A couple times a year while running into a grocery store or maybe the bank I find myself passing a man with a bucket, or a can.
Usually he's an older gentleman, decked out in a decorated uniform.
Colorful stripes and medals, whose meanings I don't pretend to know.
Sometimes he's old and feeble and stands supported by an old cane, other times he's sitting in a wheelchair.
I toss a handful of change into his container.
"Thank you miss" or "God bless you for your contribution" the man says as I pass him by.
I make my way to my car and along the way I pat myself on the back for my generosity.
Once, a few years ago I sent my step dad Papa G a message it was for either Veteran's or Memorial day, I can't remember which now, anyway... I thanked him for his service to our country.
Not only was he in the military, but he also served as a US Marshall for almost 30 years.
That's a lifetime of devotion to one's country.
My country, our country.
My step dad wrote back that he can count on one hand the number of times someone has thanked him for his service to this country.
Really? How sad.
He told me how touched he was by my gesture.
I don't just toss in a handful of coins anymore.
That is not enough.
THAT IS NOT ENOUGH!!!!
Now after the old Vet thanks me for my pitifully tiny contribution to his cause I take a moment and look into his eyes, I offer my hand and I say "IT IS YOU SIR THAT DESERVES TO BE THANKED!!!...THANK YOU SIR".
It never fails to bring a surprised smile to their face and often a tear to their eye.
What is Memorial Day? A quote found online says "A day to remember and honor those that serve, those that have served, those that have gone to rest in service, and any person serving another as an act of duty, unconditional love, devotion and obligation"
So in honor of Memorial Day I'm going to thank a few of my favorite Veterans (and the brave young men in my life that soon will leave to serve our military) for their past, present and future service to our country
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU Papa G, Uncle John, Uncle Dan, Uncle Clarence, Donnie, Tony, Chad, Bretton, Matt, Phil, Jake...may God continue to keep you safe and may you always know that your past, present, future contributions and sacrifices to this country are very much appreciated.
If you would like to send some Memorial Day wishes or thoughts to a Veteran please leave a comment or two on this blog...I promise to pass them on.
It's the very least we can do....
Merci.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Not yet....
Another Saturday Centus, a themed writing meme. The challenge is to write 100 words to add to the prompt started by Jenny Matlock from off on my tangent.
The writing prompt is in itallics....
It’d been so long since she’d seen him.
When he reached for her hand the pain of years separated melted away.
“I’ve missed you” Daddy said spinning her around “ Look at you, all grown up and pretty as ever”.
She closed her eyes tight, it felt wonderful to be with him again.
A booming voice startled her eyes open.
“May I help you, miss? You look puzzled.”
“Mmmm… thank you, I’m just looking for my father. We came in together a moment ago, but he seems to have wandered off.”
A confused Missy told the bearded man dressed in white.
“MISSY, MISSY!!! Come on honey ” another voice called.
The flat line on the screen came roaring back to life.
Bleep... bleep... bleep....
And Dr. Jonah Simpson felt again Godlike.
Friday, May 28, 2010
I dropped a bomb and the ball....
Two days ago in my culinary class I had the loveables making cake cookies...we do this often, they're cheap and easy to make.
Most times we use an ice cream scooper to make really large cookies...they are baked in a professional convection oven.
Stressing the importance of having the cookies be uniform in size I suggested to one of the loveables that since he didn't have enough dough left to make another cookie that he should divide what he had left and add it to any of his other cookies that might be "needy"..."add it to the deserving cookies" I teased.
He proceeded to go to each cookie and comment...
"You are stupid" he said to one.
"You are ugly" he said to another.
"You are too fat already" he said to a third.
"You are black" he said to the fourth.
I was stunned silent.
I hoped his stupid comment went past my African American co-worker.
There were four staff around that large table and not a damn one of us said one word.
But I'm positive we all heard it...there was no way we didn't.
This incident took me back to something that happened to me in high school...I was in ninth grade and had a wonderful friend named Jackie.
My high school was mixed (I won't say diverse, because we weren't)..we were mixed.
There were the blacks and there were the whites.
And once in a while we mixed.
I'm Caucasian and Jackie is African American.
Back then we called ourselves White and Black.
Jackie was a tall, leggy beautiful girl.
And she was funny as hell.
We talked every day at school and often on the phone.
One day I was telling her a funny story and in the middle of it I said the "N" word...it slipped out of my mouth and before I could catch it, it landed in the middle of Jackie's and my friendship.
Like a lead balloon.
I pretended like I didn't say it.
Jackie pretended like she didn't hear it.
But our friendship was never the same.
So I stand some 30 years later around a work table with a couple of punks and the adults placed in charge of them and I pretend that the elephant in the room is not there.
I should have told the punk to shut the hell up. I should have yanked his dumb ass out of the room and told him how stupid and ignorant what he said was.
I should have done something, anything.
Instead, I let it melt and slip through the cracks and slide it's slimy slithery self onto the floor and out of the room.
It's destruction, though mighty, was silent.
Just like the bomb I dropped so long ago.
Shame on me, times two..... :-(
Most times we use an ice cream scooper to make really large cookies...they are baked in a professional convection oven.
Stressing the importance of having the cookies be uniform in size I suggested to one of the loveables that since he didn't have enough dough left to make another cookie that he should divide what he had left and add it to any of his other cookies that might be "needy"..."add it to the deserving cookies" I teased.
He proceeded to go to each cookie and comment...
"You are stupid" he said to one.
"You are ugly" he said to another.
"You are too fat already" he said to a third.
"You are black" he said to the fourth.
I was stunned silent.
I hoped his stupid comment went past my African American co-worker.
There were four staff around that large table and not a damn one of us said one word.
But I'm positive we all heard it...there was no way we didn't.
This incident took me back to something that happened to me in high school...I was in ninth grade and had a wonderful friend named Jackie.
My high school was mixed (I won't say diverse, because we weren't)..we were mixed.
There were the blacks and there were the whites.
And once in a while we mixed.
I'm Caucasian and Jackie is African American.
Back then we called ourselves White and Black.
Jackie was a tall, leggy beautiful girl.
And she was funny as hell.
We talked every day at school and often on the phone.
One day I was telling her a funny story and in the middle of it I said the "N" word...it slipped out of my mouth and before I could catch it, it landed in the middle of Jackie's and my friendship.
Like a lead balloon.
I pretended like I didn't say it.
Jackie pretended like she didn't hear it.
But our friendship was never the same.
So I stand some 30 years later around a work table with a couple of punks and the adults placed in charge of them and I pretend that the elephant in the room is not there.
I should have told the punk to shut the hell up. I should have yanked his dumb ass out of the room and told him how stupid and ignorant what he said was.
I should have done something, anything.
Instead, I let it melt and slip through the cracks and slide it's slimy slithery self onto the floor and out of the room.
It's destruction, though mighty, was silent.
Just like the bomb I dropped so long ago.
Shame on me, times two..... :-(
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
"Here kitty kitty......"
Since I've been a little girl I've known it is going to happen.
I could (and can) feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my (chipped) toe(nail)s.
And everywhere in-between.
It is going to happen.
(I'm taking a page from the SECRET theory...ask the universe for it, be convinced that you are gonna get it, and it will happen).
So, as often as I can, I sneak to the Treasure Store and actively search for my destiny.
Into the jewelry case I peer...
Are you here?
Next, to the furniture department to look over old stained Lazyboy chairs and odd misshapen book cases with bad paint jobs....
Are you here??
The shelves of knick knacks takes me the longest...there are so many.
Ashtrays, cheap ceramic statues and squat, clear glass candle holders litter the shelves.
You are not here....
I sort through salt and pepper shaker sets and the old dinner plates.
I see chipped china and shot glasses a plenty...
Are you here???
Half an aisle of baskets, mostly junk.
No, you aren't here.
Ohhhh, wait a minute...now this looks interesting.
I could (and can) feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my (chipped) toe(nail)s.
And everywhere in-between.
It is going to happen.
(I'm taking a page from the SECRET theory...ask the universe for it, be convinced that you are gonna get it, and it will happen).
So, as often as I can, I sneak to the Treasure Store and actively search for my destiny.
Into the jewelry case I peer...
Are you here?
Next, to the furniture department to look over old stained Lazyboy chairs and odd misshapen book cases with bad paint jobs....
Are you here??
The shelves of knick knacks takes me the longest...there are so many.
Ashtrays, cheap ceramic statues and squat, clear glass candle holders litter the shelves.
You are not here....
I sort through salt and pepper shaker sets and the old dinner plates.
I see chipped china and shot glasses a plenty...
Are you here???
Half an aisle of baskets, mostly junk.
No, you aren't here.
Ohhhh, wait a minute...now this looks interesting.
Etain Zinn Pewter candlestick holders...not bad at $3.99 for the pair.
Still not "The Kitty"....but I know I'm gonna find one.
I just know it.
(And in the meantime, I need to find a good hiding place for these...Daddio can sniff out treasures from the Treasure Store like a dog after a peanut butter filled plastic bone.
He swears that soon he is going to clean house and take my all my treasures back to the Salvation Army...where he is convinced I will just buy them back again.)
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Dr Laura is a bit like black licorice ...either you love her or you hate her.
When I was a full time stay at home mom I listened faithfully to Dr Laura Schlessinger, and I liked a lot of what she had to say.
Often I thought that she was way too hard on some of her callers, but what she said did make a lot of sense to me.
Sometimes though she was just plain rude and I wondered how she had so many people calling,when all of us in the listening audience, knew the caller was going to take a beating.
Over the years she's received some really bad press because of her opinionated stands.
Here are some of her recent blog titles:
Academic problems occur more often in step-families.
My DNA made me do it (young men being genetically prone to violence).
Military training good for American youth.
She stands firm that mothers should be home with small children and not working on anything other than raising those children.
Although, stay at home dads, Dr Laura says, are okay with older kids.
She feels strongly that mothers should place their dreams on hold when they have children to care for.
She is all for going back to school or whatever it is you want to do after your job of mothering is done.
She does not believe in shacking up (living together before marriage).
She believes that parents should stay married for the sake of their children, although she will be the first to say to a woman *hit the road * when you have an abuser, (physical, drug, alcohol) or a philanderer for a husband.
She then advises the newly single mommy to move close to or in with her parents to get some help raising the kids.
I totally agree with her philosophy in her book The Care and Feeding of Husbands.
Treat your husband like a King and he will treat you like a Queen.
Lately though, I think I've become the woman Dr Laura complains about...the one who gives too much to her work and her own interests and who comes home too tired and worn out to take good care of their family.
I know my kids are quite grown, and it doesn't hurt them to fend for themselves... but I'm finding that old habits die hard.
And when I think of Dr Laura and how she says I should be treating my family, well, I'm kinda falling not just short...but totally flat.
I've gotten selfish and often place myself first.
I still think it's a Cardinal sin to eat cereal for dinner, but I'm shedding no tears when we eat soup and sandwiches in place of four course meals these days.
And instead of sitting at Daddio's feet (massaging for all I'm worth), staring at a basketball game with my mind a million miles away I'm online reading blogs and playing catch up with my 454 pieces of email.
A hour or two here and there I even sometimes play free online games, I've gotten pretty good at shooting those colored balls in groups of three or more.
Yesterday I got an email from Dr. Laura's camp advertising a subject that she was going to be tackling.
It had to do with blogs.
Here is the blurb... She had been communicating with family on a private blog. She was shocked that I told her to shut down the blog. But then, 24 hours later....... Find out what she has to say, tonight at 11pm on...
Dumdumdumdum.....
I fell asleep and missed it, darn it.
On second thought... that may have been a good thing.
I wonder lately if I could just coast for awhile on my past successes?
All those tender pot roast dinners and that perfectly filled linen closet.
My sparkling toilets and dusted mouldings.
How bout all those hours spent on school projects and ball games and plays and yummy cupcakes for a class of 36?
Foot rubs and back rubs and all the other things I did that spoke loud and clear to my family.. "you are first."
Just like black licorice is bad for my colitis, so may Dr Laura be for my soul.
I don't like her implications that "you are not enough"...my own voice saying it is bad enough.
Often I thought that she was way too hard on some of her callers, but what she said did make a lot of sense to me.
Sometimes though she was just plain rude and I wondered how she had so many people calling,when all of us in the listening audience, knew the caller was going to take a beating.
Over the years she's received some really bad press because of her opinionated stands.
Here are some of her recent blog titles:
Academic problems occur more often in step-families.
My DNA made me do it (young men being genetically prone to violence).
Military training good for American youth.
She stands firm that mothers should be home with small children and not working on anything other than raising those children.
Although, stay at home dads, Dr Laura says, are okay with older kids.
She feels strongly that mothers should place their dreams on hold when they have children to care for.
She is all for going back to school or whatever it is you want to do after your job of mothering is done.
She does not believe in shacking up (living together before marriage).
She believes that parents should stay married for the sake of their children, although she will be the first to say to a woman *hit the road * when you have an abuser, (physical, drug, alcohol) or a philanderer for a husband.
She then advises the newly single mommy to move close to or in with her parents to get some help raising the kids.
I totally agree with her philosophy in her book The Care and Feeding of Husbands.
Treat your husband like a King and he will treat you like a Queen.
Lately though, I think I've become the woman Dr Laura complains about...the one who gives too much to her work and her own interests and who comes home too tired and worn out to take good care of their family.
I know my kids are quite grown, and it doesn't hurt them to fend for themselves... but I'm finding that old habits die hard.
And when I think of Dr Laura and how she says I should be treating my family, well, I'm kinda falling not just short...but totally flat.
I've gotten selfish and often place myself first.
I still think it's a Cardinal sin to eat cereal for dinner, but I'm shedding no tears when we eat soup and sandwiches in place of four course meals these days.
And instead of sitting at Daddio's feet (massaging for all I'm worth), staring at a basketball game with my mind a million miles away I'm online reading blogs and playing catch up with my 454 pieces of email.
A hour or two here and there I even sometimes play free online games, I've gotten pretty good at shooting those colored balls in groups of three or more.
Yesterday I got an email from Dr. Laura's camp advertising a subject that she was going to be tackling.
It had to do with blogs.
Here is the blurb... She had been communicating with family on a private blog. She was shocked that I told her to shut down the blog. But then, 24 hours later....... Find out what she has to say, tonight at 11pm on...
Dumdumdumdum.....
I fell asleep and missed it, darn it.
On second thought... that may have been a good thing.
I wonder lately if I could just coast for awhile on my past successes?
All those tender pot roast dinners and that perfectly filled linen closet.
My sparkling toilets and dusted mouldings.
How bout all those hours spent on school projects and ball games and plays and yummy cupcakes for a class of 36?
Foot rubs and back rubs and all the other things I did that spoke loud and clear to my family.. "you are first."
Just like black licorice is bad for my colitis, so may Dr Laura be for my soul.
I don't like her implications that "you are not enough"...my own voice saying it is bad enough.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Secrets, lies, and a damn good coffee cake....
I went to a meeting this past Friday morning. It was a steering committee meeting. (lots of e's in that sentence)...I'll explain soon what this steering committee is all about.
In the meantime suffice it to say that Beth Gump has been invited to be a member, WHY she has been invited is one of the great mysteries of her life....HOW she can pretend to fit in, may be another.
Secrets.....
I pass this sign every day on my way to work. It used to identify a busy, bustling with life hospital which is no more...a victim of this crappy economy.
The parking lot, long untended is getting weed filled and littered with bits of trash.
But the sign gives me a feeling of hope and optimism.
GOD BLESS AMERICA....a surprising, unexpected, beautiful message in a dreary cold moment in time.
Kind of like a rose in December.
1. Baby's got back.
2. Yoga pants look good on everyone.
3. The family curse of "no butt" aka "pancake ass" has (thankfully) passed Googie by.
4. It's a sin to burn perfectly good clothing.
(Disclaimer...Googie does have back. This is how she looks every week when she's bringing her sleeping quarters up to white glove perfect.)
A few short weeks from now I will be perfectly fine sitting in a stuffy high school gym high in the bleachers watching as my last baby walks across a decorated stage and accepts his diploma.
I won't tear up or embarrass anybody by crying my heart out. Big, gulping, body racking sobs won't cause those around me to squirm (or Daddio to threaten to pop me one in the nose), no I won't do that ...at least not out loud I won't.
I know I mentioned something in the title of this post about a damn good coffee cake...not only did I leave the recipe at work, but I'm sitting here over my keyboard with leaking eyes and a boogery nose soooo I must excuse myself quick like and find some Kleenex.
Please, come tomorrow back for that recipe and a virtual bite.
And have yourself a merry little Monday....(i really really hate mondays).
In the meantime suffice it to say that Beth Gump has been invited to be a member, WHY she has been invited is one of the great mysteries of her life....HOW she can pretend to fit in, may be another.
Secrets.....
I hope this young woman hangs around for a long time. She makes my boy a better person (which is saying a lot since I already think the kid is the shit).
I pass this sign every day on my way to work. It used to identify a busy, bustling with life hospital which is no more...a victim of this crappy economy.
The parking lot, long untended is getting weed filled and littered with bits of trash.
But the sign gives me a feeling of hope and optimism.
GOD BLESS AMERICA....a surprising, unexpected, beautiful message in a dreary cold moment in time.
Kind of like a rose in December.
Lies.....
2. Yoga pants look good on everyone.
3. The family curse of "no butt" aka "pancake ass" has (thankfully) passed Googie by.
4. It's a sin to burn perfectly good clothing.
(Disclaimer...Googie does have back. This is how she looks every week when she's bringing her sleeping quarters up to white glove perfect.)
A few short weeks from now I will be perfectly fine sitting in a stuffy high school gym high in the bleachers watching as my last baby walks across a decorated stage and accepts his diploma.
I won't tear up or embarrass anybody by crying my heart out. Big, gulping, body racking sobs won't cause those around me to squirm (or Daddio to threaten to pop me one in the nose), no I won't do that ...at least not out loud I won't.
Photo by Kathleen Foulkrod of Heartstrings Photography
I know I mentioned something in the title of this post about a damn good coffee cake...not only did I leave the recipe at work, but I'm sitting here over my keyboard with leaking eyes and a boogery nose soooo I must excuse myself quick like and find some Kleenex.
Please, come tomorrow back for that recipe and a virtual bite.
And have yourself a merry little Monday....(i really really hate mondays).
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Oh black water.....
Another Saturday Centus, a themed writing meme. The challenge is to write 100 words to add to the prompt started by Jenny Matlock from off on my tangent.
The writing prompt is in itallics....
I look back over my shoulder, squinting into the late afternoon sun, gawking with stunned alarm at the broad rolling muddy waters of the Mississippi.
Thick black smelly water begins to fill the car from the bottom up, giving me just a moment to ponder my decision to take the powerful candy apple red sports car that wasn’t mine and speed down an unknown path toward an ending that wouldn’t surprise anyone. The cops would surely be in big, big trouble for chasing me. I always knew I’d pay them back somehow.
The writing prompt is in itallics....
I look back over my shoulder, squinting into the late afternoon sun, gawking with stunned alarm at the broad rolling muddy waters of the Mississippi.
Thick black smelly water begins to fill the car from the bottom up, giving me just a moment to ponder my decision to take the powerful candy apple red sports car that wasn’t mine and speed down an unknown path toward an ending that wouldn’t surprise anyone. The cops would surely be in big, big trouble for chasing me. I always knew I’d pay them back somehow.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Not like I'm keepin score or anything....
Friday.....what the holy hell took you so long to get here?
What an incredibly loooooooooong week.
I think being sick made it feel even longer.
Being stuck inside a musty old school building for 10 hours on the nicest day of the year so far made it looooooooooger still.
Yesterday, walking into the commercial kitchen where our afternoon culinary arts class is held and smelling the distinct stench of cigarette smoke INSIDE THE WALK IN FREEER made time stand still.
Even with a terrible cold I have the nose of a Blood Hound.
How dare they!!! HOW DARE THEY!!!
PUNKS!!!!!!
I find it totally amusing that they all think the staff came down with yesterday's rain.
Yes sir.... we're dumber than doornails.
The loveables think they're so slick they'll be able to pull crap over on us....and sometimes they do, for about five seconds.
So as my face flushed and my heart raced I reached into my bag of "effective mothering" tricks and techniques and pulled out a doozy.
The GUILT CARD.
Sadly, with droopy eyes and a tear in my voice I told the loveable thugs that I was certain to lose my job over the Smokin in theBoys Room Fridge Mystery.
How hard being jobless would be, especially since my husband was laid off. (sniffle)
That I had every hope that the next lady they brought in to teach them to cook would care about them as much as I did. (sob)
I laid it on pretty thick.
And they bought it.
A few minutes after my little over dramatic monologue the other staff took each loveable aside and asked for information.
Every last one of them...every.... last..... one of them pointed a finger at the guilty kid.
Baby criminals aren't usually singing canaries.
But yesterday this bunch of lightweights were putty in our hands.....(hahahaha).
Juvenile Justice Day Treatment Staff 1
The Loveable Thugs 0
What an incredibly loooooooooong week.
I think being sick made it feel even longer.
Being stuck inside a musty old school building for 10 hours on the nicest day of the year so far made it looooooooooger still.
Yesterday, walking into the commercial kitchen where our afternoon culinary arts class is held and smelling the distinct stench of cigarette smoke INSIDE THE WALK IN FREEER made time stand still.
Even with a terrible cold I have the nose of a Blood Hound.
How dare they!!! HOW DARE THEY!!!
PUNKS!!!!!!
I find it totally amusing that they all think the staff came down with yesterday's rain.
Yes sir.... we're dumber than doornails.
The loveables think they're so slick they'll be able to pull crap over on us....and sometimes they do, for about five seconds.
So as my face flushed and my heart raced I reached into my bag of "effective mothering" tricks and techniques and pulled out a doozy.
The GUILT CARD.
Sadly, with droopy eyes and a tear in my voice I told the loveable thugs that I was certain to lose my job over the Smokin in the
How hard being jobless would be, especially since my husband was laid off. (sniffle)
That I had every hope that the next lady they brought in to teach them to cook would care about them as much as I did. (sob)
I laid it on pretty thick.
And they bought it.
A few minutes after my little over dramatic monologue the other staff took each loveable aside and asked for information.
Every last one of them...every.... last..... one of them pointed a finger at the guilty kid.
Baby criminals aren't usually singing canaries.
But yesterday this bunch of lightweights were putty in our hands.....(hahahaha).
Juvenile Justice Day Treatment Staff 1
The Loveable Thugs 0
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Good eye....
Daddio was lonely the other day and he invited me on a walk.
It was going to be a very long walk to a park about 3 miles from our home...(okay, maybe 2.5 miles, but it felt like 16.5 miles).
I made him wait while I grabbed my camera.
I was hoping my walk would provide lots of cool things for me to capture. Maybe a couple of masterpieces with my lens.
(I have no eye for photography....the above line was wishful typing).
When Daddio walks, he is a man on a mission, and because we were walking so fast I only had time to dribble in my underwear, not fiddle around pulling out a camera.
Until we got to the park, where he offered me a sit on a bench and a small rest.
Just like I thought, the park was full of wonderful things for this Steve Bloom wanna be.
I started with a beautiful serene looking duck that was floating down the lazy river.
I crept to where I thought I could get some good shots.
Shit, I missed.
Again.
My sidekick threw in his two cents "are you not seeing that there is a rythym to the duck going up and down in the water looking for food?" Daddio asked. " He comes up for breath every so many seconds. Can't you snap the picture then?"
(Uh, sure Ed McMahon, thanks)
Ah, I'm starting to get the rythym..the rythym of the dandelions.
The sweet duck, dangerously near the sidewalk (and me).
Some kind of black bird.
And here is a cute little squirrel.
When I got home and reviewed my shots it became very apparent that I need to look to other nature subjects to showcase my "good eye."
Ahhh, finally one I can be proud of.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Hungry?.... Eat!!!
Just a couple of weeks ago I watched, teary eyed, as my Blue Sky marched her pint sized pretty self across a stage and accepted a diploma declaring her a college graduate.
I've written before that she made the road to this moment seem effortless.
Not effortless in that she didn't suffer stomach aches and anxiety over exams and papers or look bleary eyed some mornings after staying up half the night working on homework...effortless in that it seemed like she made a couple of choices, took the proper classes and VOILA!!!.. a Bachelor Degree.
I'm filled to the gills with pride.
But Googie's not.
She's been complaining lately that she simply "settled" on a Major to get her tired butt out of college.
That she got impatient and couldn't bear the thought of being on the five or six years to graduation plan.
So she gathered all her credits, marched into her advisor's office and said "get me out of here".
And while that was an okay decision for the moment, it's left her hungry.
Hungry for more than she feels she's settled for.
I think I'm correct in saying that the hunger has always been there, she just hid it well.
Or pretended it wasn't there???
The other day Googie told me that she could return to school and get a second degree in Theater.
"One year, Mom. That's all it would take" she said, using my favorite ear to ear Times Square smile.
In the past few days she's been doing lots of research online and has even become email pen pals with a Tony Award winning actor.
Then she mentioned something about a big audition.
So big that a number of theaters would have casting people there. (These Michigan theater groups are nationally respected and pay with real cash money to those that act on their stages).
She called and asked about a slot to give it her best shot.
All filled up...sorry, they told her.
She prepared anyway.
She asked Trouble to take a couple of good head shots and she practiced a monologue.
She then drove, alone, to the audition site many miles from our home.
She didn't take her crooked mother's advice to pretend that she did have a slot and that somebody must have screwed up and forgotten to write her name down. (You know those damn stage mothers they'll say or do any-thing to get their kid's foot in a door).
Her "Motherrrrr!!!!!!!" was enough to tell me she'd do it her own way.
The right way.
She walked in and told them that she didn't have an appointment but was hoping that she would be allowed to audition.
She called to tell me that they'd let her.
And when she did, she made them laugh.
(Well of course you did darlin!!!)
She felt like she did well.
She doesn't know if they can use her for anything...but hey, she gave them some good food for thought.
Sweetheart, like the song says, I hope you 'always keep that hunger'.
I love you GOOOOOOGIE, you make my heart sing.
I've written before that she made the road to this moment seem effortless.
Not effortless in that she didn't suffer stomach aches and anxiety over exams and papers or look bleary eyed some mornings after staying up half the night working on homework...effortless in that it seemed like she made a couple of choices, took the proper classes and VOILA!!!.. a Bachelor Degree.
I'm filled to the gills with pride.
But Googie's not.
She's been complaining lately that she simply "settled" on a Major to get her tired butt out of college.
That she got impatient and couldn't bear the thought of being on the five or six years to graduation plan.
So she gathered all her credits, marched into her advisor's office and said "get me out of here".
And while that was an okay decision for the moment, it's left her hungry.
Hungry for more than she feels she's settled for.
I think I'm correct in saying that the hunger has always been there, she just hid it well.
Or pretended it wasn't there???
The other day Googie told me that she could return to school and get a second degree in Theater.
"One year, Mom. That's all it would take" she said, using my favorite ear to ear Times Square smile.
In the past few days she's been doing lots of research online and has even become email pen pals with a Tony Award winning actor.
Then she mentioned something about a big audition.
So big that a number of theaters would have casting people there. (These Michigan theater groups are nationally respected and pay with real cash money to those that act on their stages).
She called and asked about a slot to give it her best shot.
All filled up...sorry, they told her.
She prepared anyway.
She asked Trouble to take a couple of good head shots and she practiced a monologue.
She then drove, alone, to the audition site many miles from our home.
She didn't take her crooked mother's advice to pretend that she did have a slot and that somebody must have screwed up and forgotten to write her name down. (You know those damn stage mothers they'll say or do any-thing to get their kid's foot in a door).
Her "Motherrrrr!!!!!!!" was enough to tell me she'd do it her own way.
The right way.
She walked in and told them that she didn't have an appointment but was hoping that she would be allowed to audition.
She called to tell me that they'd let her.
And when she did, she made them laugh.
(Well of course you did darlin!!!)
She felt like she did well.
She doesn't know if they can use her for anything...but hey, she gave them some good food for thought.
Sweetheart, like the song says, I hope you 'always keep that hunger'.
I love you GOOOOOOGIE, you make my heart sing.
Googie on Times Square with her ear to ear smile.
She hates this picture, but it shows how her face looked the entire time we were in New York.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
A job for a good daddy.....
I've caught a cold.
And as Daddio would certainly tell you, (if you cared to listen) I could brave an appendectomy sans anesthesia better and with less complaining than I do a cold.
I start fall to pieces at the slightest twinge of a sore throat or one too many sneezes.
I caught this cold from one of two places.
Marmie (my darling mother) was sick and sounding like a slightly feminine man when we spoke numerous times last week.
As much as I sometimes think otherwise, germs don't travel 3000 miles over phone lines.
So it must have come from the other source, one of my lovables.
One of the youth in my work program came in sicker than a dog last week.
Sneezing, sniffling, coughing....
"I caught it from my baby girl" he confessed.
"Ya gotta stop kissin her on the mouth" I told him with a smile.
"I can't" he said " I can't stop she is sooooo cute and her cheeks are chubby. Every time I'm near her I try to eat them off her face. I can't help it. You should see how chubby her cheeks are, soooo chubby and sweet"
He continued, "You know her whole family dogged me and didn't think I'd step up and be there for my girl. I've showed them. I buy her diapers and clothes and I even got her medicine for this bad cold."
Oh well, I can't really complain about catching a cold from a juvenile offender who has admitted to being a kind of father to his baby girl that every daughter should have...one who smothers her with love and kisses, diapers and clothes and calls her fat cheeks the sweetest things he's ever seen.
And as Daddio would certainly tell you, (if you cared to listen) I could brave an appendectomy sans anesthesia better and with less complaining than I do a cold.
I start fall to pieces at the slightest twinge of a sore throat or one too many sneezes.
I caught this cold from one of two places.
Marmie (my darling mother) was sick and sounding like a slightly feminine man when we spoke numerous times last week.
As much as I sometimes think otherwise, germs don't travel 3000 miles over phone lines.
So it must have come from the other source, one of my lovables.
One of the youth in my work program came in sicker than a dog last week.
Sneezing, sniffling, coughing....
"I caught it from my baby girl" he confessed.
"Ya gotta stop kissin her on the mouth" I told him with a smile.
"I can't" he said " I can't stop she is sooooo cute and her cheeks are chubby. Every time I'm near her I try to eat them off her face. I can't help it. You should see how chubby her cheeks are, soooo chubby and sweet"
He continued, "You know her whole family dogged me and didn't think I'd step up and be there for my girl. I've showed them. I buy her diapers and clothes and I even got her medicine for this bad cold."
Oh well, I can't really complain about catching a cold from a juvenile offender who has admitted to being a kind of father to his baby girl that every daughter should have...one who smothers her with love and kisses, diapers and clothes and calls her fat cheeks the sweetest things he's ever seen.
PS...Bob, thanks (and I love you) for paring (nibbling) these mammoth babies down to a normal size ;-)
Monday, May 17, 2010
Forgive me Daddio for I have sinned....
Today after church Daddio offered to take me on my grocery rounds. This usually means a trip to the fruit market and to some kind of large grocery store. I had an awesome coupon for Meijers. One of those use the pharmacy, get twenty bucks off deal, so to Meijers it was.
The place was packed as usual. And I should know better that when poor Daddio starts to complain while still in the parking lot that maybe I should limit my trip to a loaf of bread and some milk.
I poo-pooed my gut warning and stupidly proceeded.
"The walk of the living dead" he growled, barely missing hitting a wide fannied woman wearing dingy white polyester pants and carrying six black garbage bags filled with plastic returnables.
He found a space about a mile from the entrance. "A walk will do us both good" he said in defense of his crappy choice.
I think he does this on purpose, he knows that if I were driving, we'd go round and round and round until one of the first parking spots opened up.
I don't care if it takes thirty minutes to find that perfect spot, and I usually don't realize that I've gone around so many times until I notice my gas gauge starting to go down.
"Mom, I'm getting dizzy" the kids used to say. "Please just pick a spot."
Daddio went for a cart and he didn't even flinch when his mitts grabbed the dirty cart handle.
I shudder to think of all the E.coli he's probably just touched.
Oprah once did a show about E.coli and the places where it can be found.
Believe it or not public toilet seats don't have a ton of microscopic poop on them.
Bowling balls and shopping carts were found to be much worse...yuck
I've not stuck my fingers into a bowling ball since I saw that show.
Unfortunately, I can't say the same about shopping carts. Therefore I'm forced happy to use the sani-wipes the store provides.
Daddio gave me the evil eye as I searched (in vain) for the alcohol wipes.
"Forget it" he barked "I don't need those things."
"You're going to get sick" I warned.
"That's why I have such a superior immune system" Daddio brags "I'm not scared of germs."
Daddio doesn't really understand how aggressive he needs to be to successfully navigate a Meijer store on a Sunday after church.
Trying to be mannerly gets you nowhere besides stuck behind a lady with a coupon filled shoe box, six unruly snotty nosed children and two full carts.
Or an old gray buck carefully studying the entire 129 different varieties of Campbell's soup looking for Mrs. Grass chicken noodle.
Arrghhhh.....
So as Daddio, beginning to look brain dead waits behind the gang, I scurry ahead grabbing items as I go.
Needing to get some tomato sauce for spaghetti I stop at the Hunts sauce and look for the big cans.
Of course, as usual they only have the eight ounce size and all of them seem to be dented.
When he catches up to me Daddio gets perturbed watching me feel out each can trying to find an uninjured few.
"What the hell does it matter?" he asks "just grab a couple."
I'll be sure to remind him of this little exchange a couple of days from now when he is suffering from stomach cramps.
We make it to the check out with me knowing that I certainly have forgotten something...you can't shop properly under that kind of pressure.
I choose a good lane and place our groceries onto the belt. Daddio was in front and didn't know what to do when the cashier passed him one of those grocery separating bars like a baton in a race.
"What?" he asks, holding it in the air "Do I run with this thing?"
When the cashier is almost done ringing our order I see that there is a great possibility that I may be able to use my $6.00 off $60.00 coupon as well.
I started getting giddy.
$26.00 off my grocery order!!!!
When the total hit $60.53 I almost screamed "BINGO", but for Daddio's sake I just stood mute and handed the cashier the coupons.
A little history here, over the years Daddio has gone to the grocery store once, maybe three times by himself. The couple of times that he did was because I was totally unable...I had a day old newborn at home or I was projectile vomiting and had a temperature of 103.
So only when he HAD to, did Daddio ever step foot into a grocery store.
I always gave him coupons and good directions about using them.
The following day I'd find them in a soggy ball at the bottom of the washing machine.
When I handed the blob to Daddio he'd just shrug and say "I forgot."
That was not a truthful statement...Daddio would rather hang by his earlobes than use a coupon. Using one is like asking for charity. Stealing money from the cashier's pocket. Trying to redeem a clam shell from the Great Depression...
He was beyond horrified when the cashier swiped my first coupon and the machine did nothing.
She swiped and swiped.
Without even looking I could feel Daddio pain.
"Buy any alcohol?" she asked.
If we had Daddio would have cracked it open by now and would have been in a much better frame of mind.
"Nope, no alcohol" I answered.
"Ohhhh...it doesn't count your bottle deposits" Miss Cashier finally figured out. "You need to buy something else."
Daddio's embarrassment and the line behind us was growing by the minute.
"Gum!!" I yelled "I'll take some gum."
Since the people behind us in their impatience had invaded our personal space, I couldn't reach the gum display and had to ask the cashier to choose a pack.
The first pack didn't cost enough.
"Okay, two then" I told the cashier who obviously is also a Libra and was having a hard time making a choice for me.
"ANY KIND" I yelled "ANYTHING!!!!"
The second pack didn't do it either.
"Charge me for two eight packs of Pepsi, I'll run back and get another." I suggested.
Finally, the machine took the coupons.
I sent Daddio and the other groceries to the car and I ran to the back to get my extra eight pack of pop.
It was a long walk which gave me plenty of time to plan my defense.
I was mighty tempted to ask the cashier for that baton and directions to the nearest exit.
The place was packed as usual. And I should know better that when poor Daddio starts to complain while still in the parking lot that maybe I should limit my trip to a loaf of bread and some milk.
I poo-pooed my gut warning and stupidly proceeded.
"The walk of the living dead" he growled, barely missing hitting a wide fannied woman wearing dingy white polyester pants and carrying six black garbage bags filled with plastic returnables.
He found a space about a mile from the entrance. "A walk will do us both good" he said in defense of his crappy choice.
I think he does this on purpose, he knows that if I were driving, we'd go round and round and round until one of the first parking spots opened up.
I don't care if it takes thirty minutes to find that perfect spot, and I usually don't realize that I've gone around so many times until I notice my gas gauge starting to go down.
"Mom, I'm getting dizzy" the kids used to say. "Please just pick a spot."
Daddio went for a cart and he didn't even flinch when his mitts grabbed the dirty cart handle.
I shudder to think of all the E.coli he's probably just touched.
Oprah once did a show about E.coli and the places where it can be found.
Believe it or not public toilet seats don't have a ton of microscopic poop on them.
Bowling balls and shopping carts were found to be much worse...yuck
I've not stuck my fingers into a bowling ball since I saw that show.
Unfortunately, I can't say the same about shopping carts. Therefore I'm
Daddio gave me the evil eye as I searched (in vain) for the alcohol wipes.
"Forget it" he barked "I don't need those things."
"You're going to get sick" I warned.
"That's why I have such a superior immune system" Daddio brags "I'm not scared of germs."
Daddio doesn't really understand how aggressive he needs to be to successfully navigate a Meijer store on a Sunday after church.
Trying to be mannerly gets you nowhere besides stuck behind a lady with a coupon filled shoe box, six unruly snotty nosed children and two full carts.
Or an old gray buck carefully studying the entire 129 different varieties of Campbell's soup looking for Mrs. Grass chicken noodle.
Arrghhhh.....
So as Daddio, beginning to look brain dead waits behind the gang, I scurry ahead grabbing items as I go.
Needing to get some tomato sauce for spaghetti I stop at the Hunts sauce and look for the big cans.
Of course, as usual they only have the eight ounce size and all of them seem to be dented.
When he catches up to me Daddio gets perturbed watching me feel out each can trying to find an uninjured few.
"What the hell does it matter?" he asks "just grab a couple."
I'll be sure to remind him of this little exchange a couple of days from now when he is suffering from stomach cramps.
We make it to the check out with me knowing that I certainly have forgotten something...you can't shop properly under that kind of pressure.
I choose a good lane and place our groceries onto the belt. Daddio was in front and didn't know what to do when the cashier passed him one of those grocery separating bars like a baton in a race.
"What?" he asks, holding it in the air "Do I run with this thing?"
When the cashier is almost done ringing our order I see that there is a great possibility that I may be able to use my $6.00 off $60.00 coupon as well.
I started getting giddy.
$26.00 off my grocery order!!!!
When the total hit $60.53 I almost screamed "BINGO", but for Daddio's sake I just stood mute and handed the cashier the coupons.
A little history here, over the years Daddio has gone to the grocery store once, maybe three times by himself. The couple of times that he did was because I was totally unable...I had a day old newborn at home or I was projectile vomiting and had a temperature of 103.
So only when he HAD to, did Daddio ever step foot into a grocery store.
I always gave him coupons and good directions about using them.
The following day I'd find them in a soggy ball at the bottom of the washing machine.
When I handed the blob to Daddio he'd just shrug and say "I forgot."
That was not a truthful statement...Daddio would rather hang by his earlobes than use a coupon. Using one is like asking for charity. Stealing money from the cashier's pocket. Trying to redeem a clam shell from the Great Depression...
She swiped and swiped.
Without even looking I could feel Daddio pain.
"Buy any alcohol?" she asked.
"Nope, no alcohol" I answered.
"Ohhhh...it doesn't count your bottle deposits" Miss Cashier finally figured out. "You need to buy something else."
Daddio's embarrassment and the line behind us was growing by the minute.
"Gum!!" I yelled "I'll take some gum."
Since the people behind us in their impatience had invaded our personal space, I couldn't reach the gum display and had to ask the cashier to choose a pack.
The first pack didn't cost enough.
"Okay, two then" I told the cashier who obviously is also a Libra and was having a hard time making a choice for me.
"ANY KIND" I yelled "ANYTHING!!!!"
The second pack didn't do it either.
"Charge me for two eight packs of Pepsi, I'll run back and get another." I suggested.
Finally, the machine took the coupons.
I sent Daddio and the other groceries to the car and I ran to the back to get my extra eight pack of pop.
It was a long walk which gave me plenty of time to plan my defense.
I was mighty tempted to ask the cashier for that baton and directions to the nearest exit.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
I can fly.....
Doing a bit of internet hopping I stumbled upon Saturday Centus, a themed writing meme. The challenge is to write 100 words to add to the prompt started by Jenny Matlock from off on my tangent.
The writing prompt is in itallics....
The small Cessna 172 picked up speed as it roared down the runway, Sara at the controls, the flight instructor beside her,
She shook the daydream from her mind and went back to watching the bird, whose wings dipped in perfect harmony with her feelings. Up, down, side to side. When the bird dipped close enough for Sara to see it she noticed how incredibly plain it was. But in flight, wings spread, soaring, it appeared to be so much more.
Just like me, thought Sara.....
The writing prompt is in itallics....
The small Cessna 172 picked up speed as it roared down the runway, Sara at the controls, the flight instructor beside her,
She shook the daydream from her mind and went back to watching the bird, whose wings dipped in perfect harmony with her feelings. Up, down, side to side. When the bird dipped close enough for Sara to see it she noticed how incredibly plain it was. But in flight, wings spread, soaring, it appeared to be so much more.
Just like me, thought Sara.....
Friday, May 14, 2010
TROUBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!! You're in DEEP!!!!
The phone started ringing in the middle of the night.
Last time I reported an incident such as this I told of walking across Daddio and the covers Jesus lizard style.
This time, I was a cartoon scaredy cat that blew up and out the ceiling, paws spread east and west...with every hair at attention.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THE PHONE IS RINGING" I screamed at slumbering Daddio.
3:48 in the freakin morning the phone was ringing.
Once again, my eyes struggled to see who it was that was calling.
I determined by glancing at the number that it was our oldest son.
Had to be trouble.
At 3:48 in the morning there is no other reason to call your parent's home unless you're in trouble.
I ran to the bathroom. I had to pee or puke.
Okay, I'm being a bit overdramatic.
I ran to pee and to not be in the room when Daddio figured out what the caller's problem was.
A wait like that can be compared to dry heaving.
"Hello, HELLO, HELLLLLL-OOOOO" I could hear Daddio saying.
I went back to my room and Daddio.
Per his request I flipped on the light.
He hit the phone log button and returned the caller's call.
I ran back out of the room.
I could hear him talking and saying things like "Who is this?" and "What is your last name" and then I heard him say something like "This is mumble mumble mumble's DAD".
Oh my Sweeeet Jesus!!!!....SOMEONE was calling from The Sweet Prince Buttercup's cell phone.....
In 0.05 seconds I had Buttercup robbed, drugged, tied up and attempted raped by the bad guys that stole his phone (the ones brazen enough to answer his phone and hold a conversation with Daddio at 3:48 in the morning).
When I found the courage to peek around the corner into our bedroom Daddio had hung up and was shaking his head....
"It was Trouble (Googie's fiance')" Daddio said "it sounded like he was sleeping. He had no idea he called and was confused. I asked him who he was and he said his name. Then I asked him his last name. When I told him he'd called our house he had no explanation. He said he was very sorry".
Soooo Trouble....we need to have a little chat.
You'd better put that phone of yours on some kind of key lock, or make sure when you go to sleep that it never, ever has our house phone number as the last place you called.
We are not the kind of people that take middle of the night butt calls lightly.
You are damned lucky you are so incredibly cute and kind.
I'm just sayin....
PS...This is nothing that a bouquet of purple (or yellow) tulips and a bottle of Jimmy Beam couldn't help to erase.
PSS....I'm just kidding.
Trouble, when he wasn't in any.
PSS... I layed wide eyed awake and faint of heart wishing I could go back to sleep and wondering if it would be terribly unmotherly to not have a functioning phone in my bedroom at night?
I'll have to think more about that.
Happy Friday.. xoxo
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Mental housekeeping with ADD......
So today I'm doing a little mental housekeeping, a tidying up of sorts... (and also hoping to rid the dresser top of some of a large collection of pictures that have gathered there.)
"Leave em" I tell Daddio "I have a plan for them".
(Never mind that I've left them for almost a year now.)
Theyare threatening to have grown to pile status and yes, the pile has started to slide off every time anyone brushes by.
Which could lead to Daddio having an apoplexy attack.
And we try to avoid that at all costs.
x0x0x0x0x0x0
"Leave em" I tell Daddio "I have a plan for them".
(Never mind that I've left them for almost a year now.)
They
Which could lead to Daddio having an apoplexy attack.
And we try to avoid that at all costs.
A family portrait....
(They're creepy and they're kooky, mysterious and spooky,they're all together ooky......)
I wasn't really that much taller than the rest, I had on 5 inch high platform heels.
Mom...found these in your collection of family pics....just letting you know you may have unknowingly contributed to society going to shit....
Kid with gun (and a Natural Born Killer's Juliette Lewis look-a-like sidekick).
Is that a cigarette in his hand?
Chewbacca's nest?
(Have you ever seen so much freakin hair?)
Are those not the neatest white boots you've ever seen?
Daddio was a freakin azz fashion plate back in the day wasn't he?
Moooooooooom, how could you?
My best friend's mom did her the same way....at least she didn't look like she was wearing a nazi war helmet.
Speaking of my oldest and dearest bestest friend....
Joyceeeee.... yes, as it appears and is certainly true I did steal this picture off of your school file when I worked (for about five minutes) as an office aide. I want you to know, I never (well maybe just once) planned to use it as blackmail. You know the fact that you were blonde, stunningly beautiful and had huge boobs never really made me all that jealous, seriously, not really too jealous, well, maybe a wee bit jealous. x0x0x0x0x0x0
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The best (twilight) sleep she ever had.....
Googie has been suffering from some stomach problems and was advised to get a colonoscopy. Yesterday was the big day. Both of us were dreading the prep done the night before the procedure. As we expected she almost didn't make it through.
She tossed out at least two cups of the laxative laden Gatorade, pleading ....."no more".
She was sooooo green, I had to agree.
In the morning we didn't speak too much on the way to the surgery center, I did reach my hand over the seat a few times to hold her hand.
When we got to the front desk to check in Googie was carded..."you are 18, right?" the desk clerk asked.
At 4'11" and 90 pounds Googie fools lots of people.
It didn't take long for a nurse to come and get her to take her in back to change into a gown and have a quick interview with the doctor who would be doping her up.
He commented, jokingly "all of 90 pounds, huh? Won't take much to put you under."
When the prep nurse came to get Daddio and I she apologized in advance for hurting our girl.
"Her veins are so small, and she is so dehydrated it took me three tries to get her IV in. I ended up having to get one of the docs to do it" she explained.
Googie was being a good sport. I knew she had to be hurting, I could see swelling and bruising on her little hands.
"She's a trooper" said the nurse.
Yeah, this kid who had refused to swallow a pill until she was 20 was surprising us all.
We had a lot of time to joke around in the room waiting for them to come and get Googie and after more than an hour with empty stomachs (in support of Googie) and frazzled nerves Daddio and I began to snipe at each other.
Seinfeld character George Constanza's parents or Everybody Loves Raymond's Marie and Frank Barone quickly come to mind.
"Your mother is a know it all" he informs Goog.
"If she were in that bed she wouldn't need the doctor to put her to sleep" Shecky Green joked "she wouldn't even need the nurses to push her down the hall, her arms would reach around back and she would even carry her own IV pole, while pushing pulling herself (and the bed) along the wall, with one arm".....
(Arrrghhhhh shut up you idiot.)
They finally came to take her away and fifteen kisses later my girl was being wheeled down the long hall and Daddio and I were ushered back to the waiting room.
"See you soon" the nurses said.
My legs shook, and bounced and were restless.
And I asked Daddio at least ten times if 15 minutes had passed yet.
After the 10th time he said "relax, it hasn't been that long".
I started watching the door like an expectant father in the old movies....every time it looked like someone was walking out I sat forward in my seat.
Finally, they came for us.
I tried to read the nurses face, to see if Googie was okay.
"How is she" I asked.
"Ohhhh, she's enjoying her anesthesia" was her response.
Daddio and I walked into the room and Googie was slumped sideways on her hospital pillow, her eyes tightly closed and a grin from ear to ear.
It was obvious that Googie was not only fifty sheets to the wind, she was loaded and stoned.
Her antics had Daddio and I cracking up. The nurse was laughing too.
With her eyes closed she'd use her IV heavy hand to search the tray for a cookie, she'd finally locate one, bring it to her mouth take a bite and then forget to chew.
"GOOGIE!!! You are gonna choke. Sit up and chew" I ordered.
She just giggled.
And waved her arms in the air, making circles with both wrists.
"I luuuuuuuv this stuff" she slurred.
The Ellen show was on in the background and when Ellen started talking about people who were graduating Googie took the message personal and started her little fist pumping.
Up and down she pumped.
Then she started waving only one hand and when I asked her what she was doing she replied "conducting".
The dope doctor came in to check on his pint sized patient. She was laughing pretty hard when he came in and when he asked her "how ya doin?"
She answered "YOU tell me!!!!" then giggled.
"Ohhhhhhh boy" the Candy Man said.
"This is just like a regular Saturday night!!!!" Googie yelled.
"She doesn't drink, honestly she doesn't" I truthfully said, trying to clear Party Time Charlie's name.
The nurse told us to take it slow getting her dressed.
Daddio said he'd go warm up the car and pull it around front to pick us up when we were ready.
I helped Googie's underwear onto her feet and she came around enough to pull them up. Then came her yoga pants. When she had them pulled over her hips she kicked off the blankets and spread her legs widely side to side. If she were on the floor she would have been doing the splits.
"GOOGIE!!! What are the heck are you doin???" I asked.
"Stretchin mom, I'm stretchin".
She slap happily staggered to the waiting wheel chair and on the way down the hall she had a few more words to say to nurses getting in our way.
"Excuse us" one said politely, pushing another patient by.
"NOOOO EXCUSE US!!!!" Googie yelled.
The nurses looked knowingly at each other and laughed.
Googie came home and slept off the rest of her high.
Ohhh, a couple more things before I end my story......
1. Googie's colon is sparkling healthy.
2. God is Good!!!!!
3. And Googie now knows she can fly, minus wings.
Ohhhh boy!!!
She tossed out at least two cups of the laxative laden Gatorade, pleading ....."no more".
She was sooooo green, I had to agree.
In the morning we didn't speak too much on the way to the surgery center, I did reach my hand over the seat a few times to hold her hand.
When we got to the front desk to check in Googie was carded..."you are 18, right?" the desk clerk asked.
At 4'11" and 90 pounds Googie fools lots of people.
It didn't take long for a nurse to come and get her to take her in back to change into a gown and have a quick interview with the doctor who would be doping her up.
He commented, jokingly "all of 90 pounds, huh? Won't take much to put you under."
When the prep nurse came to get Daddio and I she apologized in advance for hurting our girl.
"Her veins are so small, and she is so dehydrated it took me three tries to get her IV in. I ended up having to get one of the docs to do it" she explained.
Googie was being a good sport. I knew she had to be hurting, I could see swelling and bruising on her little hands.
"She's a trooper" said the nurse.
Yeah, this kid who had refused to swallow a pill until she was 20 was surprising us all.
We had a lot of time to joke around in the room waiting for them to come and get Googie and after more than an hour with empty stomachs (in support of Googie) and frazzled nerves Daddio and I began to snipe at each other.
Seinfeld character George Constanza's parents or Everybody Loves Raymond's Marie and Frank Barone quickly come to mind.
"Your mother is a know it all" he informs Goog.
"If she were in that bed she wouldn't need the doctor to put her to sleep" Shecky Green joked "she wouldn't even need the nurses to push her down the hall, her arms would reach around back and she would even carry her own IV pole, while pushing pulling herself (and the bed) along the wall, with one arm".....
(Arrrghhhhh shut up you idiot.)
They finally came to take her away and fifteen kisses later my girl was being wheeled down the long hall and Daddio and I were ushered back to the waiting room.
"See you soon" the nurses said.
My legs shook, and bounced and were restless.
And I asked Daddio at least ten times if 15 minutes had passed yet.
After the 10th time he said "relax, it hasn't been that long".
I started watching the door like an expectant father in the old movies....every time it looked like someone was walking out I sat forward in my seat.
Finally, they came for us.
I tried to read the nurses face, to see if Googie was okay.
"How is she" I asked.
"Ohhhh, she's enjoying her anesthesia" was her response.
Daddio and I walked into the room and Googie was slumped sideways on her hospital pillow, her eyes tightly closed and a grin from ear to ear.
It was obvious that Googie was not only fifty sheets to the wind, she was loaded and stoned.
Her antics had Daddio and I cracking up. The nurse was laughing too.
With her eyes closed she'd use her IV heavy hand to search the tray for a cookie, she'd finally locate one, bring it to her mouth take a bite and then forget to chew.
"GOOGIE!!! You are gonna choke. Sit up and chew" I ordered.
She just giggled.
And waved her arms in the air, making circles with both wrists.
"I luuuuuuuv this stuff" she slurred.
The Ellen show was on in the background and when Ellen started talking about people who were graduating Googie took the message personal and started her little fist pumping.
Up and down she pumped.
Then she started waving only one hand and when I asked her what she was doing she replied "conducting".
The dope doctor came in to check on his pint sized patient. She was laughing pretty hard when he came in and when he asked her "how ya doin?"
She answered "YOU tell me!!!!" then giggled.
"Ohhhhhhh boy" the Candy Man said.
"This is just like a regular Saturday night!!!!" Googie yelled.
"She doesn't drink, honestly she doesn't" I truthfully said, trying to clear Party Time Charlie's name.
The nurse told us to take it slow getting her dressed.
Daddio said he'd go warm up the car and pull it around front to pick us up when we were ready.
I helped Googie's underwear onto her feet and she came around enough to pull them up. Then came her yoga pants. When she had them pulled over her hips she kicked off the blankets and spread her legs widely side to side. If she were on the floor she would have been doing the splits.
"GOOGIE!!! What are the heck are you doin???" I asked.
"Stretchin mom, I'm stretchin".
She slap happily staggered to the waiting wheel chair and on the way down the hall she had a few more words to say to nurses getting in our way.
"Excuse us" one said politely, pushing another patient by.
"NOOOO EXCUSE US!!!!" Googie yelled.
The nurses looked knowingly at each other and laughed.
Googie came home and slept off the rest of her high.
Ohhh, a couple more things before I end my story......
1. Googie's colon is sparkling healthy.
2. God is Good!!!!!
3. And Googie now knows she can fly, minus wings.
Ohhhh boy!!!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Trumped......
There are two days I look very forward to each year, Mother's Day and my birthday.
I promise you it has nothing at all to do with gifts.
These special "all about me days" are the perfect excuse for me to sit on my can and do nothing (except what I want to do) all day long.
This year Mother's Day and Daddio's birthday decided to fall on the same day.
So I asked a panel of experts (a couple of other moms) who should trump who???
Who should get breakfast in bed and a back rub nice enough for its memory to get them through till next year?
Who should be crowned King or Queen for the day???
Any and all long suffering mothers reading this blog already know very well the answer.
Damititalltohell.......... :-(
Daddio's birthday trumped Mother's Day.
I'm not sure if he sees it that way though.
Daddio had a gig on Saturday night and while a mass consumption of doctored up Diet Pepsi(s) had him feeling no pain then, it appeared it was going to have the opposite effect on him this morning, and possibly linger the whole day long.
"I can't eat in bed" Daddio said as I tried to convince him to sit up and fluff the pillows behind him.
"I'm just not that kind of guy" he insisted when I attempted to sit a tray filled with breakfast on his lap.
Let me clarify that, he's not the kind of guy who eats from a tray in bed...but he does eat in bed, a lot.
I've rolled in mustard blobs and cracker crumbs.
Grape jelly and hunks of bread.
I even woke up in the middle of the night once to an intense smell of lettuce.
So strong was the smell that I was forced to get up and flip on the hall light.
You can only imagine my shock when I saw an entire soft taco (minus one bite) laying face up on my flat fitted sheet.
Taco meat, cheese, lettuce and sauce littered my bed.
Seems Bear had called to let us know he was stopping at Taco Bell on his way home. Daddio had sleepily answered the call and said "sure" when Bear offered to bring him something.
Like a good son Bear loaded up the taco with sauce just the way Daddio likes, he carried it upstairs, and planted it right in his sleeping father's waiting hand.
That he is alive to celebrate any more birthdays says something of my love for him.
Happy Birthday to my darling Daddio, I'm sorry that while you trumped me, the senior mothers trumped you and we had to spend your birthday on the road visiting and eating dinner in strange places.
Please know that I love you like no other and that you fill my life with so many wonderful things for which I am eternally grateful....including, but not limited to, fodder for this blog.
xoxoxox
I promise you it has nothing at all to do with gifts.
These special "all about me days" are the perfect excuse for me to sit on my can and do nothing (except what I want to do) all day long.
This year Mother's Day and Daddio's birthday decided to fall on the same day.
So I asked a panel of experts (a couple of other moms) who should trump who???
Who should get breakfast in bed and a back rub nice enough for its memory to get them through till next year?
Who should be crowned King or Queen for the day???
Any and all long suffering mothers reading this blog already know very well the answer.
Damititalltohell.......... :-(
Daddio's birthday trumped Mother's Day.
I'm not sure if he sees it that way though.
Daddio had a gig on Saturday night and while a mass consumption of doctored up Diet Pepsi(s) had him feeling no pain then, it appeared it was going to have the opposite effect on him this morning, and possibly linger the whole day long.
"I can't eat in bed" Daddio said as I tried to convince him to sit up and fluff the pillows behind him.
"I'm just not that kind of guy" he insisted when I attempted to sit a tray filled with breakfast on his lap.
Let me clarify that, he's not the kind of guy who eats from a tray in bed...but he does eat in bed, a lot.
I've rolled in mustard blobs and cracker crumbs.
Grape jelly and hunks of bread.
I even woke up in the middle of the night once to an intense smell of lettuce.
So strong was the smell that I was forced to get up and flip on the hall light.
You can only imagine my shock when I saw an entire soft taco (minus one bite) laying face up on my flat fitted sheet.
Taco meat, cheese, lettuce and sauce littered my bed.
Seems Bear had called to let us know he was stopping at Taco Bell on his way home. Daddio had sleepily answered the call and said "sure" when Bear offered to bring him something.
Like a good son Bear loaded up the taco with sauce just the way Daddio likes, he carried it upstairs, and planted it right in his sleeping father's waiting hand.
That he is alive to celebrate any more birthdays says something of my love for him.
Happy Birthday to my darling Daddio, I'm sorry that while you trumped me, the senior mothers trumped you and we had to spend your birthday on the road visiting and eating dinner in strange places.
Please know that I love you like no other and that you fill my life with so many wonderful things for which I am eternally grateful....including, but not limited to, fodder for this blog.
xoxoxox
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Mommy....
The agency where I work becomes a ghost town nearly every Friday. Most of the programs finish up on Thursdays and Fridays are to either catch up on paperwork or flex out if one has reached their maximum hours for that pay period.
This past Friday was no exception. When I got to work around one thirty the place was nearly empty. I ran into my boss as he was leaving. We talked for a minute and then he remembered that he needed something out of the locked kitchen. We hunted down the chef (who usually never works past noon on Fridays) to get a key, and together we walked down the long, deserted hallway.
Just as we went through a set of heavy double doors we saw a little tiny boy toddling toward us. Although none of us spoke this thought, we all were expecting to see a mommy (or a big sister or brother) round the corner behind the fast walking child. The gap between us was closing and it quickly became apparent that there was not anyone with this baby.
The small brown haired boy clutched a tattered blue waffle blanket which he held up against his cheek. He barely looked at us as he started to pass us by.
This was a man on a mission.
"Hey" I called out to him "Are you looking for Mommy”?
He little head bobbed up and down.
“I can help you find her” I said, hoping to reassure him.
I held out my hand. He looked down at it and then up at me. His big round brown eyes starting to pool.
“Can I hold your hand?” I asked.
He shook his head no.
“Well” I said, “you are right to say no. You shouldn’t hold hands with a stranger”.
My boss and the chef took off in different directions looking for Mommy. I walked with the boy down the center hallway of the building.
“Do you know your Mommy’s name?” I asked.
“Uh-huh” he said quietly, shaking his head up and down.
“What is it?” I asked. “What is your mommy’s name?"
“It’s Mommy”, he said with a lisp.
“Why of course” I said, “Your mommy’s name is Mommy”.
Just then one of the doors of the gym swung open hard and behind it was my boss and a very worried looking man.
“Daddy” the boy yelled.
Daddy explained that he was a volunteer painting the gym. He brought his young son with him and when the boy got tired he laid him down for a nap on one of the little cots and got to work. The group of volunteers were listening to music and talking while they painted. Daddy said that when he glanced over at the cot to check on his sleeping baby he discovered the boy was gone. Daddy had been all over the building looking for the little explorer. He'd run back to the gym to see if he'd been found, just as my boss was in there asking if anyone was missing a baby.
I never thought to teach my kids my name. I guess I just assumed that they knew what it was.
This story is for all of you who go by the name Mommy.
This past Friday was no exception. When I got to work around one thirty the place was nearly empty. I ran into my boss as he was leaving. We talked for a minute and then he remembered that he needed something out of the locked kitchen. We hunted down the chef (who usually never works past noon on Fridays) to get a key, and together we walked down the long, deserted hallway.
Just as we went through a set of heavy double doors we saw a little tiny boy toddling toward us. Although none of us spoke this thought, we all were expecting to see a mommy (or a big sister or brother) round the corner behind the fast walking child. The gap between us was closing and it quickly became apparent that there was not anyone with this baby.
The small brown haired boy clutched a tattered blue waffle blanket which he held up against his cheek. He barely looked at us as he started to pass us by.
This was a man on a mission.
"Hey" I called out to him "Are you looking for Mommy”?
He little head bobbed up and down.
“I can help you find her” I said, hoping to reassure him.
I held out my hand. He looked down at it and then up at me. His big round brown eyes starting to pool.
“Can I hold your hand?” I asked.
He shook his head no.
“Well” I said, “you are right to say no. You shouldn’t hold hands with a stranger”.
My boss and the chef took off in different directions looking for Mommy. I walked with the boy down the center hallway of the building.
“Do you know your Mommy’s name?” I asked.
“Uh-huh” he said quietly, shaking his head up and down.
“What is it?” I asked. “What is your mommy’s name?"
“It’s Mommy”, he said with a lisp.
“Why of course” I said, “Your mommy’s name is Mommy”.
Just then one of the doors of the gym swung open hard and behind it was my boss and a very worried looking man.
“Daddy” the boy yelled.
Daddy explained that he was a volunteer painting the gym. He brought his young son with him and when the boy got tired he laid him down for a nap on one of the little cots and got to work. The group of volunteers were listening to music and talking while they painted. Daddy said that when he glanced over at the cot to check on his sleeping baby he discovered the boy was gone. Daddy had been all over the building looking for the little explorer. He'd run back to the gym to see if he'd been found, just as my boss was in there asking if anyone was missing a baby.
I never thought to teach my kids my name. I guess I just assumed that they knew what it was.
This story is for all of you who go by the name Mommy.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Random firings...(Whatta a week, and it's only hump day)
Some randomness for this wonderful Wednesday....
It's been quite a wacky week so far.
It's been written (and is widely known) that Daddio is a man of many talents. He undertakes big projects. And does an amazingly good job at them.
He impresses the crap outta me that he can watch almost anything once and then do it well himself.
He watched me color other people's hair a couple of times and does mine on request. He makes less of a mess and gives a better shampoo than most of the seasoned hairdressers that I know.
I both love and hate this about him.
On Monday night I came home to find this on the garage floor,
This is the side of the garage. Part of a big fence (that was attached to this) decided to blow down one day breaking some of the mortar that held the brick in place.
DELISH.....(and only a buck on sale).
This is the coffee cake the loveables and I made in school yesterday. This morning, half of each large piece eaten.
It's been quite a wacky week so far.
Daddio YOU are the man..... (like he says, "just ask me")
It's been written (and is widely known) that Daddio is a man of many talents. He undertakes big projects. And does an amazingly good job at them.
He impresses the crap outta me that he can watch almost anything once and then do it well himself.
He watched me color other people's hair a couple of times and does mine on request. He makes less of a mess and gives a better shampoo than most of the seasoned hairdressers that I know.
I both love and hate this about him.
On Monday night I came home to find this on the garage floor,
Daddio's decided to rebuild our house.
He's not letting the fact that he doesn't know how to do masonry work deter him.
This is the side of the garage. Part of a big fence (that was attached to this) decided to blow down one day breaking some of the mortar that held the brick in place.
Daddio fretted over this each and every time we pulled into the driveway.
Telling me that this kind of crap left unattended was a loud and clear message to our neighbors that we were hillbillies.
Kroger....Our on again, off again, may be on again....
Daddio loves vinegar and oil. As I was passing by my favorite (not) grocery store I remembered I needed a few things, including some kind of dressing for the man. I decided to suck it up and go where it was convenient, good ol Krogers...there I picked up the bottle below.
DELISH.....(and only a buck on sale).
Okay, I guess I don't need to wonder anymore
why my pants are all getting too tight
This is the coffee cake the loveables and I made in school yesterday. This morning, half of each large piece eaten.
I tried blaming everyone else for this piggish behavior but the four forks laying in the sink...and the lipstick left behind on each one of them advised me otherwise.
Every picture tells a story, don't it????
The photographs below can be simply titled "Looking at me".
Enjoy this day....
And please, do come tomorrow back.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Bark at the moon...part duex
I knew it, I just knew Daddio was wrong when he answered no to my question "is the moon full?"
People act weird when the moon is full, myself included.
I drift into other lanes on the highway.
I forget words.
Except four letter ones.
Which I spit outta my mouth like discarded sunflower seed husks.
And it's all because I'm so aggravated at....um, well, everything.
And it appears as if the entire human race has joined me.
It's like the whole world has pms and dementia combined.
Full moons have me channeling late comedian George Carlin on the highway when I scream at anyone going slower than me calling them "assholes" and anyone daring to go faster is certainly a "maniac".
Its a no win situation.
The only one driving properly is, well, actually none of us.
Then while making dinner, I cut myself.
When I run to the garage with a dish cloth tightly wrapped around my bleeding finger Daddio bellows "What did I tell ya? I knew this was gonna happen. You think you are some kind of fancy chef tossing those big knives around..I told you...I TOLD YOU.."
(Just for the record, Daddio has been predicting this exact tragic event for over 27 years, every time I cook and he watches.)
I've done a bit of predicting myself over the years buddy...Predictions like "one-a deeze days Alice...POW to da Moon"....
And speaking of POWS to somebody's kisser.....
As Googie was getting ready to leave the house she leaned in to kiss me goodbye.
She's famous for presenting a cheek for a peck...I often follow suit and we'll give a kiss-kiss in the air like debutantes or old Italians.
Today she decided to give me a real peck on my cheek.
And I decided to give her a real peck on her cheek.
At the same time we puckered up and turned toward each other...
SMACK....right on the old kissers.
"EWWWWWWWWWWWW" we screamed in unison, then wiped our mouths.
It's not everyday your daughter tries to French kiss you....
That damn crazy ass full moon.....
(PS...I later sent Googie a text message saying "I kissed a girl and I liked it", I'm sure she read it whilst driving and drifted into the next lane calling the guy she almost sideswiped an asshole.)
When da moon hits da sky like a big pizza pie dat'ssssssssssssssss amore.
This stunningly beautiful photo shamelessly stolen borrowed from this website....Nick Honachefski of CourierPostOnline(dot)com. (Thank you sir..I hope I don't owe you any flow, cause at the moment I'm quite broke.)
People act weird when the moon is full, myself included.
I drift into other lanes on the highway.
I forget words.
Except four letter ones.
Which I spit outta my mouth like discarded sunflower seed husks.
And it's all because I'm so aggravated at....um, well, everything.
And it appears as if the entire human race has joined me.
It's like the whole world has pms and dementia combined.
Full moons have me channeling late comedian George Carlin on the highway when I scream at anyone going slower than me calling them "assholes" and anyone daring to go faster is certainly a "maniac".
Its a no win situation.
The only one driving properly is, well, actually none of us.
Then while making dinner, I cut myself.
When I run to the garage with a dish cloth tightly wrapped around my bleeding finger Daddio bellows "What did I tell ya? I knew this was gonna happen. You think you are some kind of fancy chef tossing those big knives around..I told you...I TOLD YOU.."
(Just for the record, Daddio has been predicting this exact tragic event for over 27 years, every time I cook and he watches.)
I've done a bit of predicting myself over the years buddy...Predictions like "one-a deeze days Alice...POW to da Moon"....
And speaking of POWS to somebody's kisser.....
As Googie was getting ready to leave the house she leaned in to kiss me goodbye.
She's famous for presenting a cheek for a peck...I often follow suit and we'll give a kiss-kiss in the air like debutantes or old Italians.
Today she decided to give me a real peck on my cheek.
And I decided to give her a real peck on her cheek.
At the same time we puckered up and turned toward each other...
SMACK....right on the old kissers.
"EWWWWWWWWWWWW" we screamed in unison, then wiped our mouths.
It's not everyday your daughter tries to French kiss you....
That damn crazy ass full moon.....
(PS...I later sent Googie a text message saying "I kissed a girl and I liked it", I'm sure she read it whilst driving and drifted into the next lane calling the guy she almost sideswiped an asshole.)
When da moon hits da sky like a big pizza pie dat'ssssssssssssssss amore.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Butterflies, daffodils, lip gloss and a chess playing beaver....
Well howdy do der, it's Monday and if I recall I promised that if you tuned back in on Monday I would share with you my nightmare.
I've always been a big dreamer, a daydreamer mostly.
I'm quite sure that is why I wasn't the greatest of students.
Every report card from my youth said basically the same thing, Elizabeth likes to talk and daydream. She could and should be doing better.
Who cares about times tables or nouns when there are butterflies soaring and daffodils dancing right outside your classroom window?
Or in junior high, an interesting hairdo or lip gloss shade to try and dissect, sitting right in front of you????
Not me, that's for sure.
The dreams of my slumber are not nearly as calming or enchanting.
I'll never admit to being so whacked out that I dream about watching Abe Lincoln and a big beaver play chess...(ever see that commerical???)
So I'll say I mostly dream about real stuff.
Like this.......
Frozen with fear, a deer in the headlights.
I'm trapped like an animal in a cage.
Unable to escape.
The anticipation of the wait makes me squirm and I try to sink down low, low enough to be out of sight.
I wish to slip off my seat onto the floor where I can slither like a snake against the wall until I reach the door.
Then disappear completely and forever.
Out of the corner of my eye I see him preparing.
Blue gloves covering his hands, he's holding instruments of torture.
There is no turning back.
This man has hurt me before, plenty of times.
And I hate him.
My heart beats in my mouth and in my stomach, adrenalin is cursing through my veins like a speeding train threatening to blow through my fingers, which are tingling and trying to disappear into my sweaty palms.
I feel my nails making gouges in my skin, and for a second wonder why I let them get so long.
The self inflicted pain, I control.
The other, about to come, is his to control.
My chest is almost heaving, my breaths so rapid.
I try to quiet myself so my fear isn’t noticed.
I close my eyes and begin a Hail Mary.
“Open wide” the doctor says.
I've always been a big dreamer, a daydreamer mostly.
I'm quite sure that is why I wasn't the greatest of students.
Every report card from my youth said basically the same thing, Elizabeth likes to talk and daydream. She could and should be doing better.
Who cares about times tables or nouns when there are butterflies soaring and daffodils dancing right outside your classroom window?
Or in junior high, an interesting hairdo or lip gloss shade to try and dissect, sitting right in front of you????
Not me, that's for sure.
The dreams of my slumber are not nearly as calming or enchanting.
I'll never admit to being so whacked out that I dream about watching Abe Lincoln and a big beaver play chess...(ever see that commerical???)
So I'll say I mostly dream about real stuff.
Like this.......
Frozen with fear, a deer in the headlights.
I'm trapped like an animal in a cage.
Unable to escape.
The anticipation of the wait makes me squirm and I try to sink down low, low enough to be out of sight.
I wish to slip off my seat onto the floor where I can slither like a snake against the wall until I reach the door.
Then disappear completely and forever.
Out of the corner of my eye I see him preparing.
Blue gloves covering his hands, he's holding instruments of torture.
There is no turning back.
This man has hurt me before, plenty of times.
And I hate him.
My heart beats in my mouth and in my stomach, adrenalin is cursing through my veins like a speeding train threatening to blow through my fingers, which are tingling and trying to disappear into my sweaty palms.
I feel my nails making gouges in my skin, and for a second wonder why I let them get so long.
The self inflicted pain, I control.
The other, about to come, is his to control.
My chest is almost heaving, my breaths so rapid.
I try to quiet myself so my fear isn’t noticed.
I close my eyes and begin a Hail Mary.
“Open wide” the doctor says.
When I'm done he attempts to give me something to take my mind off the abuse.
A new purple toothbrush and a clean bill of dental health.
That's hardly worth the year of my life I lost anticipating, through nightmares, my visit with him.
Five and a half months from now the nightmare begins again.....
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