Flowers for me??? I do declare.....

When I was in the hospital soon after giving birth to Googie my visiting dad made a funny comment...."How does it feel to have your own real live doll?"

Wow... I hadn't really thought about it that way.

A person, a little girl person who I could dress up and play house with.

Mine, all mine.

In the hospital the nurses brought her to me with tiny bows stuck on her head.

She had about 7 dark brown hairs on top of her noggin and since they had nothing to anchor the bows onto they used K-Y Jelly.

She looked lovely.

She put up with that crap until she was able to notice that something was on her head and then she'd pull everything I put in out.

"Darn it Googie, leave it in" I used to say, hitting her wee hand with a little ball-peen hammer ( I didn't really, I was just making sure you were paying attention)

Anyway, my plan was to make my doll the most beautiful doll anyone had ever seen.

(Not that she needed my help, just sayin)

I guess she had a similar plan.

When she was two, someone (Grandma Jan perhaps??) gifted her with a pink tiara.

It was a gaudy thing, sturdy plastic with a flag of pink chiffon material that blew in the air when she walked.

She didn't go anywhere without that tiara.

She got lots of attention at the grocery store.

And the pet shop.

And the doctor's office.

Yes, my doll was that adorable.

Even in that goofy tiara, she was simply cute as hell.

I've been noticing these beautiful huge azaleas around town and a few days ago I spotted one in my neighbors back yard.

I asked him if I could have it...ballsy, I know..but I had a plan.

How sweet that would look in someone's hair, Hawaiian style.

You know Dad,  you were soooo right about the fun I would have with my own real live doll.....

"Hold still you brat, give the K-Y time to dry."

She really is a good sport.

(Thanks kid for indulging your crazy azz mother)

This freakin azz freak flower is as big as a freakin dinner plate.

Another freaky thing....

On Saturday I celebrated an anniversary.....my First Blogiversary, I wasn't able to make myself a cake, so I stole a picture of one ( from Google Images and this website basic-yoga.mattters dot com.. Thank you basic-yoga.matters dot com for the picture)

Pooooo-poooooo-p-do!!!!!!

PS...To anyone who takes a minute or two to visit this blog and read it, thank you!

 I appreciate you!

And to those who comment.. I appreciate you x's 2.

xoxoxo

Free at last....

Oooooh that Jenny Matlock over at off on my tangent really has us working...here is her Saturday Centus challenge for this week....

Take any other Saturday Centus story (yours or someone else’s) and using ANOTHER 100 WORDS...tell us the "rest of the story".

Please copy and paste the first story so we can read both entries easily.
So...
A 100 word story that tells the rest of any previous Saturday Centus!, 
 
The story I chose to "finish" was started by a lovely lady over at a blog called Moonlight Hollow ( Hers is in blue, my "finish"will be in black/ bold itallics...)
 
 
It was an act of love.
 
He pulled the white sheets off my shoulders. His hand moved down my arm until it entwined itself with mine.


“Is this the way you want it?” he asked softly.


Pure love existed in that moment. I had one foot in reality and the other in heaven.


“I want you to do it now,” I whispered.


He didn’t hesitate. His body moved next to mine as he covered me with warm kisses.


As I snuggled into the crook of his arm, he reached down and unplugged my ventilator.


It was an act of love. That’s why it meant so much.
 
 
For weeks and weeks I rested on a cloud and watched his sadness.
 
His growing depression made it apparent he was second guessing what he’d done.

An act that weighed more heavily than I could have imagined when I first made the request.

Shackle free...

I’ll visit as a butterfly, just like I promised,

I’ll land on his arm, and flutter above his head.

And dart in and out of the flowers in our garden.

Carried by the wind, I’ll soar, and float and sail.

Letting him know that all is right in the place I now call home.

Wonderful feeling...wonderful day!

You know the drill, you get an A on a paper.

A pat on the back from your dad.

A high five from your boss.

You shoot, you score.

A home run...

you know,

a zippity-doo-dah-day.

Well, I had one of those yesterday...and it started the day before that.

One of the Loveables has been asking to make fried ice cream.

He's a bit of a nag...and so he's been asking a lot.

I get the impression that he asks for lots of things that he doesn't get.

Anyway day after day after day after day...."can we make fried ice cream today? when we gonna make fried ice cream? you promised we are going to make fried ice cream!!!"

On Wednesday he asked me again about the ice cream.

I explained to him that we needed a recipe, and we needed the "stuff" to complete said recipe.

And cash to pay for stuff.

And staff to drive the van to the store.

And so on and so forth.

Too much work. Too many details. Too little time."

But on this day Mr Bluebird was on our shoulders, it was the truth, it was actual, and ev'rything was satisfactual....

Zippity dooo dah....

And so on Wednesday the Loveables and the dedicated staff made baseball sized balls of vanilla ice cream, dipped them into a cinnamon sugar mixture,

then they rolled them into crushed corn flakes and packed them even tighter than snowballs.

They worked at breakneck-speed...if the ice cream got too soft, the balls would be ruined.

It was fun to watch them work.

And be a cooperative team.

It was fun to watch them run to the large walk in freezer with the balls on a large sheet tray where they would be spending the next 24 hours getting rock hard and ready to fry.

It was rewarding to hear the Loveables say "we did good" and "they look GREAT"  and "I can't wait until tomorrow".

On Thursday, the Loveable who started it all told our visiting chef "I've never worked faster in my life" ( I'm thinking I saw his hand reach around and pat his own back).

I told him how "spoiled" he was that everyone worked so hard to help him to finally get his fried ice cream.

He flashed me a 100 watt smile.

When chef fired up the fryer and dropped the first ball into the hot grease the Loveables watched, fascinated.

The staff watched fascinated, too.

"Hold the ball between the tongs" chef instructed "and when it starts to feel soft, pull it out".

They laid the hot ball onto a dab of hot fudge syrup and then we poured a spoonful on the top too.

Like my dad says "their tongue beat their brains out"...

I seriously don't think I've ever tasted anything so yummy.

A couple of the Loveables ate two balls of fried ice cream.

I think one ate three.

My, oh my, what a wonderful day,

Plenty of sunshine headin' my way,

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay......

Diary of a mad housewife....

Dear diary,

We have another mouse in our house.

Another mouse in our house.

(Dear Googie....if you are reading this and I have not yet spoken to you about this intruder...forgive me, it was too early to wake you up and scare you...hope you will forgive me. Walk hard and carry a big stick.... Love, Mom)

Have I told you lately how much I hate small things that sneak about my house (uninvited) and threaten to jump and run and scare the bejesus outta me?

I'm sure by now you know that I'm so jumpy I have to leave the room when the loveables are making anything using those damned canned biscuits that POP when you least expect it.

And my heart stops when a Jack in the Box blows...

It sucks being this jumpy..."a hen on a hot griddle" (my stepmom's description).

So from now on, until this creature is found I have to stomp (to make lots of noise) around my house wearing Daddio's old Doc Martin boots.

I'll be cringing before I sit down on the pot in the middle of the night....

I have no doubt, (none whatsoever) that Mighty Mouse/Rat can swim...or maybe float on some toilet paper left unflushed....

waiting to strike, to take a nibble.

We learned of this particular mouse when Bear and his girlfriend came up from the cave to report that they'd seen a creature running above their heads across the large square fluorescent light fixture....

"It had a huge, long tail" said the Devine Miss M,

"It might have been a rat"...

"Mouse? Rat? What the hell is the difference?

(Please..don't anyone write to tell me, thank you)

Daddio got out of bed and went to the area of the sighting, mouse trap in hand.

"THAT" he said pointing to a (very) small pile of white clothes laundry sitting on the basement floor next to the washing machine..."that right there is WHY we have a MOUSE in this HOUSE"

"Huh?" said I.

"They like dirty laundry?"

"They like moisture" he snapped.

"And that is why they are down here, because we  (that means me) have laundry laying all over the place"....

(Ohhhh freakin brother....)

After he set the trap he came upstairs and began cleaning the two or three small dessert plates left in the sink by the kids.

He cleaned every crumb from the counters.

I waited to see if he was going to sweep the floor too...(he didn't).

Later, back in bed, he told me that part of the problem is that we leave the dog food out.

"We used to pick it up off the floor at night" he reminded me.

(Previous uninvited mouse folk have eaten a chunk out of an ugly ugly green sweater that I left laying in the basement on a pile of other crap I didn't want, the beard of a really cool Santa that I got for 50% off at Michaels at an after Christmas sale, they also ate part of a foreign dollar bill that I'd been saving for years, and they even chewed up a hunk of pink fiberglass insulation...)

"I really don't think they are all that picky" I said to Daddio (remember??? you just told me that they eat dirty white towels and underwear off the basement floor??)

I tried to mentally add the cost of purchasing enough plastic storage bins to box up all our crap...

(We'd need to win the lottery.)

"They are after your pantry" Daddio said quietly before he went to sleep,

and just as he was about to drift off....

"they can smell all those things you have in there...those spices".

In my head I sing my sweet Knight in Shining Armor, the Mighty Mouse Hunter a good night lullaby...

"Have I told you lately that I love yooooo, have I told yoooooou there's no one else above yoooooou, fill my heart with laughter (FREAKIN,hysterical laughter.....)...shooooobeeeedobeedooobeeedoooobeeedo"

"Why are you shakin the bed???"

The smokin hot red sundress...a fine vacation memory

This weekend I had the pleasure of being a guest poster over at Lost and Holding Hands, Lynn the author of that blog was going on vacation and asked for a couple of vacation nightmare stories...I had a doozy.

It's called The smokin hot red sundress...(sorry Auntie T, I couldn't resist..and even though things didn't turn out as planned, as the song goes, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world".....)

Please read all about it here (and while your're there take a peek around, Lynn has a great blog).

Thanks Lynn for letting me blog sit for a post while you were away...hope your vacation is going as planned.

Oh and happy Monday!!!

What I did over my summer vacation....an essay.

Saturday Centus time, 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 (bold) itallics...




What I did over my Summer Vacation.


Hmmmm, let me think about what I did on summer vacation?

I thought about laying near water on hot sand.

I thought about sleeping till noon on a warm Saturday morning.

I thought about riding down man made hills of water on a rubber inner tube.

And midnight walks.

And growing gigantic tomatoes.

I imagined myself making smores and waving hot campfire smoke from my face.

I saw myself floating in the cool blue water of my above ground, watching the tree leaves sway above my head.

My summer vacation?

I guess you could say I daydreamed....

a lot.

BFFs

I've been having nightmares lately... like last night I woke up and thought the ceiling fan was a tarantula.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it was going to wake the dead Daddio.

Once I'm awake it's hard to let go of the thoughts in my head.

Thoughts that swirl, twirl, twist and grow more gigantic as I think them.

So after the tarantula fan turned back into a regular fan and my heart was naturally de-fibed back to a more regular beat I started thinking about Googie's getting married.

And then I didn't want to go there.

Not yet.

I still have a little more than a year.

Googie planned it that way.

It will take us that long to wean.

No, I'm not still nursing.

But it seems like just yesterday I was.

When Googie was a little girl we used to talk often about her lack of a sister.

Maybe it was because I was so close to mine?

Whatever it was, she missed not having one.

And voiced it.

A lot.

And it made me feel sad and guilty.

Not so much that I wanted to give her one...but still, I do like to fix things.

Especially longings of my children.

One day a five year old Googie was being particularly sad about being sisterless.

And so on her pity pot was she that she also claimed she was friendless as well.

Of course seeing my daughter in such emotional distress I came up with an idea.

How bout I be her best friend and sister???

My name would be Betsy.

And we would have all kinds of sister fun.

And best friend fun.

When we were alone Googie would ask if Betsy could come over and play.

She and Betsy would jump on beds, eat ice cream covered with chocolate syrup and crushed Oreos for dinner.

They would color and sing.

And watch movies and build forts with the couch cushions.

And tell secrets.

Especially about hating boys.

Googie and Betsy were best friends, as sisters often are.

Over the years Betsy came often, well, whenever Googie needed her, she was there.

And like lots of things that sit on a shelf and remind us of our childhoods' Betsy has a place in Googie's heart.

And I know she always will.

Googie even made her a card the other day.

Googie and her class were making cards for people they love.

Here is the one she made for Betsy.

The oh so beautifully decorated envelope...and below, the card inside.

 "MOTHER DEAREST" ????

WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ?????????????????

And all this time I thought I had her fooled.

On being a senior

An unexpected perk of aging....

that is how Daddio has referred to his diminishing eye sight.

A couple of years ago we attended my oldest/bestest bud Joyce's parents 50th wedding anniversary celebration.

Joyce's older brother Martin was there. We hadn't seen each other in years and when he saw me at the party he said "Wow, you look great! I can't remember the last time I saw you. You don' t look like you've aged at all!!"

Daddio looked at Martin and said "Could I borrow those glasses you're wearing".

A veggie tale.....

Sunday, is a working day for us working folk.

Housecleaning, laundry, cooking, and of course the dreaded grocery shopping.

My God, I hate to grocery shop.

Especially since I've decided that we aren't eating healthy enough around here and I know what that entails.

A closer inspection of every damn thing that goes into my cart.

A closer examination of all the crap I usually feed my loved ones.

Hauling around extra healthy bottled water and a heart filled with guilt makes the trip even worse.

It's sooooo much easier to just throw in a bag of cookies, a couple of boxes of mac and cheese and call it a day.

Anyway, I was feeling out an avacado when I heard someone say something to me.

I looked up and in front of me was a young man who I recognized, but couldn't place.

A friend of Sweet Prince Buttercup's??? Bears??? Someone Googie knew?

"How are you Beth?" he asked me.

Who who who who who the heck are you? I thought.

And where do I know you from?

"I've been doing fine" I said. "how bout you?"

When he began to talk more I suddenly remembered who he was.

A kid from my program.

But wait...something had happened.

This was the face, the voice, the smile I remembered.

But gone was the dingy raggedly cut long black hair.

Gone were the seven (or more) rings that used to hang off his ears.

The stainless steel bolts that pierced his eyebrows, with skin and hair and perpetual redness around them...GONE.

Gone was the thick black ring that he wore in his lip.

He used to twirl it when he got into trouble.

It made my stomach hurt to see it go round and round.

He was always in a lot of trouble.

Gone were the angry chains and spikes that he used to wear around his wrists and neck.

And in a funny twist, gone were the grungy black shorts that he wore all winter, instead in this muggy August heat he wore a pair of light colored jeans.

And an American Eagle tee.

And his hair...my God, you should have seen his hair.

Light brown and cut in the most current "handsome young guy" look.

"Still on probation?" I asked.

He'd been taken out of our program when it was determined that he was not going to cooperate. He was not going to behave. He was not going to stop endangering himself and others.

He was the only kid our visiting chef ever almost laid his hands on.

He caught him eating raw stewing beef off the end of one of our butcher knives and chef came unglued.

He backed him against a wall and yelled like I've never heard him yell.

Jared was good for that kind of stuff.

The shock value of any action was his motivation.

The more outlandish, the more outrageous, the more he liked doing it.

To the other youth he was a Day Treatment hero.

To the staff, he was a mighty thorn in our sides.

A 6'4" inch thorn.

"Yeah, still on probation" he said "for another six months."

Obviously "placement" had been good for him.

"I'm on non reporting" he said.

I asked him about what his court order said and what the judge had him doing.

"Working and eventually going to college" he said.

Awesome, I thought to myself.

We talked for a couple more minutes and then I swear I wanted to reach up and give him a big hug...I was soooo proud of the new and obviously improved him.

Instead I offered a closed fist.

Which he bumped with his own.

"Take care kid" I said "and stop by school when you're in the area. I know the other staff would love to see this transformation you've had."

"We love to see our kids all grown up."

"I will Beth" he said "see ya around."

I don't remember much about the rest of my mundane Sunday grocery shopping.

I do remember catching people looking at me.

Probably wondering why this crazy fool woman was skipping around the fruits and vegetables.

Whistling and giggling.

And shaking her head.

Witnessing a miracle will do that kind of stuff to ya.

EDITED TO ADD....Don't anyone go getting their bloomers in a bunch..I have nothing against long black hair, spikes, piercings, tattoos, grungy clothing, etc etc etc, honestly, I don't...I do have something against angry, self destructing teens who make the world an unsafe place for themselves and others.


I try never judge a book by its cover.

Little women......

Saturday Centus time, 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 (bold) itallics...


I tipped into the muffled conversation, moving my body toward it.

“ I can‘t have any ice cream , I’m dieting” the blonde one said. “I’m waaaaaaay too fat already”.

“Yeah” said the other “I love chocolate so much, but I don’t want to be fat like a pig.”

“I like your eye shadow” the blonde one said.

“It’s the color of the belly button ring I want” the other one said.

“Did you do it yet?” the blonde one asked

“Maybe today” the other one answered “I want it before school starts back”.

I listened to them from my perch on the top step and didn't know whether to laugh or to cry...

They were, maybe, 11 years old.

The Jerry Lewis goat...

Sorry I could not resist....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwy1qGdQ424


(Can you not stop laughing????)

Bon appetit....

Hey happy Wednesday....

I was going to title this post Full Circle as I'd planned to bring you there.

Bring you where???

Sick to your stomach, and then back to sick to your stomach.

Then I decided...don't be a hater.

Don't give your loyal and very much appreciated readers a sick stomach two times in one day.

Okay, so I won't.

(Please, you don't need to bother with a Thank you note or anything.... ;-)

So here goes.....

Yesterday at the Donut Shop (my place of employment...not really a donut shop, but that's what my brother in law calls the factory where he works..when he leaves its "I'm off to the donut shop to make donuts" he likes to say...and since my mind is such a simple and easily fooled thing .. the Donut Shop it is)

Yesterday I had the oddest conversation at the Donut Shop....

No, we weren't taking about donuts....

But we did talk about eating.

About eating a placenta.

(I'll pause now, in case you need to grab a bucket or a trash can to deposit the contents that just rose in your throat).

You good?

Onward then...

One of the young guys I work with just celebrated the birth of his second son.

He told the group of us standing around shooting the bull this morning that his nursing wife was eating her placenta.

(I vaguely remember someone calling for "smelling salts"....)

When they picked me up off the floor, he explained,

After doing lots of research (that crazy ass Google) he and his wife determined that eating the placenta would be good for his wife's post partum depression, it also is reported to increase milk production and do a myriad of other healthful things for the person brave enough to eat it.

"HOW did she eat it" I asked

He told us they brought it home from the hospital, and found a lady who came over and made capsules from the placenta.

She pureed it, (still with me??) dehydrated it, then placed it into capsules.

Capsules his wife ingests.

Alrighty then....

I'll use the polite comment my grandpa used to use when he just didn't get a personal choice someone else had made...

"To each his own, I guess, Babe... to each his own."

Now, how bout a virtual palate cleanser...(that puke can't taste too good).

Coffee cake...

I promised you (and most specifically, my darling pen pal from England, Nicola) a coffee cake recipe...

(Click on the little baby if your eyes are as poor as mine and you can't read it bare naked)

I hope you like it....I love this cake, but then again, people eat all kinds of things that others wouldn't think of eating...so to each his own.

Bon appetit

In case you are a glutton for punishment...here is some additional information about eating your placenta....

(Not that you couldn't Google it yourself if you wanted to..., just trying to be a good hostess here for christsake goodness sake)

http://pregnancy.about.com/cs/placentas/a/placenta.htm

Lost.....

I hate to lose things.

Seriously, I lose things all the time.

And when I do I'm like a neurotic dog looking for a meaty bone.

Where are you sniff sniff where have you gone sniff sniff okay who the hell misplaced you sniff sniff who is the thief amongst us sniff sniff where oh where are you sniff sniff please St Tony (I'm on a nickname basis with him) help me out here sniff sniff....

Once when Daddio and I were first married I lost a check.

I'd planned to have him take it with him to work and deposit it at the bank at lunch time.

I'd written out a "how to" list for Daddio to use at the bank...

     1. Pull in when you see "National Bank of Detroit" (it will have a blue awning, big white letters).
     2. Walk in through the double doors with the papers I am about to give you.
     3. There will be people standing behind a high counter, when they offer to help you, give them the papers
          I have given to you....

Anyway, I'd just put the finishing touches on the how to list, (which was really more like a manual) when I discovered that I had no idea where I'd put the check.

Thus began a frantic search.

Which was going on when he left for work (about 8am).

And was still going on when he came home (about 5 pm).

When he walked in the door.I was still in my pajamas, hair uncombed, teeth unbrushed (I only did that one other time, when I started reading the book The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. It was so good I sat and read it straight through. I don't think I even stopped to pee. Daddio was more than a bit perturbed when he got home that night and not a damn thing had been done, no housework, no dinner, just a tissue holding dewy eyed wife in a serious emotion fest meltdown after finishing the last page).

(I can't say this time there wasn't a little Oprah or a nice leisurely lunch in there somewhere ...but still, for many, many hours I searched and searched and searched).

I did finally find the check.

It was in the garbage.

I blame Daddio for that one.

He throws all kinds of crap out...my wedding dress (the story of the missing wedding dress is a story for another day), my grandmother's antique lamp, his mother's antique typewriters.

He clearly has no appreciation for things of value, especially old things of value

I fully expect to one day find myself at the curb, dressed in a black garbage bag with a yellow tie around my neck....

I've asked the neighbors to kindly bring me inside when it happens.

On Friday afternoon I noticed that I lost a "follower".

If you are a blogger you know how incredibly horrible it is to lose a follower.

We don't come by them easily.

And it is how a successful blogger is defined.

I've worked especially hard to build my following... I write stuff, hit the "publish" button and then hope somebody gets a giggle...or a bit o water in their eyes...or a "wow...she sounds just like me" feeling....

Not everybody that visits your blog becomes a follower, most don't actually, so I guess that the very fact that they took the time to sign on as a follower propels them to VVIR (Very VERY Important Reader status)... anyone (and everyone) that stops by is important, don't get me wrong...but these people leave a card to let you know they've been to your place and they plan to come back.

Well, like I said a few rambling paragraphs ago...on Friday I lost a follower.

I'm pretty sure it was because I used the phrase "for christsake"....

I really thought I had myself covered when I didn't capitalize the Christ part of the phrase...in my (pea??) brain, that made it okay to say...not meant to be blasphemous,

or disrespectful.

Just a phrase choice.... and not one that I really even use.

I'm not going to lie... I do think that phrase a lot.

I just don't normally write it.

But Friday I did.

And I think I pissed someone off.

I guess I wasn't a good hostess.

My home felt unwelcoming, dirty even.

Like I had a stinky mangy unkempt dog that kept trying to hump their leg.

Or worse yet, a pubic hair on my kitchen table.

Yuck... this lady is clearly a pig and I won't be coming back to her house.

EVER.

Losing that follower made me feel bad.

If you've ever seen a hair on my table, or I've allowed my dirty dog to mistreat you, or you just feel plainly offended by my bad breath, my word choice, whatever, I want to apologize.

I need to say too that I have to be myself, my true self...full of imperfections, bad words, frustrations, and on it goes.

I want to be your go to blog girl.

I want to be a good hostess and I always hope you want to come back to my place and visit.

I want to have faithful readers and followers.

I want to keep them too.

I am sorry if I offended you.

You are going to be missed.

You can run, but you can't hide....

Saturday Centus time, 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 (bold) itallics...

I bought one of those cheesy DVD’S Carmella, my therapist, suggested. “I am good enough” it says “and dog gone it people like me.” or something to that effect.

So I do as I’m told and look into the mirror and say those goofy sentiments till I’m ready to hurl the mouthwash bottle at the person looking back.

 "Things change" Carmella says "and people change. You can escape your past and make a new start”.

Her face reddens and her nostrils flair when I always reply “ and objects in the rear view mirror are closer than they appear" as I hand her the check. “Same time next week?” she asks.

Bear goes to Boston....

"Can I go to Boston?" read the text I received yesterday at 2:45 pm in the middle of my Culinary Arts Class.

Wow, I hoped thought, wrong number.

I once before got a wrong number text.

(Googie told me not to respond, that people screw around with people like that.)

Then my work phone rang.

"Did you get my text?" Bear asked.

"You want to go to Boston?" I asked

"Boston, as in the state Boston? (my very intelligent co-workers glanced at me kind of funny when I said that..forcing me to clarify..)

"I mean, as in Massachusetts.... You want to go to Boston, Massachusetts????"

Have you been sniffing glue?

"Seriously....you want to go to Boston?"

He gave me the details and I told him I'd call his dad and call him right back.

"He never asked to go on any Girls Gone Totally Wild sex/tattoo/multiple body piercing a thon Spring Break trip" I reminded Daddio.

"And he's never been in one bit of trouble"

What the hell was I doing here??? I was talking Daddio into agreeing to let Bear leave the country.

Fly to the moon.

Be swallowed up by a tesseract...a sort of "wrinkle in time" in space and time, a fifth dimension.

"I will need every one of their full names (including any alias's), phone numbers, addresses, MySpace Facebook and any YouTube account info" I told Bear about his travel companions.

"I want parent's names too"... (a quick credit check couldn't hurt).

When everyone checked out okay and Bear got the go ahead it was a mad dash to get packed, secure some flow (that will probably be stolen when he is robbed and raped in some filthy germ infested rest stop along the way) and do all the things one does when leaving out of town.

"We don't have a small tube of toothpaste MOMMMMMMMMMMMM" Bear screamed into the phone, it was the 27th call he made to me at work, in the 45 minutes he had to get ready to leave.

This trip on the fly was starting to grate on my nerves.

"I don't know if I want to go" Bear said on call number 29.

And again with call number 32.

"FLIP A FREAKIN ASS COIN AND DO WHATEVER THE FRICK IT TELLS YOU TO DO OKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKAY?" I yelled, when he called again to tell me he wasn't sure.

A second later when a screwdriver stabbed me in the heart (be nice to him you idiot, if you let him go and God forbid something happens.....) I got control of myself....

"Sweeeeetheart" I purred "this is an adventure. You are going to have a blast. Make a decision, figure that there are going to be pros and cons, just like every other decision you are ever gonna make. Once you make a decision you will feel better. Just make one, make up your mind and go with whatever it is that you decide. Have some confidence in yourself. GO or DON'T GO, decide. Now, are you going to Boston or not?"

"I don't know" Bear said "should I?"

For cryinoutloud .......

OF COURSE YOU SHOULD NOT GO....an accident could happen, you guys could get so lost that you'd never make it back.

Boston is far kid, really really far.

(One step closer out the door you go.)

I'll miss you Bear, be safe and hurry home.

And don't forget, hide your money in your sock....

(I will age 20 years this weekend, guaranteed)

"My beautiful beautiful beautiful beau...ti...fulllll boooooooy"

Daddio and I always wanted three kids.

He came from three kids.

I came from three kids.

Three kids just seemed like a good number.

Then I had the Sweet Prince Buttercup....

And 23 months later Googie Monster made her entrance.

S P Buttercup was like having 6 children.

And Googie just rolled with the flow.

So for a couple of years after the two of them were born Daddio and I were content with having 7 children.

And then my brother John died in a horrible accident.

And that left just me and Susan.

And I spent lots of time wondering how awful it would be if my mother had only had two children.

And I was left sibling less.

Or Susan was left sibling less.......

I told Daddio that I wanted our third baby.

Now.... I didn't have him to replace my brother.

I had him because I realized that I felt like something was missing.

When I found out that I was carrying a boy....

I wigged out for a minute or two....

Another boy could mean 6 more children.

So with this one and Buttercup and Googie I was going to be a mother of 13.

I didn't have the patience to mother 13.

It was hard enough many days with just the 7 I already had.

I went into labor with my darling Bear at 1am.

Just after Daddio and his friend and I watched an episode of Saturday Night Live.

For a late night snack we'd had White Castle (for those of you living outside of Michigan White Castle is a little burger joint that sells theeee most addicting teenytiny flat square hamburgers for about a dime apiece...being so cheap and small you are compelled to buy at least a dozen to eat at one setting....If by chance you should ever visit I implore you to only sample one...or make sure you are very near a bathroom, as Daddio says "those babies work fast").

I was a glutton that night and in addition to a cheeseburger (or five) I ate some of their onion chips.

Onion chips....

You know the charcoal they feed you at the hospital when you ingest something horrible and poisonous....

and you need to throw-up???

I was looking for an "at home" version around midnight that night.

(I have to stop, my stomach is getting sick)

Anyway, I credit those damn awful onion chips with starting my labor.

Daddio and his friend "Dah" had had a couple of beers (not so many that driving would be an issue)....

His friend laughs and likes to tell the story this way.... I came into the room and (I Love Lucy style) told Daddio "it is time" and according to his friend (he swears this to be true) Daddio grabbed my suitcase and ran outside and then backed out the drive...

alone.

According to "Dah" I opened the door and waved at the excited father to be, letting him know he was forgetting something.

This new baby boy and I spent lots of time together....he was (and is) a joy.

And most days he was like having only 3 children.

So he and Googie and Buttecup equaled only 10 children.

And I like even numbers.

Today my baby turns 19...how did the time go so fast?

He had his girlfriend over last night and I couldn't make over him like I usually do at bedtime the day before a birthday.

Instead I left him a note on his pillow.

When I'm long gone I hope he will follow this tradition.

No matter where I am, living or dead, he and I have a date at 3:33 am on the 4th day of August.

It's not legal to eat people...

but couldn't you just eat this kid up????

Up town...as promised

You may recall (if you read the dribble I write on this blog) that I made a promise to write the second of my two up town stories.

In case your not one of the many hundreds (well, actually thousands really) Not All Who Wander Are Lost blog readers/fans (I'm makin myself sick here)...who read the first up town post here it is...

Up town was what my grandmother called the heart of her city. Every year she brought my sister and I to her house to attend the big street/art fair they had in July.

This year, like all the others we were soooo anxious to get there and get the fun started that we were driving my grandma nuts.

Me, Susan (hammin it up as usual)

 and (pint sized) Grandma K

This particular year we had guests tagging along.

They were my grandmother's sisters in law.

A set of creepy twins that looked EXACTLY like her husband (our step grandfather) in frizzy bun wigs.....

(If you are thinking YIKES, you'd be right).

They were given the names of the months, May and June....and if it's not just a figment of my overactive imagination..I'm thinking they had another sister named April...(mom, is this true, or is my mind wandering again???)

Seriously....

The twins were large women who both had a fondness for chain smoking cigarettes they let dangle from their lips.

Dangle with ashes at least an inch long.

The cigarettes bounced up and down like mini diving boards when they talked.

I spent countless minutes mesmerized by those dipping ashes.

Wondering just exactly how long it would take them to jump.

The twins had a great fondness for liquid beverages too.

Especially beverages that go by the names beer and whiskey.

I'd never seen the twins in the light of day.

Usually I'd only seen them at night time card parties.

Where Susan and I would watch them out of the corner of our eyes.

They were fascinating characters.

Too much drinking and too many smokes and we had ourselves a little party.

This year the twins were going up town with us.

I remember walking to the fair and thinking how different my grandma was from her sisters in law.

While they were tall and loud, she was 4'11" (or maybe less) and very soft spoken.

They cussed like foul mouthed sailors.

And cackled with deep, raspy laughs.

Because we were young, Susan and I hung pretty close to grandma and the twins once we got up town.

It was still a lot of fun.

We bought all kinds of fair goodies to eat and spent lots of our grandma's money trying unsuccessfully to win cute stuffed animals.

Our young uncle's band was putting on a show at the fair at noon this particular day and when it was near starting time we made our way through the crowds toward the center of town.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, one of these

appeared....

and ran over Susan.

Yes, I did write ran over Susan.

As it plowed into the two of us, I was pushed aside, but it threw Susan to the ground.

She was trapped under the front wheel of the tractor train.

She was in shock and having trouble breathing.

I remember people around us hollering and I remember the split seconds when no one knew exactly what to do.

My petite grandma knew what to do.

She ran to the side where Susan was pinned and like a 400 lb body builder she squatted down and put her shoulder under the front of the tractor. She rose up, anchored her tiny legs sideways and lifted the tractor off of Susan's chest. 

When the tire lifted off of Susan my grandma used her short leg to kick her out from underneath.

When she was far enough to not be squished again my grandma let the train fall to the ground.

The people around us cheered.

My grandma stood up,

straightened herself out,

brushed the mess from the front of her shirt,

and then.....

she passed out.

An ambulance came and checked Susan and grandma over and once they were proclaimed "un broken" we went on our merry way....

We were treated as mini celebrities the rest of the weekend.

The creepy twins were abuzz, they kept mentioning "owning that fair.".........over and over and over

and they smoked cigarette after cigarette looking exactly like my grandpa with lipstick on.

Creepy.

( Tractor photo stolen borrowed from "moonlakeshow dot org")