Friday, October 30, 2009

Grandma Jan and Aunt Mick.....

This one's for you!


Three years in a row Rob, Matt and Jeremy have won first place for Group Costumes at their school's Halloween contest.

Last year they went as the Presidental candidates and their running mates. Rob was hilarious as Obama.

The year before that they went as Chippendale dancers, complete with skin tight black pants and sleevless white button up shirts, white cuffs...the teachers busted a gut.

I love that this shy, quiet boy has grown into a fun loving, outgoing young man....

Can you dig it....ain't that one bitchin get up man?

Thursday, October 29, 2009

This day I married my friend......

Yep....twenty seven years ago I did in fact marry my best friend, the one I live for, laugh with, dream with, love.

That sentiment was brand spankin new and that is what our invitations said....

We had hokey matches that say A Love Match....(the kids crack up every time they stumble upon a pack).

Daddio and I dated for 8 (yes, I did type eight) long years before I told him he needed to shit or get off the pot. I've written before...he decided to take the shit or fall in a pile or whatever.

It appears that he made a good decision.

My eyes popped open at 3:15am. I had to pee and was suffering greatly from cramps. Once I was up I didn't think I would be able to go back to sleep so I started playing on the computer. This site was having issues and I was getting bored. I heard a creaking door around 4:15; it was Daddio looking for me. I decided to jump back into bed and he rubbed my back.

I lay on his chest and listened to his heart beat. Before long I was sawing logs.

When the alarm sounded at 5 it was a bit difficult to get that I could sleep, I couldn't.

Daddio was up and sipping his coffee when I got out of the shower.

He allowed me to maul him a moment while he sat in his lazy boy.

"Happy anniversary" I said.

"The same to you" Daddio answered.

"Thanks for marrying me" I teased.

"Thanks for marrying me" Daddio replied.

"Hey, no presents, okay?" Daddio said.

"Not even cards?" I asked.

"Nah" he answered.

Years ago this would have made me I realize that I already got my present this morning....laying next to a warm man who took away my bad cramps and lulled me back to sleep with a lullaby, a heart that I like to think beats for me.

Happy Anniversary Daddio!! xoxoxoxox

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The uninvited house guest...part deux

Yes, the mouse came back. And he brought a friend.

On Saturday (after a couple of Jimmy Beams and diet Pepsi) Daddio had the misfortune of seeing a mouse in our house.

He was in the basement and heard a noise. He opened the door to a small room where I keep hair stuff, vases, flower arrangements, in other words, a stash of crap. There amidst the perm rollers, the hair coloring and a pot of fake daisies was a little black mouse.

I figured that Daddio had seen the mouse running along the floor...or that he'd seen it scurry under a door.

When he told me that it looked him square in the eye, approximately 5 feet 9 inches off the ground, from its perch on the third shelf, second from the top, sitting, (like it owned the place) on my container of acrylic paints...that about did me in.

“Get it outta here…..get it outta here….get it outta here” I was a screeching broken record.

Daddio ran to the garage and went to work setting a trap. He generously shared the pizza he was eating and placed the mouse's share on a little old fashioned wooden mouse trap

He carefully walked it down the stairs, set it on the ground and bid the mouse "bon app├ętit”.

And au revoir.

(He didn’t really say exactly that, I wanted to try out the free online translation site I just found.)

The next morning I followed Daddio down to the room to see if the traps had done their job.

They were both empty…not only was there no little mouse cadaver…the pizza was gone too.

The trap was licked clean.

“Oh sweet Jesus” I cried. “Let me guess, we have a smart mouse in our house.”

Daddio quickly figured out the Jimmy Beam and diet Pepsi had clouded his normally very sharp mechanical mind and that he’d set the traps wrong.

He got to work and set them again. This time he used a tiny piece of bread and a small blob of peanut butter.

The following morning was an almost total repeat of the day before.

This time when we opened the door we saw the little black mouse, dead as a doornail with some peanut butter still on his little lips. (I can't be certain that it was in fact peanut butter on it's little lips or that it even had any little lips I didn't really get all that close...I let my imagination run wild sometimes).

“Where is the other one?” Daddio asked, looking puzzled.

“There were two traps” he said.

“ There were TWO? Find it” I screamed and tried to run for the stairs.

Daddio moved some large pieces of wood that were in the little room and he heard some rustling.

Something was back there.

“Oh man” Daddio said…”there is another one and it's stuck to the trap, still alive”.

I wanted to get the vacuum and suck it up or find a big shoe and clobber it.

Daddio got the trap, with the mouse still attached and went into the garage.

He yelled for a pair of gloves, which I dutifully delivered.

And Daddio, who can now add Amateur Veterinarian Surgery to his repertoire of vast and unusual talents, went to work trying to save the miniature house invader.

"I think he lost a limb",  he later told me. "Hopefully he will be able to survive with only three."

(Yeah,  I'm sure he will survive and then we will be duty bound to provide housing for a handicapped mouse and a couple of his friends.)

Later when he went to check on the poor maimed thing the mouse hadn’t moved from the spot where Daddio left him.

“What a way to start a day, I had to kill it” Daddio said with a broken heart. “It was too hurt”.

I've taken to wearing combat boots when I go downstairs to do laundry.

The "accident" site.
(Thanks for listening....)

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

An unwelcome visitor......

This was written in July....

This morning after waking Daddio, I grabbed the dog and went downstairs to pour dear hubby a cup o joe and let the pooch out to potty. As I rounded the corner into the kitchen I saw something out of the corner of my eye…something small and black.

I think we startled each other.

I screamed and it ran.

And then I ran.

Right up the stairs.

I burst through the closed bathroom door where I found Daddio using the toilet.

“There is a mouse in the house” I screamed “it ran in the downstairs bathroom”.

For the first time I could relate to Daddio’s mother who happens to be so afraid of mice that she will call him out at midnight if she thinks she may have seen/heard/imagined a mouse in her house.

I’m not sure if I object to it co-habituating with us because it’s a filthy little rat or because it’s sneaky and will scare the shit out of me when we happen upon each other.

It will probably be at night when we are both searching for food.

I can imagine it whizzing past me, seeking hidden shelter.

I’ll be so startled, my heart will pound and I’ll get all shaky legged from the adrenalin rush.

I can’t open Pillsbury refrigerator biscuits or play with a Jack in the Box for the same reason. I’ve been known (too many times) to yelp when my phone, placed on vibrate goes off during weekly staff meeting.

I can’t do startle.

“Please HURRY” I begged Daddio.

When he finally made it downstairs and into the other bathroom he spotted the critter.

“Grab a bowl” he instructed.

A bowl, A BOWL!? I had to do a quick inventory of my bowls trying to decide which one I could part with. Once it housed a mouse it would no longer be welcome in my cupboard.

Daddio got behind the door and quickly slammed it shut

I became momentarily paralyzed when, like a soon to be victim in a horror film, I noticed the enemy had an “out”.

There was a huge space under the bathroom door under which, when this creature decided to change its molecular structure and turn liquid, he would be able to escape from.

And he would, I was certain, be running toward ME!

I grabbed a big towel and slinked toward that gaping (1 inch) crawl space. I tossed the towel across the bottom of the door and was then able to take a breath.

Soon Daddio came out of the bathroom holding the bowl covered with the bathroom rug.

I was amazed at his Ninja skills…I didn’t think it would be that easy to catch a mouse.

Daddio, who can’t kill a fly took it outside and tossed over our favorite (not) neighbor’s fence.

I asked Daddio if he thought the mouse would find its way back “home” and take up residence with us again.

He thought no.

I then asked Daddio if mice run in packs? Travel in droves? Reproduce without a mate?

Later, while showering my exfoliating mitt fell off the shelf and grazed my bare ankle, I let out a blood curdling scream….. Jamie Lee Curtis/Janet Leigh style.

I am now officially one of those women…the ones who jump on a chair and scream for help when they see (or think they see/hear/imagine) a mouse in their house.

Monday, October 26, 2009

A mosaic of them all.....

"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." - George Eliot

"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower."- Albert Camus

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree….Emily Bronte

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all….Stanley Horowitz

The beauty is breathtaking here this time of year. I am mesmerized by the changing scenery. When I look at the trees I feel like there is a painter inside of me, waiting. 

Daddio doesn't get it....I will leave you with his latest autumn quote....

"You idiot! Don't you know what you're looking at is Death and Dying?"

What can I say, the man keeps me grounded.  ;-)

Edited to add that I did not scour the internet in search of beautiful fall pictures to place in my blog post...I, yes I took the beautiful aforementioned pictures with my new camera a Sony Cyber-shot DSC-H20 (all photographers list their equipment teee-hee) down the street at the Rec Center.      :-)

Saturday, October 24, 2009

The Doc-tor is in..................

"Mom" the minute I heard her voice I knew something was wrong.

"What?...WHAT'S WRONG????!!!!" I jump from my normal hysterical self to certified nut case when I hear that tone.

"Is a citation the same thing as a ticket?" sniffle, sniffle.

"Uh....yup" arrggghhhhh.

"I told you, I told you , I told you this was gonna happen...didn't I????? arrrghhhhh.

"Ohhhhhh I don't need this right now, I gotta go" sniffle sniffle.

"Wait, don't hang up, you need to stop crying, you'll get in an accident, don't hang up, please.... I'll stop" aaargggghhhh.

Later when she got home she was furious..."Why are you so mad" I asked her " because you got caught"?

She didn't know why...she just was.

I am a bit of a back seat driver and a bona fide nag when I'm anywhere but the driver's seat. Slow down, don't tailgate, make sure you stop all the way, watch for that car, watch for that pothole, watch for that, watch for that, watch for that....

"The next time I drive you will be wearing a muzzle" she told me recently after a lengthy road trip.

"I am very tired of your telling me what to do....I am a good driver and I don't have any tickets and so you need to back off, and I mean it"....(feisty little thing this daughter of mine). being the first born child and knowing that all children that come after me (including my own) can and will be subject to my very own personal brand of torture...I really really really badly want to rub it in.

I'd chant "I told you so I told you so I- t- o- l -d -y- o- u -s -ooooooo...."

I'd whisper every chance I got "Smarty pants, you should have listened."

I would sing, "You should have should have l-i-s-t-e-n-ed!"

"Now seeeeee what happened...seeeeee seeeeee what happened".

If I told her once, I’ve told her a hundred and fifty seven times a little red car and a pint sized foot made of lead...don't mix.

She tells me she is going to pay for this ticket. I tell her that her dad and I paid for her brothers when they got a ticket and that she would also be allowed to have one Get Out of Jail Free card...she's digging her heels in on this one..she is going to pay.

I think I finally got to the bottom of the anger...and the determination to pay this ticket herself.

Yesterday she made the comment that she was now a delinquent, a trouble maker...a no good rotten kid.

She forgot to add....tainted, corrupted, and fouled.

This child (she believes) has taken a fall from Grace....

And to pay the ticket herself...she'd still keep her standing as the Good Kid in the family. The Responsible One...the One Most Likely To never break the Bank of Mom and Dad, or their hearts either.

(I want this publicly little girl are perfect in every way, no traffic ticket, not even going 80 in a 70 zone in a little red car talking a mile a minute on your cell phone to Trouble is going to change that. You, my dear, really do walk on water as far as you loving father and I are concerned….

I hope you know that.

Love, Dr Mom...(the armchair psychologist)

Who would have thought that this darling child would grow up to cause this kind of trouble????? If you look closely at this picture you can see her little arm beginning to tighten around the cat's neck. Children that grow up to be delinquent law breakers often start out by hurting small defenseless animals. I should have seen it coming

(Googie your mama loves you...more than life itself)

Friday, October 23, 2009

Sweet child o' mine.......

"Were you in my room last night mom?"

"Only to kiss you good night darling."

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

I wanna hold your hand.....

Tomorrow is the day they take the little spot of the BIG C off of Daddio’s darling handsome face. I know he's very worried, he hasn’t said so much, but I can tell by how he is acting that he is stressed.

I have been bugging him for over 20 years to let me go with him when he exercises. He either rides his bike or he takes looooooooong walks (like over 6 miles). And he walks really fast. Since I don't like to sweat and I am rather wimpy when it comes to most things physical he usually says to my pleas to join him "hell no, you’ll never be able to keep up, go play on your computer or call your sister", but the last three nights he's invited me to go.

Last night he almost left without me; I was taking too long to get ready. I had to dig out my shoes, pee, find some gloves and my earmuffs (never mind that it was almost 60 degrees, a girl has got to be prepared), put on a hoody, then a coat, and then I peed again. I started getting warm after going pee for the third time and had to ask him to wait, just one more sec for me to take off the hoody.

“Too many layers” I explained when he rolled his eyes.

I hesitated before walking out the door; Daddio noticed and asked “What?”

“I may have to go pee one more time” I answered.

I knew he was trying to prove a point (that I can't keep up) when he started off toward a path that I know to be long and treacherous…I didn’t say a word. Not even one. I just walked.

He is getting used to me being next to him. We don’t talk much while we walk, Daddio because he just doesn’t talk much, and me because I know I need to stockpile my air since I have no clue how far he is going to make me walk.

Before long I’m sniffling, and I’m unprepared, I rifle through my coat pocket and come up empty handed…no tissues, no gum wrapper, nothing, not even a tiny ball of lint.

Daddio notices me sniffling and when I say “Oh man, I may have to shoot off one of those snot rockets the kids are always talking about”.

He reached in his pocket and fished out a tissue, “I figured you’d need one, either to wipe your nose, or your butt, in case you had to pee again”.

I was impressed that he thought of me.

He took us on a very dark path, where there are no street lights or even any houses.

He stopped abruptly and whispered “can you see all those deer?”

The guy must have eyes like a cat, because I couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black.

I was scared and I reached for Daddio’s hand. He let me grab it and hold it for a long time. He usually isn’t one for public displays of affection, but it was pitch black and nobody was there to see him do it.

I knew Daddio was worried too when he said things like “I hope there’s not a big buck in that herd” and “Next time we need to bring a flash light so we can see what’s coming at us”.

When we finally got to a path with some light, both our cell phones start ringing. We each had a son calling. Of course the calls came with some drama. Not too much, but enough for us both to be kind of irritated.

“Next time we leave the phones home” Daddio said with a laugh.

Next time? (WOW, yes next time).

We walked on and when we got near to our house Daddio said “I think you may soon be ready for the big one” meaning one of his big long over 6 miles walk.

Lying in bed last night I got to thinking about our walk.

Our lives are a lot like that journey.

With 100% percent certainty I can say that there are going to be many more times that I keep him waiting. And that I will be unprepared and struggle to keep up with him. (I will always be grateful that he anticipates my needs; today I would have been mortified at having to launch a snot rocket in front of him).

I will say that for sure the kids are going to cause a fair amount of drama and stress in our lives, but probably not so awful that we can’t later laugh about it,

And as sure as the sun is to shine I know that when it’s dark and scary in our little world there will be a strong, loving, comforting hand always within each other’s reach.

Say a little prayer for Daddio today.

(A little PDA, notice the hands)

Monday, October 19, 2009

Sleepin double in a single bed......

Daddio is a huge fan of old television shows. He references them often, so when he suggested the other day that we get seperate twin beds to sleep in like Lucy and Ricky Ricardo had, I just shook my head.

“My grandparents slept ass to ass for 52 years and you and I are going to sleep ass to ass for as long as we are together too.”

“I don’t think it’s good for married people to sleep apart” I told him

“Lisa and Oliver Douglas (Green Acres) slept in the same bed and Archie and Edith Bunker did too". 

“Exactly! And both those guys are crabby bastards.”

"I wanna be like Ricky Ricardo.....playing my guitar and singing Babalu, life doesn't get much better than that. And it's all because the guy gets a good nights sleep. He doesn't have to put up with anybody tossing and turning, getting in and out of bed"

"Just a guy and his pillow"..... Daddio said wistfully

The words to Babalu…..(I’m going to have a field day with this one).


Great Babalu!

I'm so lost and forsaken.

Ah, great Babalu!

Bring back the love you've taken.

You can restore all the dreams that once were mine

If only you'll use some mystic sign.

Ah! Great Babalu!

Bring her back to me.


I think I may have found a single bed for Daddio...looks like his guitar could fit under it too.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Just whistle a happy tune....

I get feeling like I have a big pit in my stomach around this time of year...Today is October 17 and that means that today is the anniversary of my brother's death, the 21st anniversary :-( 

So much has happened in the last 21 years...very sad he had to miss it all. Although, some would say, he is livin it up up there and that we are the ones that are missin out.

I could feel myself starting to take a non productive jaunt over to Funkytown and thought that maybe I could dance a jig or whistle a happy tune, something, anything to postpone or avoid that trip altogether.

I suck at whistling and I pee my pants every time I cut a rug so I had to take a different route.

I started to laugh and my mood changed immediately when a funny memory came to mind....

My brother was such a pig (as in eat up all the food the second mom brought it into the house from the grocery store) that my sister and I thought we would fix him good.

We took out a huge pile of Oreo's from the bag and unscrewed them...we scraped off all the cream filling of two of them and replaced it with a dollop of horseradish, white, thick hot hot hot horseradish, stuck them back together and then placed them back into the bag.

We lay in wait (actually, we sat on the couch and tried to look nonchalant) for our victim. I could hardly contain myself ( when doing devious things, I have a giggle problem) anyway, the big clod came in and grabbed his 20 oz glass of milk and half the bag of cookies (oink) and sat down to watch tv....cookie after cookie he dipped and ate in one bite...I was salivating, just waiting for him to get to one of the stashed cookies.

Finally it happened...dip, gobble...GAG.....hahahahahhahahahahhhaahahh SPIT hhahahahahhaha

My fanny was in some hot water when Porky spit black all over our mother's carpeting.

My hysterics (and the stomach ache I got from laughing so hard) were totally worth it.

PS...John, if you have computers in Heaven (which knowing how techno savvy you always were, I am betting that you do) and are reading this..I miss ya, I love ya and I'm still not sorry about the Oreos..Till we meet again little bro.... xoxoxoxo Beth

 Mom, if you are wondering what was in that lil coffee pot just ask Susan...(it was all her idea)

Thursday, October 15, 2009

For every pot......

there is a lid,

I think Googie has located hers.

Monday, October 12, 2009

My lover boy has a girlfriend........

Well girls, looks like I’ve lost another one. My sweet baby boy has a girlfriend, and it sounds kinda serious like. He gets all spiffed up and asks to borrow his dad’s car (he must think she's too good to drive in his hoopty, an old Chrysler LHS which he calls “The Dragon“).

He looks all dewy eyed when he talks about her. And tells me silly things her mother says when she teases him.

He’s asked to buy two tickets to the prom.

I asked him lots of questions about her like when do I get to meet her?…This is a question I’ve never asked him before, since before her, I was his only long term girlfriend.

“Maybe tomorrow” he says trying to run out the door so he can go visit her.

“What does she look like?” I persist, wanting him to change his mind and stay home with me. “Brown hair and eyes, like me?” I tease.

‘She’s a blond and her eyes are light too”, he laughs and shakes his head.

“How do you know what color her eyes are, why are you that close to her?” I continue to rib the poor kid.

“I just know what color her eyes are and besides, when were makin out her eyes are closed", the brat gets me one back.

“You just remember who is your only one true love and don’t be gone too long” I get a little dewy eyed myself cause I know he has to go.

He kisses me on the forehead and out the door he goes…..

I hate a cheatin man.

(Sniffle sniffle......thanks for listening.)

This post was written last May....and the romance continues.

I can't help but like this wonderful young miss who seems to put some real serious pep in my boy's step.

Homecoming this past weekend.....

Friday, October 9, 2009

It’s not easy being green….

I’ve been following a couple of blogging sisters. They are both delightful and talented writers.

The younger of the two sisters survived a near deadly plane crash. She was in a coma for three months.

This mother of four fought back long and hard in an attempt to live the life she had imagined for herself and her children in spite of her life changing injuries.

She was featured on Oprah the other day.

The survivor’s family was on the show too, via satellite, and the older sister had a few seconds to comment.

The two most recent entries that the older sister has posted to her blog (since the Oprah airing) are reeking of green envy.

The blogger tells a story of being weepy and on edge one day and acting like a brat (even though a very grown woman) with her mother the next day.

I’m great at smelling between the lines and I smell jelly-azz, (Now I’m not an official mind reader or anything, but I do have a really good nose).

I feel bad for this big sister…she is probably incredibly jealous that her sister gets to be on Oprah…(and who in the hell wouldn’t be???).

I don’t only smell jealousy….I also smell shame.

She is ashamed that she is jealous that her sister got to be on Oprah.

Because she had to be burned up, and lose her pretty face and her pretty life in order to be invited.

I would love to write an email to this poor older sister and tell her that I understand what she’s going through.

You see, when I was 12, my sister had the good fortune of suffering an attack of appendicitis and the lucky girl got to have surgery and have her appendix taken out.

(I was worried sick that she would die during her operation. She’d never been away from home without me. I missed her being underfoot while she recuperated in the hospital after the surgery.)

(Once she was out of the woods…things started turning ugly.)

The brat had all kinds of people bringing her presents and cards and money to the hospital.

Family and friends visited the house and showered her with sympathy and Get Well Soon balloons.

I wished and I prayed for some kind of disease or illness that would allow me this same treatment.

As my poor luck would have it….I remained healthy and whole.

In my sent email I would tell that older sister that she has done a remarkable job with helping to raise her sister’s children while that sister was sleeping for three months. I would tell her that she looked beautiful and smart on Oprah. I would tell her that she shouldn’t feel ashamed that she may feel a pang or two of jealousy that her sister got to sit on Oprah’s couch….near enough to smell her perfume and be up close and personal with her Jimmy Choo shoes.

Sisters share such a unique bond.

Your sister is out of the woods now… can go back to (a new) normal.

I getcha big sister…..that rotten little up stager got to sit next to Oprah....I'd be crabby too.

Susan (when she still had her appendix) and me.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

May every person......

who crosses your path today have this opinion of you.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

I truly hope this kid never asks me for something I shouldn't be giving him....I'd be hard pressed to say no.

Just in time..........

I share a characteristic with a silk tulip, a milkbone, and the Mona Lisa painting....we all have the exact same attention span.

I'm shamed when one of my kids grabs my face and looks deep into my eyes and says "stay with me ma" or "I need you to concentrate here"......

Just this past Thursday one of them did just that.

"Ma, I need you to remember to pay my Pay to Play fee at school. If it's not paid by tomorrow at 3 I can't play the game".

About a minute later, while I was playing working on my computer he yelled up the stairs "Mooooooooom what do you have to do for me today?"

"Okay dumbass sweetheart..., I won't forget" I yelled back.

When the last of the troops had shut the front door I came out of hiding downstairs to start watching tv my cleaning.

I had to laugh when I looked around the house..... PAY 2 PLAY reminder notes were EVERYWHERE!

The kid had my every move down and slathered with reminder notes.

I removed all the evidence so Daddio wouldn't have a field day rubbing it in that I am a total and complete f-up screwup when it comes to remembering things.

Two thirty rolled around and I found myself buried deep in a game of Bejeweled 2 paying bills on the computer.

My growling stomach brought my computer work to a halt and I went to grab a little snack.

HOLY SHIT SMOKES!!!!!!......It was 2:45 and I had forgotten to pay the fee.....

I don't think it's proper to thank God for stupid things like choosing to snack on a pickle instead of a handful of Cheetos making me see the reminder note or for keeping all the cops busy that usually patrol the sidestreet that I sped on to get to the school on time....he's busy taking care of real problems.

"Did you remember to pay" the kid asked when he got home.

"Thank God" he replied when I said "yes".