Wednesday, November 14, 2012


My girl will reach a milestone at exactly 8:05am this morning when she turns the big 2-5.

As her mother's daughter she's counting days until her Social Security retirement benefits start.

Wondering what color to dye her gray hair?

And what would be a better choice a three leg cane walker or just the regular wheeled variety?

Seriously... I have wrinkles older than her.

But that age obsession thingy....appears it's passed on just like the love of blue cheese and black licorice.

About twenty years ago Susan (you may know her as that hunk of no reading cow dung dear sister o mine that can't manage to devour this delightful blog) decided to ditch me and go live with Marmie in the OC.

The very day Susan hightailed it outta town Googie and I sat on a curb and watched as Susan's car pulled away and headed down our street.

As much as I hate to admit this in print (the evidence thing) I thought I was going to lose what was left of my mind if I had to navigate everyday life minus my sister in my hair.

My little girl and I sat thigh to thigh on the curb in front of our house waving until Susan's car was out of our sight,

Googie watched closely as I wiped tears that were spilling faster than I could catch them.

After about ten straight minutes of listening to the hysterics she put her pudgy lil arm around my neck and squeezed in tight to my cheek,

then whispered into my ear....

"Don't worry momma" she said "I will be your sister now".

That right there is just a sprinkling of what this girl does for me (and for many others too) day in and day out.

She faces, every. single. day. the challenges of a debilitating illness with courage and grace.

She is ever changing and growing.

Learning to become a Doula and a Photographer.

She's a free, and gentle flower, growing wild.

And I am more proud of her than words could ever express.

Happy birthday baby, you're all that... and a bag of chips.


Friday, November 2, 2012


I feel I'm nearing the point of not turning on my porch light for Trick or Treat-ers anymore.

My bones creak and groan with even the thought of getting up and down from Daddio's Lazy Boy chair to answer the door.

I'm about ready to punch the next pint sized terrorist that kicks my door or lays on my doorbell.

(The candy lady's old bladder does call every now and again)

I don't mind passing the goodies to the kids over 16, seriously, I simply look past the lip and eyebrow piercings and the tatts and drop in a miniature Milky Way bar.

But the babies...

the toothless babies may just be where I draw the line.

A friend at work and I shared old lady horror stories yesterday of our Halloween adventures.

I too had (several, actually) young-ins pass me their own bag and then another bag saying "it's for my brother/sister"... pointing to a baby in a stroller.

Not a toddler mind you... the babies in those strollers still smelled of afterbirth.

Should there have been a warning issued to the parents piloting the stroller...?

"Hey, can that kid, the toothless one, chow nuts yet?"

"The coconut in this Almond Joy may prove a choking hazard for those with only a suckling instinct"....

When, when exactly when did I become such an evil spirited old bag?

A work in progress I guess.

Tell me your Halloween tales..

Or am I alone in my misery?

xoxoxoxoxox TGIF

Monday, October 29, 2012

Who let the dogs out....?

Daddio's band had a gig playing for a Halloween party this past Saturday. He went as the GEICO caveman and for once in his short life, he felt comfortable in a costume.

So comfortable was he, even in the preparation of this event, that his jovial, prepared self invited any and all of "us" to come join the fun.

Marmie and I had plans to hang out, meaning that the two of us needed costuming.

If there is one thing I inherited from my mother, it's the knack of being able to think up some goofy Halloween costumes on the fly.

A couple of years ago Daddio and I had gone to a Halloween party dressed as teen thugs...  the "costumes" fooled some close family members.

(In their defense, the party was in the dark back yard and Daddio and I kept a low profile as we mingled...)

I decided to recreate this old favorite...

I borrowed an old pair of Bear's baggy jeans and some boxer underwear from the neighbor kid.

The jeans were large enough for me to yank em down around my hip bones with the "porkies" sticking out the top.

Marmie had a like pair (although with her 4'11" [on a good day] frame she had about a foot of extra material pooled on the bottom, I sloppily rolled it up a few her an extra goofy look.

We be saggin...

For the top half, I wore an old shirt of Bear's ( I swear...I don't recall Bear being a thug, but you know what they say about the third kid and the pacifier on the floor, same principal I guess when it comes to dressing your baby...the first one gets the Carters and the OshKosh b'gosh and the third one get the gun garb and the spikes...shrug)

Here was Marmie's look....

We added some neck tats...

Some flashy footwear and a couple of chains...

Marmie and I got to our first was held in a community center where there was also a wedding reception going on at the same time...the parking lot proved to be pretty funny. It was quite dark and Marmie and I kept our skull and cross boned bandana wrapped heads tucked chin to our chest low..

In the bathroom of this facility the classy dressed female wedding guests wouldn't make eye contact with us.

Not sure if they should pull their purses closer or laugh....

One never knows, even on Halloween.

When we got to the club where Daddio was playing we walked in and stopped at the check-in table, again with our hat bills tipped downward...

"Should I card em?" a man standing near the table asked the seated woman taking the entry fee.

I glanced up at her from under the bill of my hat...

"NAHHHHHH" she said after getting a good look at my mature face.

Wanting to be really authentic before we left I took a picture of the two of us with my I phone (of course it was taken where else?? in the bathroom...tee-hee).

I told Marmie to put on her toughest face...and we would have pursed our lips and made gang signs if I could have thought of any...

PS...Joyce Ann thinking of you (as always this time of year). What are you going as...??? any of my old friends and family reading this, quick, where were you 30 years ago today??

Give up?

Daddio and my wedding.

Happy Anniversary to us... make my heart sing and my old legs dance, still.


Tuesday, October 23, 2012

A universal rating system...

Soaking in a hotel hot tub in New Mexico, Marmie, my dear step-sis (the best travel companion ever) and I shared easy conversation.

We were alone in the tub, but soon were joined by a young woman who'd just (effortlessly) swam about a hundred laps in the large swimming pool located next to the jacuzzi.

When she was done with her swim she climbed out and walked over to where we sat.

I couldn't help but think about the the movie "10" and actress Bo Derek. There is a line in the movie trailer that says something like "In a world where women are rated 1 thru 10, this one is an 11."

With a wide smile and a cheerful "HI" she climbed in.

The four of us sat and traded small talk.

We learned she was there with her grandmother.

The two of them on a road trip for her grandmother's 70th birthday.

They were in New Mexico to see the Albuquerque International balloon fiesta a "have to"on her grandmother's bucket list.

Being a "Grandma's girl" myself, I ate up every word this pretty thing had to say about her wonderful relationship with her cool grandma.

I totally got her.

She talked about her work and her family. We learned that she had three sisters, one of them her identical twin.

There is something to be said about the beauty of youth.

The flawless skin, the bright white teeth, the perky everything.

I had an instant of wishing for a fountain of youth.

When it was time to go we said our goodbyes and headed off toward our rooms.

"Good lawd that girl was pretty" I said to my sister (not that stinkin no good fer nuttin Susan, the other one, the good one, the one who reads this blog)

"Seriously, she was stunningly beautiful" I continued.

"Yeah" she answered "and can you i-ma-gine that there are TWO of them running around on this planet !!??"

Talk about kicking a girl when she's down (around a number -2 and counting backwards).

Happy Tuesday to you.

Thanks for visiting this blog.


Tuesday, October 16, 2012

"24" revisited....

The 16th of October always brings me a (HUGE) bit of anxiety.

The day my brother got into a motorcycle accident that took his young life.

This October 16th marks the 24th anniversary of his death.

Which means that today he's been gone as long as he was here.

In order to allow others to feel my pain I say things like "Bear, can you imagine losing Googie or Prince Buttercup? Googie is 24, the same age as Uncle John was when he left us, could you imagine life without her?".

He frowns at me and shakes his head.

This puts things into perspective for me too.

Because sometimes I feel like it was so long ago that maybe I'm not remembering things right...

Things like how close we were and how HUGE his loss was.

I don't doubt it, ever, its just that the passage of time has a muting effect.

So when I ask Bear about Googie I feel like I've been punched in the gut.

I know what it is to love a sibling for 24 years.

That's a long time to forge an awesome relationship.

And an even longer time to miss it.

PS...Yo, bro John, I sooo know you would read this blog if you were able, can't say the same about that bimbo sister of ours. There are so many times I wish you could be here to gang up on her with me. I miss those days, and she is long past due a real good ass kickin... just sayin.

24 years in Heaven, you lucky dog, you! xoxo

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Auto pilot...

The Princess Buttercup lost her mother on Friday.

The suffering had gone on so long that a merciful passing was the prayer.

According to witnesses, in the minutes before she drew her last breath, she raised both her arms.

She stretched them to the Heavens.

In a strong, sure voice she proclaimed, “I’m going home”.

What a gift to my bonus child.

And to my son who witnessed this passage, gaining a renewed belief.

God is good.

I'm typing this post sitting on an unfamiliar bed in a strange town (Elk Town? Oklahoma) right dab in the middle of my road trip. I'm sick at heart that I can't be with The Princess Buttercup and the family at this time. 

I'm with my mom, holding her tighter than usual.

The funeral is this morning, please say a little prayer for a dear princess and her heartbroken dad.


Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Preparing for takeoff....

My daughter in law's mother is dying.

Actively dying as I type this post.

I've never met such a fighter, or someone with such a good attitude about the shitty "cards" she's been dealt.

She worked a lot longer than most people with stage four cancer do.

She smiled a lot longer too.

I'm ashamed of myself that I didn't get to see her more often.

It's really really hard and I'm a wuss.

I'm also ashamed to admit that truth about myself.

I bought a recordable story book that I wished I could have had the nerve to take to her house.

I've had it for over a year, I bought it when I learned how sick Princess Buttercup's mom was.

The book sits on a dresser in our computer room, right in plain sight, it daily reminds me of all of my shortcomings.

Be brave, live life.

Part of living is dying.

"Just do it" the book says to me.

Every single day it says to me "you are running out of time".

Our children, Buttercup and his Mrs. don't have children yet, my plan when buying the book was so that Princess Buttercup would have a story book, being read by her mom to share with her future children.

It was a grand plan.

And in a perfect world it would have been perfectly executed by a emotionally strong, healthy friend of a dying woman.

Obviously, she was not me.

My daughter in law's mom is awake every 4 hours or so. Hospice has instructed them to religiously keep on the medicine schedule.

These days it's all about pain managment.

Excruciating pain that causes agonizing screams if too much time passes between doses.

My daughter in law is too young to lose her mother.

Then again, every child of every age is too young to lose their mother.

I have to muster up all my courage to visit today.

This time there will be no saying "maybe this next treatment will help".

Mustering up the courage to say goodbye is nothing in comparison to my friend's courage in leaving her daughter and husband.

She has no choice.

That breaks my heart.

I want to tell her what a good girl she raised.

And selfishly I want to ask her to tell her daughter that it is okay to let me love her and care for her like a mother does, that it won't be disloyal to her.

I have to put on my big girl panties and my game face.

Googie said to bring the book.

Be brave,  live life.

Thank you for listening.