I stopped one last time to take a look at my people.  I smiled at the shemale walking by and grinned even bigger when I saw the 23 year old couple with all four of their kids struggling to get to the buffet.  I got a couple of nods from smoking pregnant lady and her apache medicine man.  Goodbye for now my pretties.  I'll see you soon.

Heartache....

Heartaches come in all shapes and sizes.  There’s good heartache and bad.  There’s the smile of my 20 month old grandson that completely breaks my heart in two.  There’s the moment when your son tells you that he no longer wants to hug you goodbye at school.  There’s the moment when you realize your child has lied to you for the first time or the first time they tell you that they can’t stand you because you grounded them.  I’ve sent a kid to military school as punishment and cried for hours and hours after I dropped him off.  I’ve lost my father to an illness that could have been easily prevented and screamed at the chief of surgery because I couldn’t understand the fairness of it all.  I’ve been the victim of domestic violence and survived only to have a Judge tell me that I was required to subject my children to this horrible man twice a month.  I’ve suffered heartache - in small ways and in large ways.  I’ve been told I’m tough though I personally don’t think so.  I know some of my choices were more tough than others. I can look at all of these things and see the ones that were hard and the ones that were not so hard.  However, I cannot compare any of the previous aching that I’ve suffered to what happens to my heart every time I see her smile in my mind or hear her voice in my head.   If you’ve read any of my previous blogs you’ll know that my best friend, Bonnie, was killed in a car accident on August 7^th, 2010.  It’s been almost 2 months now and still I have moments that take my breath away because the heartache is so great.  Two nights ago I went to bed missing her so much I just laid on my husband’s shoulder and cried.  Not a hard cry - just a weepy soft cry.  Then last night I had a terrible nightmare where I was trying to reach her in a crowded room to tell her not to drive her car because there was going to be an accident.  She was across the room being her usual lovely self with friends and people wouldn’t get out of the way so she left and I woke up yelling for her.  It was devastating.  I don’t know quite how to process these moments.  I don’t know what behavior is acceptable.  I’m able to laugh and joke around with friends.  I’m able to kid around with my children and husband.  Then suddenly I find I want to scream to the world that Bonnie is dead and I won’t ever see her again.  Is that normal?  I don’t know.  I am addicted to pictures of her which kind of creeps my husband out.  I have her beautiful smile all over my house now and on my desk at work.  I constantly pull more up on my computer and just remember what we were doing at the time it was taken.  I talk to her on the way to work.  I suffered great loss before, but it was loss I could prepare for.  My grandfather was a great man who collapsed at my house but God still gave me another three weeks to be able to say goodbye to him.  My father became needlessly ill but I was given two months to prepare myself and tell him how much I loved him.  Nothing in the world prepares you for going on vacation with your best friends one week and then losing one of them just five days later.  It’s insane and I’m not sure that I can wrap myself around it yet.  I find myself wondering if she knew how much I loved her.   I can’t remember if I told her how thankful I was for her – although that was standard conversation on our little trips together.  What would I say if I had five more minutes?  I think this is at least part of it:  Bonnie:  You’re beautiful and crazy all at the same time.  You’re the most understanding, attentive, loveable friend I’ve ever had.  I’m so thankful that you’ve been there to give me good advice when it comes to my children.  I’m so thankful that you let me vent and cuss and say things I shouldn’t then you let me tuck it away and act like I never did it.  THANK you for loving me so much that you stood up for me even when you knew I was wrong.  Thank you for not always telling me when I was wrong because I know there have been many.  Thank you for all of the home-made gifts you’ve given me like my FBI badge, the beach ball, the hat, the pictures – gosh you put in a lot of time and effort just being my friend…  Thank you for laughing so much and making me laugh right along with you.  Thank you for coming into my life when you did and blessing me for so long with the type of friendship I never knew existed until I met you.  I love you.  I need you.  Please don’t leave me.  Life without you around will be gray….  

I know there is more to say – my mind just floods and then stops thinking altogether.  Today is not an exceptionally sad day.  I still have friends making me laugh.  But in the background – where I try my best to keep it – is that terrible ache that I’m not sure will ever go away.  It’s the ache that fills the hole in my heart that was once filled with her every day antics.  I miss you sweet girl. 

Dumbass

If you are the mother of a teenager you know why sometimes animals eat their young, right?  Seriously – all joking aside – you know why, right?  It is very evident that my 14 year old thinks I know nothing at all.  It is only because I remember feeling the same way when I was her age that I have not strangled her and roasted her like a pig.  I do realize that some day she’ll think I’m smart enough to come to for advice.  However, this stage where I’m a complete dumbass is a bit irritating to say the least.  I am good for only a few things at this point in her life.  That is paying for her needs, driving her places and fetching whatever she needs if she feels sick.  I am good enough to cook for her, but not to explain to her that when cleaning the kitchen you might want to use an actual cleaner on the counter.  I’m a dumbass.  I’m good enough to turn the temperature down at night, but a complete idiot if I feel the temperature should be higher than 68 during the day.  I’m a dumbass.  I am absolutely excellent at going to the mall and pulling out my bank card, but good grief what was I thinking when I suggested she might look cute in that shirt????????  I’m a dumbass.  What?  You need your hair cut?  Not a problem because I know exactly where the best hair dresser is.  No – I won’t suggest any styles to you because it is obvious I have no taste at all.  I’m a dumbass.  I will be there to cheer you on during your competitions because I ROCK at being supportive, but I had no clue that using your actual name therefore allowing people to know that the mom with the painted face and pompoms is your mom is an outrageous thing to do.  I’m a dumbass.  THANK GOD that I know exactly the right medicine that helps you when you’re in the midst of painful pms but for freaking sake how could I even begin to suggest you take it BEFORE the pms begins to be preventative?  I’m a dumbass.  Telling you that you need to get more sleep in order to not be so tired – how do you put up with the dumbass that’s your mother?  Wanting you to do the laundry before the entire 2^nd floor of the house smells like your dirty socks?  Dumbass.  Suggesting that you shut your bathroom door during your menstrual cycle so I do not have to pull another tampon out of the dogs mouth is proof that once again, I am a complete and total dumbass.  Of course the list could go on from here to eternity but I think, Dear Reader, you are beginning to pick up the frustration that I am so graciously laying at your feet.  Therefore, I’ll stop.  This dumbass mother must wrap up the day and go take my brilliantly smart and wise teenager for her hair appointment and Halloween costume.  Clearly I will try to think of ways not to burden her with my dumbassiveness.  

Gran's Visit....

So my Gran came to dinner for her birthday.  I spared no expense putting together something that I thought would please her palate.  All of my effort was to be truly rewarded to say the least.  First – I was out until late late on Friday because my usual stop for happy hour became an all night rendezvous when my friend Hazel called me and begged freakishly, in fact, almost in a harassing manner, for me to stay so her husband could join Brian and I.  We stayed.  OUCH!  Saturday came along with the headache and nausea that too much drinking gives even the most seasoned of us.  Blah!  Not only was I a bit under the weather but Kennedy had an all-day competition!  It took until about 6 that evening for me to feel relief from the previous night and I still had 6 hours to go before I would be home again and laying on my sweet pillow in bed.  However, Kennedy’s team won grand champions so I couldn’t be anything but overjoyed for her (on the outside anyways).  I climb into bed and close my eyes only to open them what seems like mere seconds later when morning comes and I must prepare for Gran’s visit.  This is when I realize I haven’t bought her a present yet.  Off to the store I go.  Grab the presents, forget the wrapping.  Oh well – the Macy’s bag will do because the card I got ROCKS!  Run home and for the next four hours I am cooking my @ss off.  Menu:  Appetizers: Tomato Basil Goat Cheese crudités and gourmet cheeses w/ crackers; First course: Mango prosciutto salad on mixed greens with lemon vinagarette; Second course:  Pesto stuffed chicken with roasted tomatoes and Onions served with a white wine sauce and stuffed mashed potatoes.  Dessert:  Chocolate Mousse with Vanilla Cream and Raspberries.  Yes I was a bit obnoxious with it all but I always want my gran to feel special.  Well – did I ever know how special she felt after dinner.  Reader – I could go through all the crazy things she said individually like when she said that my ex convict, drug dealing aunt had been through “so much” or when she said that I was so blessed to have such a hard working family while I was the only one standing in the kitchen sweating my ass off for her;  However it was one comment in particular that made me realize that growing as old as 85 is probably not going to be the goal I set for myself in the future.  While relaxing in the living room after dinner my gran and I are chatting.  I ask her to share some memories with me – things like her most embarrassing moments or something she was especially proud of.  This is when my gran looks me straight in the eye and says:  Renae – Sunshine – you will realize some day that memories are only for yourself because no one really cares.  The truth is that no one thinks about anything but themselves.  They do not care about your memories at all.  People are just selfish and that’s the truth.  Then my gran proceeded to say she was tired, but was there any more of that chocolate mousse left before she goes?  I gave my gran more chocolate mousse.  I walk her to her car and hug her goodbye, tell her I love her, blow her a kiss as my aunt drives her away…..and as I turn to walk back in the house I think to myself “looks like white castle is going to be serving the dinner for birthday #86!”  While what she said made me sad I knew it was coming from an 85 year old woman who truly didn’t mean it.  She knows that I love her and I know that she loves me.  This was a test of the crazies.  I passed.  And of course I’ll start planning the next dinner we invite her to. 

GRAN......

I love my gran.  When I was younger she insisted on hosting every birthday party for me with elaborate cakes she would make herself.  I remember when I was 9 it was a carousal with incredible detail.  Gran has always been the kind of gran that they write books about.  She taught me how to bake cookies and pies, had me spend the night whenever I could.  She would take me shopping for silly treats.  I remember once she wanted to get “healthy” so I went with her to a woman’s workout center where they let me lay on the jiggle table next to her.  No kidding – we were laying on a table for like 20 minutes just getting jiggled back and forth.  My gran was so excited that she could lay down and slim down at the same time.  Of course after we worked out together we went to McDonalds and got a strawberry shake because we’d lost so much weight.  Ha!  While my grandfather’s pet name for me was Miss America, my gran’s pet name for me was Sunshine of my Life.  Still to this day when I call her she will say – Oh My – It’s the Sunshine of my Life!  I love my gran.  However, that is not the point of this blog.  Reader – I wrote this introduction paragraph so that you would understand how I feel about my gran and not be offended at the next paragraph.  Nothing in the world will ever make me treasure this wonderful lady any less than I ever have because she has done so much for me and been there for me so many times through my life.  She is my safe haven, a mentor, a class act that I hope to model my life after.  Of course there’s an exception – one thing that I hope does not take over as I age like dear gran.  That, dear reader, is THE CRAZIES!!!

Okay – so let’s get to the point.  My conversation two nights ago with Gran about drove me F’N crazy!!!!  No kidding.  Starts out like this -  G:  Hi Sunshine of my Life!  How are you?  R:  Hi Gran – I’m doing good.  How are you doing?  G:  Oh honey it’s so good (now with tears) to hear your voice.  It’s been soooooooo long!  (keep in mind that I talk to my gran at least several times a week.)  R:  Gran – don’t cry!  We just talked the other day.  Guess What?  I’m calling to remind you that I’m picking you up Sunday to come to my house and spend the afternoon with me!  Remember?”  G:  Oh honey that’s so much work on you.  You don’t have to do that.  I’m fine here sitting on my couch all alone.  R:  Gran – it’s your birthday!  Of course I want to spend your birthday with you.  G:  Oh Sunshine – you spoil me so much (again the tears) I do not know what I’d do without you.  I tell everyone how you spoil your grandma so much.  All my friends are so jealous of me.”  R:  Well Brian and I will pick you up at 1:00pm on Sunday.  Will that be okay with you?  G:  Oh sunshine – you don’t have to do that.  Why, you’re so busy working.  I’m fine here sitting on my couch all alone.  R:  Well Gran – don’t you want to come?  G:  WHAT?  Now don’t you say that Renae Lee (now angry) of course I want to come – how could you think I don’t want to come?  R:  I didn’t mean that Gran.  I just wanted to let you know that Brian and I would be there to pick you up on Sunday at 1pm.  Will that be okay?  G:  Oh Sunshine I don’t know what I’d do without you.  You spoil me so much.  I tell all my friends about you and they’re all just as jealous as they can be.  R:  Okay Gran – I’ll see you Sunday at 1pm.  G:  (now tears again)  Oh Sunshine Of My Life – I love you so much!  R:  Bye Gran! (and then I hang up the phone quickly before she can again tell me that she is fine sitting on the couch all alone) 

Most recently my gran has taken to explaining her new 85-year-old body functions.  In the middle of a phone conversation I will be interrupted with a “BYE RENAE I GOTTA GO!”  Interesting I say – someone must be at the door.  NOOOOOOOOOO.  15 minutes later my gran will call back and tell me things no granddaughter should ever have to hear in her life.  G:  Oh Sunshine – thank goodness you’re still home and we can talk!  I’m sorry about that.  R:  Are you okay Gran?  G:  Oh Yes honey – you know – when you get older some things just don’t wait and, well, I hate to tell you about it but since you asked, I had dinner a little while ago and my body decided it was time to let it all go.  Your grandmother barely made it to the bathroom in time.  Gosh – Sunshine I’m sorry I told you that – why that’s disgusting.  (angry voice now) Why do you let me go on like that?  Call me tomorrow.  (and she hangs up the phone).   I know, dear reader, that she has not hung up on me because she’s mad at me, but rather because she realizes she just explained to me that she had a severe dumping episode and is now embarrassed.  Protocol calls for our next conversation to be started out acting like we haven’t spoken in ages so that she can believe I’ve forgotten all about it. 

Again, Reader – know that I love my gran to pieces and don’t know what I’ll do when the time comes for her to be with my grandfather.  However – I’m sure on Monday I’ll have a nice blog about the antics of Sunday’s birthday dinner with gran.  Until then….cheers!

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

I just want to scratch her eyes out and I don't even know her name!!!!!  Seriously!  Some bitchy little "my shit don't stink" insignificant RECEPTIONIST trying to put me in my place by telling me the doctor would not be “interested” while using her sarcastic little sneer should consider herself extremely lucky at this moment in time because I would be totally slapping the sneer right off of her face before she took another breath if she were within reach.  That she actually has no hesitation to answer for the doctor and doesn't give him the right to choose for himself whether or not he'd like to be featured in the TOP THREE FREAKING LADIES PUBLICATIONS IN THE NATION is about as presumptious as it comes.  Oh - be sure that I will find a way to contact the doctor and when I do I will let him know that the nasty little snot he has answering his phones is abnoxiously rude and he would be much better served if he found himself a new gal friday to take care of answering calls in a polite manner.  I will inform this doctor that Presumptious Patty actually chose to refuse the opportunity for him to have a published article read by almost half a million readers IN HIS AREA ALONE!!!!!!!!!  The amount of new patients and credibility this nasty cat just cost him will undoubtedly cost him an immeasurable amount of monetary gain and the respect of his peers.  After I tell this doctor what dowdy doody did, he will for sure fire her and make an example to his staff with regards to the treatment of people as important as I. 

F’N C**T BETTER WATCH WHO SHE MESSES WITH.  Some people will cut a b!tch for behavior like that! 

THANKS!

I know someone named Hazel

She’s really into Basil

She thinks she is so awesome

With eyes just like a possum

I’m not sure if she’s sane

I’m not inside her brain

But she is so fun

And I’m her number one

We like to drink and text

What will she tell me next

She gives me much relief

From all my recent grief

Her husband’s not a banker

I wrote this poem to thank her

EXHAUSTION....

Last night I reached a new level of exhaustion that I was amazed to have achieved – until this morning.  It all started a couple of weeks ago when I volunteered to cook for 150 people that participate in the Ryle Marching Band.  My daughter is on the color guard team and I’ve been so impressed with all their hard work I just wanted to help in some way.   So after careful planning and estimation – I started cooking on Thursday for Saturdays dinner.  I literally finished cooking 1 hour before the food was to be delivered at the school for transport to the competition.  Crazy.  I then proceeded to volunteer to be a bus chaperone.  Go ahead and say it – I agree with you – I’m a dumb ass.  Excellent observation.  So I hop on the bus already tired and sporting an awesome headache that will not leave for the remainder of the day.  After the 45 minute obnoxious and loud ride to the competition my headache is far superior than any recent one I remember.  I help organize the food area with plenty of time left over before dinner service.  Terrific!  I get a chance to go to the field – sit in the bleachers – and watch Kennedy and her awesome color guard team win BEST color guard out of 20 schools.  The entire band’s performance was so incredible I was once again brought to tears.  Hip Hip Hooray!!!  Hurry – it’s time to serve the food before finals.  My beloved hubby and I head over to Ryle’s area and finish setting up food just in time to begin service.  150 people later we realize that as usual – I’ve made way too much.  Not a problem!  There’s a family in need so the food will not go to waste – yeah!  We help clean up feeling sooo drained.  Then of course we find out about the trophies received and I love seeing my daughter so incredibly psyched out and happy!  It’s time to go back to the field and watch the bands perform at finals.  It’s apparent that not only are the parents fatigued but so are the teenagers in the band.  I immediately know the performance is not as good as the one in the preliminary portion of the competition.  The color guard has a rifle drop and a flag drop.  The marching band has a few uneven lines.  I keep my fingers crossed because I see other teams are dropping also and not marching as well.  What can they expect when the day started at 8:30am and it’s 10pm???  All in all we still did terrific.  Ryle came in 3^rd – congratulations to them.  It’s over – it’s almost 11pm.  I’m completely whacked.  We all stumble back to the buses and I literally have to wake myself up on the way home.  I’m supposed to be chaperoning – so I do a quick look around – HAND CHECK!!!!  We get back to school, unload the buses – reload up our car.  The entire day is summed up in one moment for me.  We’re walking back to the band room and my daughter is talking with friends.  Suddenly I hear:  “Hey everyone – it’s my mom and dad!  I LOVE YOU MOM AND DAD!!!”  Unexpectedly there are 20 or so teenagers shouting out their love for us and I know without a doubt that, though I feel done-in, I would do it all again in a heartbeat just to hear my child exclaim her appreciation in such a manner.  This is what it’s all about.  I cry a little and grin a lot.

Reader – did you think I forgot to finish my story about my exhaustion?  Not at all.  We collapsed at home in bed and woke up early-“ish” the next day.  By Noon I was wide awake, showered, and out doing my normal weekend errands such as grocery shopping etc.  At 3:00 I realize the exhaustion of the past three days has not left me.  Being the smart assertive girl that I am, I listened to my husband suggest an energy drink and immediately agreed.  Zip fizz is the best – so we partook.  At 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5am this morning I was cursing this company for their excellent product and positive that contacting an attorney with intent to sue would be the best path of revenge to seek. 

I sit here now, sharing these events with you, and wondering if there’s any fix good enough to keep my eyes from doing the “I’m so tired I wiggle” dance that they’ve been participating in all morning.  Seriously – exhaustion – it’s not underrated.  It’s not anything but pure agony.  Of course it’s also Monday morning.  The combination is almost too much to bear.  But of course I will be fine.  I will run my “after work errands” and then go home and throw the trout I set out this morning in the oven.  After dinner I will kiss everyone goodnight and collapse for sure.  Tomorrow’s another day!!!!!!

My Angel...

Your Joy and your Laughter
Happiness for ever after
Ohhhh - that's just you

The sunshine in your eyes
Never comes as a surprise
oh no - that's what you do.

And though for a season I won't see you friend
I know it's a short time 'til I see you again
For now when I need you I'll just close my eyes
And see you dancing in the skies.....

The joy that overflows your cup
The way your whole face always lights up
Oh - the smiles you've made...

My friend and a mother -
Daughter, Sister and a lover
oh - the joy you gave....

And though for a season I won't see you friend
I know it's a short time 'til I see you again
For now when I need you I'll just close my eyes
And see you dancing in the skies.....

So Angel please guide us
Always staying right beside us
oh - we need you still

Your spirit surrounds us
Heaven's wings will wrap around us
oh - let our hearts heal

And though for a season I won't see you friend
I know it's a short time 'til I see you again
For now when I need you I'll just close my eyes
And see you dancing in the skies.....
And see you dancing in the skies..................

STRESS

I love to cook.  Although some of my friends are quite frank about how awesome and terrific they can cook (Hazel), I choose to take a more humble approach and just hope it turns out for the best.  I am not amazing.  I am not terrific.  But I do enjoy it and absolutely love it when others enjoy my creations too.  GAWD – I’m so full of shit today!!!!!  I love to cook and think I’m pretty good most of the time.  I admit however to undertaking projects that eventually drive me insane and to creating recipes that we’ll call “undesirable” to say the least!  This week just happens to be one of those weeks. 

While I don’t intend to go on and on and on about the situation in my blog today, I did want you, Reader, to know that I am under added stress and pressure therefore reacting a bit oddly to otherwise normal situations.  This is what leads up to a moment I call “Stomping Stalker”. 

So today I am walking back to work from a somewhat tense lunch.  Immediately after I hug my friends goodbye I turn and start walking towards my office.  I am just a few steps away when I begin hearing a rather loud stomping fall in behind me.  Odd, I think.  What an annoying walk this person has.  I continue walking, picking up my pace a bit to see if I can leave “stomper” behind.  Oh no – stomper decides that he/she will pick up her pace also.  Weird – I think stomper wants to follow me.  Quickly I think about my options.  I stop short and cross the street before it’s necessary just to get away from the mystery stomper behind me.  I smile as I cannot hear stomping behind me.  RELIEF!  Ha!  Whatever!  Suddenly there is a “trotting stomp” behind me.  CRAP!  I continue walking – imagining that this stomping person has to be 7 feet tall – is probably very scary looking, and not someone I particularly want to walk down the street with.  WHY is stomping person following me?  I stop when I could have crossed the street at the corner thinking Stomping Person will go around me and cross – mind you, no traffic is coming.  Oh No…not at all.  Stomping person stops behind me.  I try to look out of the corner of my eye to see if I can catch a glimpse but see nothing.  This is the moment that I decide to call this being “Stomping Stalker”.  The “Walk” sign changes and I begin walking again.  So does SS.  Clunk Clunk Clunk Clunk Clunk – good grief!  My heart starts beating a little fast because I’m positive that SS is following me for a reason.  I’m about to be mugged in broad daylight..  I tighten my grip on my purse.  Do I know this person?  Is it someone that I passed on the street earlier and gave a dirty look too?  I promise Reader my dirty looks aren’t on purpose – they’re actual involuntary responses that come across my face when the thoughts in my head are not nice. --- totally unavoidable.   

Just as panic is about to seize me I see my building up ahead.  Relief replaces the panic and I make a beeline for the door.   Ahhhhhhh – I grab the handle and push – I’m SAFE!!!!  Wait….WTH????  I’m heading towards the elevator and SS is in my lobby!!!!!   Calmly I reach the elevators and there are other people there.  I cross to the far side and slowly turn around to face my stalker.  DO WHAT??????????  The only thing I see is this petite woman with ridiculously large RED clunky high heel booties on that look absolutely out of place on her and totally clash with the outfit she’s wearing!  This is SS?  The elevator door opens and I, along with two others and SS get in.  Sure enough – she clunked right on.  I press 12 and so does she – SERIOUSLY?  The others get off on 7.  I’m alone with the SS.  She is completely involved with her blackberry the way I am completely involved with her ugly red shoes.  We reach the 12^th floor – she walks to the left and clunks into the law office and I walk quietly to Advent wondering how in the world I was near hysteria over a skinny bitch with ugly shoes. 

Ahhhhh – maybe I am feeling a little stressed over project I have decided to undertake for the weekend!!!

My children's dictionary....

Many times throughout the last 20 years of raising my children I have realized that we often do not share the same opinion with regards to the meaning of words. 

For instance - who would have thought that 10 years ago murdering my son would have been an option, but when he walked in the room and said "That's Fat!" I saw red.  Right as I was about to swing the fatal blow Ben explains to me that he doesn't mean F-A-T, but rather P-H-A-T and it means:  Cool. 
“Do what?” I say!!!
Fast forward a couple years and suddenly I'm worried about the need for speech therapy.  Me:  Hey Ben can you bring me the phone?  Ben:  Aiight.  Me:  What?  Ben:  Aiight.  Me:  WHAT are you saying?  Ben:  Alllll-Riiigghhtt.  Me:  Do you need speech therapy??  Ben:  Mom - it's just the new way of saying it.  Me:  How about we pronounce our words.  I know it's odd to think of - but that's the way I like it. 
Over the years I've learned that while I think "bounce" refers to movement, the kids think "let's bounce" means "let's leave".  Imagine the quizzical look I gave my daughter the first time she said:  Let's Bounce, Mama!  Seriously?  You want to suddenly jump up and down???
 Of course the first time I heard my son talk about a guy and say:  He's blazed....I literally had a moment of shock where I thought my son was talking about how hot this dude was.  Immediately I was saying to myself that I could love my son no matter what and I would be supportive and tell him it was okay to come "out".  Very calmly I ask him:  So you think he's really cute?  He about busts a gut as he screams NOOOOO!!!!  Then he tries to be calm and explain that "blazed" means "high" or "strung out".  Ahhhhhhhh.......  Silently I said a prayer of thanks that my son did not have to go through a life of homosexual prejudice and struggle.

Other times I just want throw my hands up in the air and exclaim "COULD WE PLEASE SPEAK ENGLISH IN THIS HOUSE!"  When my daughter said:  "I need to collect some dead presidents" truly dear Reader, truly I absolutely knew that she meant she had a history assignment to write about our past presidents.  My answer:  I'll help you with that later tonight.  Much to my surprise Kennedy was delighted.  Wow - I thought.  It's so neat that she wants my help with homework and she’s a teenager!  I'm glad we're so close.  After dinner and dishes are over I look at Kennedy and say:  Let’s get on that report kiddo!  Kennedy looks at me like I’m from outer space.  “What are you talking about, Mom?”  I say:  “Duh!  You’re history assignment.”  She says:  “I don’t have a history assignment.”  I say:  “Don’t try to pull that on me young lady.  You told me about it earlier and said you had to collect dead presidents!”  Kennedy immediately plops down on the floor and starts laughing so hard she cannot breathe.  “What?  Whaaaat?” I yell.  I’m irritated to say the least.  This punk is NOT going to get away with not doing her homework.  She catches her breath – “MOM!  When I say collect dead presidents I mean I need MONEY!!!  I thought you were going to give me some money tonight for the movies this weekend.”  Obviously, I am disappointed.  Not only are we not “as close” as I thought we were; but there was no homework and no asking for help…..just a bratty teenager wanting more money.  UGH!!!

Obviously, I now just stay in a solid state of confusion while in conversation with my children.  I simply do not assume to have a clue what they are talking about.  I have come to realize that when Ben says:  “That’s clean!”  He means “That’s nice”.  When Nick says:  “Whoa – that’s off the Heasy” He really means:  Off the hook which means cool.  When someone’s a “shooter” it means they’re showing off.  “Sup!” mean’s What’s up.  “Wicked hot” means “Very hot”.

But I have, nevertheless, learned that when I speak to someone who is less than 30 years old I must practice a well-known technique called Repetitive Listening.  When one of the boys says:  She’s such a scrub.  I now say:  Honey do you mean the girl’s a maid or that she’s ugly and you don’t like her?  This has lessoned the amount of times I am ridiculed and has helped me gain a certain level of “cool” with the friends.  Guests arrive to me saying:  Yo!  You Straight?  And when I’m dropping the kids off at the movies I can say (in front of everyone) Yo Kennedy – you need some coin?”  and I can shout to the rest of the girls “What’s Doin?”

The kids absolutely enjoy my “wicked” vocabulary…….. I'm so gangsta!

Water....

Right now I 'm focusing on the consumption of water.  Why?  Because I want to be healthier.  It's not just water that I'm focusing on, I'm also doing things like eating small 200 calorie meals 6 times a day and walking, which surprisingly enough is not hard to accomplish at all.  It's this damn water that is driving me crazy.  Understand that for a living, I sit at my desk in front of a computer talking on the telephone.  That's it.  I call literally hundreds of people a week and then a fraction of them will actually call me back. A smaller fraction will listen to me tell them why they need to appear in Good Housekeeping Magazine and then an even smaller fraction will agree with me.  For this to take place though, I actually have to be sitting at my desk.  Makes sense, right?  Now back to the water.  When you drink 125 ounces of water before 5pm every day, does it really leave you with any time to do much else besides drink and pee?  Forgive my vulgarity reader, but seriously - I don't remember a time that I went to the bathroom 4 times in just 3 1/2 hours!!!  Now let's be clear - there's none of this "tinkle tinkle" shit happening.  No.  Not when  you have 64 ounces of water in you before Noon.  It sounds like the maintenance man is in the bathroom using a power washer to clean the toilet.  This leads to the next subject - public bathrooms.  Granted the bathroom I use is only shared by approximately 15 women on my floor, but I'm guessing that hearing a power washer person in the bathroom is not a pleasant experience for them to endure.  Could you imagine taking your bathroom break at work, walking into the bathroom, and being assaulted with the sounds of a raging waterfall?  I'm sure everyone who has had to encounter this disgusting event has stopped for a second to make sure there wasn't water spraying anywhere - a toilet leak - a busted pipe - certainly those aren't the sounds of a normal human being?

Water - obviously it's necessary - even the 125 ounces before 5pm if I'm trying to get my body back into healthy condition.  All I can offer is an apology to those who have to hear me complain and have the rotten luck of entering the bathroom at the same time as I do.  I'm sorry. 

Water - love to hate it.

Jolly Green Giant....

This weekend I spent time working for my daughter and her "causes."  My friday night "relaxation" time at Barleycorn's became a 6-10 shift at Ryle High School selling Hot Dogs, Burgers, Popcorn, Soft Pretzels, Pop, Candy and whatever a Nerd Rope is.  From the first sale forward I never stopped.  No breaks.  Nothing to drink but 2 swigs of a diet pepsi.  However, when the 4th person jumped in to start helping and managed to knock me with his elbow 10 times within 20 minutes I decided it was time to bail.  Therefore I left my shift 15 mins early.  I'm terrible I know. 

Let's examine this situation a little closer.  Imagine a 20 X 10 space in which you are to cook, refrigerate, heat and sell food.  Now add in 6 people working in this enclosed space.  Then add in a 6'5" 350lb man who is obviously a little depleted in the brain cell area.  With all of his huh? what? and other significant questions he is truly a helpful addition.  Now add in the fact that he feels like sharing MY cash register would be the most convenient spot for him to be helpful.  Nevermind that my process has been running seamlessly up until this point.  I have sweated, called orders, jumped other's when they tried to steal my customer's hot pretzel and handled the performance of this job perfectly.  Suddenly the Jolly Green Giant is jabbing me in the boobs, stepping on my feet and then - reader this is no lie - as I reach under the counter to get change for my customer JGG actually leans forward and has the balls to rub his BALLS against my hand.  UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!  For all of this loving physical affection he has shown there hasn't been ONE freaking apology.  Are You Kidding?  I'm not sure he knows how to do anything but mutter one syllable words like "Huh?"  After this final act of grotesque ball feeling I muttered a few distinct cusswords under my breath - grabbed my diet pepsi and walked away.  15 minutes later when my shift officially ended, Brian came looking for me. 

Brian:  "What happened?"
Me:  That @#$%^&*(*@#$%^&*(@#$%^&* made me touch his BALLLLLLZZZZZZZZZ!!!

Brian cannot speak because he finds the situation hilarious and is laughing.  Of course when he realizes that my face is beet red and I am not finding the same humor as he, he is suddenly able to find his calm. 

Brian:  "I'm so sorry honey"
Me:  !@#$%^&*()@#$%^&*!@#$%^&*

Ahhhhhh - now I feel better......     He rubs my back as we walk away.   When we get home he offers to fix me an adult beverage and serves it to me on the strong side.  After I've washed the skin off of my hands and checked myself for large bruises I am able to relax. 

I am certain that the next time I see JGG I will thank him for the feel he so graciously allowed me to cop at Friday's game and then I'll whisper in his ear - work on growing them a bit more because I couldn't actually feel a damn thing.   Asshole. 

Stupid People

I hate stupid people.  I abhor their very presence.  If I were a bumper sticker it would say:  It's Not That I'm Not A "People Person"; I'm Just Not A "Stupid People" Person!  or maybe I would go with:  Never Underestimate the Power of Stupid People in Large Crowds. 

Seriously, when people say stupid things to me it's a hard bite my tongue suffers in order to keep my mouth shut.  Like one time at Barnes & Nobles a woman walked around the corner to the aisle I was in and said:  Oh - there's more books over here!"  Seriously?  No shit sherlock!!!!  Once I seriously heard a teenager asking his mom if what she had was garlic or basil.  Do What??  Some kid who appears to be old enough to drive a car has no clue what garlic looks like or could possibly mistake it for BASIL??????

Anyway - what's worse is when someone who MUST be relatively smart pretends to be stupid.  For instance, I'm in sales and deal with people who manage doctor's offices, busy medical assistants, nurses and the doctors and surgeons themselves on a daily basis.  So when a "Marketing Director" who is a REPEAT client tells me she had no idea that there was a cost involved in the project she has committed to expects me to take her seriously - I must instantly walk away and not reply so that I do not say something this client could use against me in the future.  In essence, for the safety of my job I zip the lip.  UGHHHHH!!!

Thank God for blogging so that I can conveniently come here and write about the stupid bitch who just cost me my 1/2 day off on a day that I could have seriously used the extra time to accomplish some much needed tasks that I now have no idea how to accomplish before I have to start selling hotdogs at the high school football game tonight.  I believe that I should keep a stuffed stupid person in my office so that I can bitchslap it any time I feel the need.  I wish all telephone calls could be video so I could laugh in the face of the stupid idiot who literally just told me she didn't know about the fee.  Not only was the fee POSTED in the email I sent, it also appeared on the Overview flyer attached to the damn email .  Now throw in that they are a REPEAT customer and maybe you'll begin to feel the anger that is causing my blood to boil right now. 

Thank you Blogspot for saving my job.  Amen. 

Venting...

I have been a loyal user of your 'Always' maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts.


But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.


Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.'


Isn't the human body amazing?


As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customer's monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women.


The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.'


Are you f------ kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness, is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.


For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put down the Hammer' or 'Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong'.


Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullsh!t. And that's a promise I will keep.


Always. . ...


Femmina Arabbiata

HUMPS

Humps –


I’m not talking about lovely lady humps here so close your gasping mouth – the only crudeness going on is in your head!! I’m talking about the kind of humps in the road that sometimes you can get over and sometimes you can’t so you have to go around them. Either way it’s your choice to either conquer and move forward or let the hump stop you dead in your tracks. It hurts me to see people I love confronted with a hump – and then find themselves wallowing around in front of the hump, never finding a way to take a running jump over it or a side street shortcut around it. I am witnessing this right now in my life. Someone who’s been a friend for a long time. Smacked upside the head with a terribly huge hump somewhere between 7 and 12 months ago. The discrepancy in timing is in figuring out when the hump really showed up. I say 12 months – she says 7. It’s her hump. We’ll say 7. Regardless, 7 months has passed by and this friend is stuck in the same spot she was when it originally confronted her. Anger and bitterness have enveloped her like a cloud of misty rain, not leaving one part of her untouched. She snaps when spoken to, walks around in a perpetual horrible mood and has absolutely nothing positive to say about anything or anyone. So as her friend I tried to step in. Bad move. I tried to say – WAIT – this is self-destructive and you’re hurting people around you in the meantime. Wow was that not a good idea. I obviously am not a psychologist or a counselor or even able to give good advice. I just wanted her to see that even her closest friends were being affected and she needs to pull herself up by her bootstraps and beat this thing. Needless to say, it all backfired. She has been injured and feels attacked which was exactly NOT what we were trying to accomplish. I guess she’ll have to take our words and figure things out. I’ll let her make the next move and decide if she is interested in continuing our friendship. Man – what a load of shit! Hardship in life shouldn’t end friendships and yet I know many people who have lost friends during a divorce or lose contact after someone’s death. It’s a shame. I hope it doesn’t happen to us but it’s out of my hands. In addition there’s another hump that has plopped itself down right in front of our entire group. Technically, one month ago today we learned of our BFF’s death due to an insanely random car crash. OUCH. However, we’re determined that this hump won’t stop us. She wouldn’t want that. This hump we’re facing head on. This hump we’re trying to jump right over instead of hesitating. We have determined that only by continuously facing what’s happened will we be able to conquer and move forward. Linking arms with those closest around you when facing a hump is the ultimate best decision you can make. Added help and strength will push you right over the hump. However, sometimes we decide we can handle it alone and then we fail miserably and the hump is stuck in our life for FREAKING EVER! I hope when faced with your next hump you choose to armor up with your friends and family and not push them away. It’s a terribly lonely place when you face a hump alone. Lonely and unnecessary. For those of you who know me – I’m here to help you hump jump any time – Please count me in!

Labor Day

I had an exhausting but awesome weekend. First, went to a wedding and got to see family that I never see - and was reminded why I never see them. Is that awful to say? I actually do love them dearly – but their pettiness can be overwhelming sometimes. And so I self-medicated with free wine. Can you believe they served my Yellowtail????? It was chardonnay instead of shiraz which was probably for the best anyway as I do not want to see multiple close up pictures of my blueberry pie mouth with different family members. After the wedding I crashed for exactly 6 ½ hours before I had to get up, throw the suitcase in the car, and head to Newport, KY where my attendance was requested at the Carnegie Hall Labor Day / WEBN Fireworks. I can tell you that 6 ½ hours after my self-medicating indulgence at the wedding I was still sweating out the “medication” and therefore did not bother to shower just yet. It would have been pointless. Thus I adorned my FBI hat. Yes I have a real one – that story is for another day. So I put on my FBI hat, threw the suitcase in the car, managed to forget our favorite pillows but hightailed it back to Newport. Thankfully, I had a room reserved at the Holiday Inn Express. We made it there by 3p.m. after a five hour journey wherein my churning stomach required four rest stops to 1) buy greasy food 2)dispel the greasy food in various manners; 3) refill Gatorade consumption. By the time we reached Holiday Inn I was fit for a Queen – after I showered that is. Oh – and I was equally grateful that they obviously saw my still somewhat “shaky” condition and placed me and Brian promptly in the “handicap accessible” room on the first floor. Small favors are awesome! Brian took a nap – I took a long bath and drank another gallon of water. We showered – got ready – and made it to the party only slightly late at 5:30. How, you ask, was I ready to start drinking again? Easy – my Bri-Guy made me 2 small liquid “salads” within which I refortified myself and was how shall I say this – “Rearing to Go!”






Obviously, the party at Carnegie where I was just two blocks from the river front with incredible seats to the WEBN fireworks was fantabulous. I lost count after 16 beers. But hey – what the HELL was I doing counting anyway, right? We were dropped back off at the hotel – SWEET! The Monday morning after – well – it was fuzzy. We packed up, checked out, ran a few errands before we “needed” to go home. Did some light housework and then headed to bed…. at 3:00 in the afternoon. I will admit that this morning I still felt a bit “foggy” and “slow to respond” but the memories are memorable!!!! Spent time with close friends – watched fireworks, ate drank – and drank – and drank – and I’m absolutely positive that I offered fantastic comedy throughout various points during the event. I know my dancing was downright infectious as before long many were dancing. Obviously, it was because of the sleek and trendy moves I have in my back pocket to throw out there at any given time to my surprised audience. Let’s start with “Rolling the dice” – You know, where you act like you have dice in your hand, pretend to shake them – and then give the Vegas Roll so they’re sliding down the craps table? You don’t even use real dice – IT’S ALL PRETEND!! SWEET moves. Everybody loved it. I won’t brag about all the others I shared. It would take all afternoon. I’m just trying to paint a picture about how my presence truly made the party what it was and that I’m sure without me it wouldn’t have been as much fun. I know this because EVERYONE was telling me they were so glad they got to see me. But alas, I feel as if I’m bragging so I’ll stop.






The last part of my weekend was shocking to say the least. Readers – you will definitely shake your head when I share my misery with you. My dog is famous. Her name is Bella Corrina and her picture is on almost every pet product out there. I’m not sure why it took so long for me to notice this invasion of our privacy – obviously I am not getting paid for the use of her beautiful mug – but Seriously???? They have pictures of her doing EVERYTHING!! I saw her laying on her favorite pillow. I saw her doing that amazing Frisbee catch she so loves to do. I saw her retrieving balls – pulling on ropes – even eating milkbone dog treats. SO NOT FAIR! Some fantastic photographer has been stalking sweet Bella and taking pictures without permission. So I’ve decided to remedy this disastrous situation by sharing my own picture of the laziest, most cuddly, I don’t care about anything but my need to lay on top of the nearest person Labrador Retriever – here she is – I know – she’s a cutie…..