Mama...a rainbow (song), a quote, and a poem (just for you, from me)

In the Publisher's Clearing House Trillion Dollar Grand Prize Sweepstakes (Of Life) I am a winner.

I'm not the only winner...a couple of sisters and a couple of brothers are winners too.

When I was small I used to think that I somehow chose my mother.

Like picking out the best ice cream flavor at Baskin Robbins.

You have to be choosy when you can only pick one.

Okay, so if I didn't hand pick her, then God did.

And seriously, jeez, I don't know how, but I sure must be on his good side.

He doesn't just send anybody "the best of the best".

Either way, I lucked out,

I lucked out big time.

When I think of how it is that I became to belong to my mother I like being more on the dreamy/fate side when talking about the gift of "her"...a sperm/egg meeting just doesn't cut it...(and most of us can't entertain "that" thought anyway w/o almost puking, no matter how old we are...right? ewwwww)

Okay so on to my angel mother...

I'm not going to go on and on telling you what a wonderful mother I have.

Those of you who know her, know how awesome, one of a kind-ish, she most certainly is.

Susan (my sister, the one who doesn't read this blog) has a favorite song that she would like to dedicate to our mother.

For years she's been trying somehow to incorporate this song into a "gift" for our Marmie.

The other night it was suggested that Googie sing this for grandma.

Now Googie loves her grandmother, she loves her dearly (like no other) but there was no way (no way in hell) she was going to warble this little ditty, (she'd never ever heard it and she is a perfectionist so no way was this gonna happen with no advance rehearsal) especially to be preserved on a video tape (that could be used later, blackmail style)...so I thought I'd just print the lyrics.

So for you Marmie with love from Susan ( your daughter that doesn't read this blog) ......

ME!!!

Mama, a rainbow...
What do you give to the lady who has given
All her life and love to you
What do you give to the reason you are livin'
I could window shop the world
Before I'm through

Mama, a rainbow
Mama, a sunrise
Mama, the moon to wear
That's not good enough
No not good enough
Not for Mama

Mama, a palace
Diamonds like door knobs
Mountains of gold to spare
That's not rich enough
No not rich enough
Not for Mama

Mama, a life time crowded with laughter
That's not long enough
Not half long enough

What can I give you
That I can give you
What will your present be
Mama, young and beautiful
Always young and beautiful
That's the Mama I'll always see...
That's the Mama with love from me

What can I give you
What will your present be
Mama, young and beautiful
Always young and beautiful
That's the Mama I'll always see...
That's the Mama with - love - from - me...


 All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother. ~Abraham Lincoln 

Mother and Daughter

We're daughter and mother
Not so long ago.
We give and take
And take and give
Along time's endless row.
Love is passed
And love received
To be passed on again:
A precious heirloom
Twice, twice blessed,
A spiritual cardigan.

I'll put it on
And treasure it,
The me I have received,
And when the roles
Reverse again,
I'll have what I most need.

So may our love
Go on and on,
A hundred thousand years;
Mothers and daughters,
Daughters and mothers,
Through joys and other tears.
--- Anonymous

Happy birthday (2-27) to the most wonderful of mothers....

Here's lookin at you kid.... xoxoxoxox

MAMA...ALWAYS YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL

PS...mom, don't tell Susan (the one who doesn't read this blog) that I sent you a rainbow for your birthday..she'll kick my ass rear.

I love you!

DISCLAIMER...I'd better protect my life and limb be kind and write that Susan, my sister (TheOneWhoDoesn'tReadThisBlog) dedicates the above song to our mother. Just coverin my ass sayin...

Someone to watch over me....

I'm not gonna lie, I've skipped the last two weeks of Jenny Matlock's Saturday Centus because I had a case (a rather severe case) of Saturday Centus Writer's Block...and when you can't do a quality entry, well then maybe you shouldn't do one at all..so I couldn't and I didn't.

Anyway, this week it didn't take me 17 hours to think of a contribution and so I went with it...

The post is a themed writing project challenge taken from Jenny Matlock over at off on my tangent.

Jenny says we can use UP to 100 words to tell a story. It can be fact or fiction. Jenny posts a few words, a prompt that we work from.

As always the prompt is in bold italics.


The ATM machine began dispensing twenties which Zack quickly folded in half and stuck in his pocket.The money burned. Barely 6 weeks a rehab grad, Zack headed for an all too familiar neighborhood, seeking answers to his pain. At a red light a tap on his window brought him face to face with a toothless woman, pulling her life in a grocery cart. “Hungry” she mouthed to Zack. He dug in his pocket and surprised them both when he handed her all his money. “ I believe in angels” she said patting his hand. “Me too” said Zack making a u-turn and heading toward home.

February 24th

Two reasons to love today...it is Thursday (my Friday) and it's the 24th.

The 24th? you may find yourself thinking "what exactly is significant about the 24th?"

Not a damn thing in the real scheme of things...however,

24 is my favorite number, next to the number 17 it is the best and the most lucky.

You may find yourself further wondering...what kind of whack job writes a blog post about her favorite number?

Her favorite lucky number(s)...?

Who writes shit like that expecting others to read it..?

February 24th...

Two days ago we celebrated my sister Susan's birthday.

I made her 50 cupcakes in honor of her turning the big (FAT, REALLY OLD) 5-0.

She sent me home with about 36 of those deliciously frosted babies.

I've been eating about one an hour.

Yesterday I made a couple hundred sugar cookies.

I've been putting them on top of the cupcakes..(added fiber)

and chowing the pair.

I wish we could wear sweats to work...that may be all I can fit into this morning.

How is it that when you're dieting you don't feel a difference in the waistband of your bloomers for weeks, yet when you are pounding cupcakes topped with cookies the expansion of your waist and tightening (bordering on waist strangulation) of your pants is instantaneous..??

How is that...?

February 24th...

Time keeps on slippin' slippin' slippin' into the future...

here it is almost March and we are not making much progress on Googie and Trouble's wedding planning.

My other sister (the organized one) called and lit a large fire under my arse...

"This is you..." she said

(Image borrowed from Instigator Blog(dot)com)

"Your lack of movement is stressing your kid out".

Well, she didn't really say exactly THAT, but she implied it.

Upon further investigation...

Mick...I believe you may have a valid point.

Holy shit...it is ALREADY February 24th.

Time keeps on slippin' slippin' slippin' into the future.

(Googie, if you are reading this, RELAX Dahling..mama is all over it)

(Googie, if you are reading this, RELAX Dahling..Aunt Mickey is all over it)!

(Praise God and Halleluiah !!!!!)

Not all SuperHeros wear boots...

Yesterday while driving out of our work parking lot heading for home Googie and I saw a car tipped over sideways.

It had slid into a huge drainage ditch.

As we drove by I noticed a young girl in the passenger seat.

I assumed that she was waiting for help and that the driver had probably gone inside our building searching for some.

She had a cell phone to her ear and as we passed and made eye contact I could see that she was crying.

"Stop" I told Googie "let me check on that girl".

When I got to the car I learned that she was alone and very scared.

She'd moved into the passenger seat to prevent weighing down the driver's side and having the car tip over further.

She explained that was on the phone with her mother, who was stuck at home without another vehicle.

I looked around the almost bare parking lot and wondered just how many people passed this girl and her disabled car as they exited the parking lot...?

Hmmm, that kind of crap burns me up.

We are all in this together...right?

I called one of my coworkers to see if he could help.

Within a couple of minutes the doors opened and a posse of about 6 guys came to our rescue.

The guys peeked and pointed, plotted and planned.

It was interesting seeing their thought processes become words/ideas/actions.

They argued and debated creating one scenario after another as to what might happen to the car if they did a, b or c..

Googie offered to sit in the driver's seat to turn the wheel and gun the car as needed.

Finally after a half hour debate and some serious "lets give it our all"  (in some damn ass frigid weather) the guys came to the conclusion that "dis car ain't goin nowhere"...

And a tow truck had to be called.

We had a couple of stops before going home, as we ran our errands Goog and I made small talk with clerks and strangers who were equally screwed during this recent snow/ice/sleet storm aptly named (by my friend) Snowmageddon.

One told tale of being stranded on a freeway and having a truck pull up and it's inhabitants ask if she wanted their help..why, yes of course, she needed some help ... so before the truck driver did a thing he asked her "you got a little something for me...?

Sonofabitch...

The woman telling the story said she offered to pay Mr. Popmous-AssMoFo five dollars, it was all she had in her wallet.

(we think it was money he was asking for...then again, you never know)

Well five bucks wasn't enough for this good Samaritan..so he left her stuck and stranded and went about his merry way to help someone with a bit more to offer him.

When I hear a story like that one thing comes to mind...KARMA.

Just as we were making our second to last stop Googie and I ran into another stuck car...this time there was a young couple inside.

"Mom" Googie said jumping from our parked car "lets do it"...

We are WOMEN (after all) hear us roar...(tee-hee).

So we pushed and we pulled, rocked and rolled and at one point during this courageous rescue Googie looked like she was shaggin...(for those not living in a gawd forsaken frozen wasteland like Michigan at the moment "shaggin" is bumper riding, which is to hang onto a moving car's bumper and "ski" along a patch of ice and/or snow...a "sport" mostly enjoyed by idiots young guys.)

By the time we got that car out, Googie's cute hair was a mess. Her beautiful  red wool coat was dirty and her ballet slipper shoes were covered in snow..

Googie's teeth chattered she was soooo cold.

Later, I lectured her about the importance of a good pair of snow boots, especially valuable while performing SuperHero antics.

She payed me no attention at all.

Snowmageddon 0 Googie 2

Googie's winter foot attire... I was happy she choose to wear these instead of her usual flip flops.

When they shoooot across the sky sky sky....

William Shakespeare said,

 "Who knows himself a braggart,
 Let him fear this, for it will come to pass,
 that every braggart shall be found an ass"....

so what does he know?

Yesterday I sat in this theater, last row, aisle seat and watched Googie perform.

I've sat in this same theater and others similar and watched her too many times to count.

"Did you see Molly fall during the tug of war scene?" Googie asked me.

"No, I didn't see it" I answered.

"How could you not?

She fell and then slid across the floor.

And then in total Molly fashion she recovered,  flashed the audience a wink. and a "thumbs up"
...
How did you miss that?" she asked.

Well let me tell you, if you really want to know how it is that I usually miss most of a show...

There is a shining light on the stage that catches and draws all my attention to it each and every time I sit in the audience at one of your shows.

The light is all that is perfect in my world.

My sunshine.

My pride and joy.

Okay, I'll be honest here, when I come to watch one of your shows I can't take my eyes off of my perfect creation.

My mas-ter-piece.

the chef-d'oeuvre...

So don't all mothers think it is for their child that the sun shines...?

Well of course they do...

I always knew, that I knew, that my kids were all that.

But now I realize that I do have a serious bragging problem.

And I'm sure it can get rather annoying.

A niece of mine has been preparing for a Culinary Arts cooking contest.

She's been expressing to any and all within hearing distance her stress over this upcoming event, her shaky confidence, her "why do I do this to myself?" mentality.

I squealed into the phone when I got a call telling me that she'd won first place.

First FREAKIN PLACE...people!!!

I literally danced in my seat.

This family of mine,  the one filled with actors, and musicians, and star athletes,

and people worthy of newspaper articles,

and medals and awards and honors,

Class Presidents, First Place holders, District Champs, Regional Champs, Student of the year, US Marines, Firefighter... I could go on... and on and on!!

HOT FREAKIN DAMN.... I GOTTA CROW....

Not only are these kids of "mine" incredibly incredible they are more than just the sum of their flashy accomplishments.

They are really really good hearted people too.

The Sweet Prince Buttercup's beloved told me the other day that he spends all his change daily.

Figures, I thought, that is why he claims to never have a dime to his name.

"What does he do with it" I asked thinking she would say he buys smokes, or expensive lattes, or maybe she'll tell me he throws it out the window because it makes too much noise jingling around in the cup holder...?

"He buys the homeless guys that hang out by his work hamburgers every day." she said.

It just tickles me sooooooooooooooooooooo.... I GOTTA CROW!

And when I think sometimes that the world has gone to shit,

I take a look at the young people in my life,

the ones connected to me by blood or step-blood,

the ones living in my heart by choice,

the one that yell their awesomeness from the mountain tops...

the fireworks,

the ones that shoot across the sky sky sky

and make us go oooh oooh oooh,

and I must include the ones that whisper their greatness,

by quietly feeding a hungry man.

Summertime....ohhh sweet summertime (please hurry)

HOLY SHIT CRAP I am SOOOOO ready for some warm weather.

I want to lay on the floor of my living room and listen to the birds (or the loud ass neighbors bickering) while a soft breeze (filled with the other's neighbors obnoxious fire pit fumes) gently blows my hair.

I want to look out the window and see green grass (and hooptie cars parked all up and down my street blocking an otherwise pretty view of nothing).

I want to curl up on the old green rocker that sits on my front porch, book in hand, mind in book (don't talk to me people, I am here, but I am not).

I want to take a nice long evening walk (and PEEP into the windows of your home to see if it is as messy as mine or decorated nicer) with my good pal who lives around the block, we can talk flowers (or bitch about the men, like we usually do).

I wonder why it is that whatever season we are in we are anxiously awaiting the next.

And hating the weather and the current circumstances.

One of the mysteries of life, I guess.

Come back in a few days, I may have removed the wild hair that appears to have climbed up my ass.

Spring fever sucks. (what I really need is a box of Lorna Doones and bottle of Jack).

Carry on.

Fluck it all.

Have a wonderful dreaming of summer day!!!

(Marmie, I am good, just pinning for summer, or in the throes of mental-pause which may or may not have a hold on me).

Happy holiday....

I complained once (as a relatively new bride) to my grandmother that a young Daddio didn't bring me things on Valentine's Day.

Things like flowers, candy, cards or jewelry...she told me that she too had married a real romantic guy, one who in many many years of marriage brought her a heart shaped box of candy, once.

She also told me that he never kissed her in public.

Or held her hand when others may be looking.

She told me that one time she asked him why?

"Look at Lina and Jack" she said to him referring to a couple they hung out with "they are always holding hands".

"Lina has to hold his hand to keep it from bustin her in the chops" was my grandfather's response.

I remember asking my grandmother "so you don't care that you don't get presents on Valentines Day and you don't care that your husband won't show his affection for you in public?"

"Your grandfather treats me like a queen" she said "I know it, he knows it, gifts and public affection are for show."

She then went on to school me that I had a good man, who treated me right.

"It's how he cleans off your car, and warms it up in the winter, that's the kind of stuff that matters" she reminded me.

"You tell me how he lays his pay check on the dresser every Friday night and tells you "here's your money" with a big proud, smile on his face."

"And" she added "He chooses to come home to you every night and not stop and blow all his pay at the bar on his way home from work.

"That's the stuff that really counts"

"He is good to you 365 days a year."

"When you have a good man, every day is Valentine's Day" she told me.

So don't ask me tomorrow what I got for Valentine's Day.....Daddio and I don't celebrate :-)

A very private, yet very lovely, love story....
(He agreed to kiss her in public on their 50th wedding anniversary, all those in attendance, blushed)

This could be what Heaven looks like...

Yesterday was a day I'd been dreading for weeks...

My anxiety was so bad I was up at 3am thinking of ways in which Murphy's Law was going to ruin my life.

We would run out of food, the tables holding the vats of delicious soups would buckle under the weight of said soups and the whole damn thing would fall to the ground, all 15,000 ounces of soup on the floor.

And when I prayed that image out of my head, another took it's place.

A hair, a looooooooong seemingly never-ending hair being pulled (slow motion) from the CEO's mouth.

(And of course, he'd be addressing the huge crowd from a podium, atop a large stage so everyone in the place would see him attempt to extract the hair that had wrapped itself around his uvula. He'd cough and hack like a cat)...

Ohhh my goodness, such silly thoughts.

Stuff like that doesn't happen.

Okay then...maybe one of the thugs would tell one of the guests to F*** off...ahhh, yes, now that could happen.

Now were on to a bona-fied worry.

When I finally lifted my sleep deprived weary can out of bed to begin my day the real anxiety set in.

Like a big, overfilled, about to explode teen pimple my neurosis threatened to pop and spew pus yellow all over everywhere... (yuck, I know, but that is how I felt)

I gave the loveables a speech about how they were a reflection of me and my program. How they were to put away all cell phones ("God help the fool who takes out his phone in front of me" I told them). How I expected them to be mature, and not to swear, no matter how mad or frustrated they got...

The speech was long (and probably very very annoying).

Oh well, the zoo keeper has to do what the zoo keeper has to do...right?

So the loveables and the other staff and I put the finishing touches on our event.

Almost show time...

Around this time I could feel something very strange starting to happen...

The loveables weren't as unhappy as I thought they would be when I handed them the serving Chef's coats I wanted them to wear.

And they actually agreed to wear the white Chef's hats I handed them too.

Then they smiled and mugged for a couple of pictures.

(And no one flipped anyone off...WOW)

A couple of loveables were situated behind the two long tables of soup.

Ladle and smile I instructed.

Another couple were seated behind the cupcake table.

Describe the various flavors and smile I instructed.

One loveable had to be sent home....

His "fu** you dawg, I ain't doin shi*" directed toward me when I suggested he listen to the other staff sealed the deal..

"Buh bye (dumbass) we don't need none like you around here today pal."

One loveable had to leave...

"I just puked in the bathroom" he told me, looking pale and feverish.

"Go stand over there" (in Ohio) I said pointing toward the door.

One last loveable sat out in the hallway, dressed in an outdoor hoody and a vest, with his cell phone in his hand... his rotten mood spilling out and threatening to ruin what was turning into a perfect day.

(Anyone got any superglue..? I wanna make sure this dufus stays put!!)

We left him alone.

One loveable I asked to be The Dining Room Manager.

Do you know what it feels like to get a home run, a three pointer, a field goal and an Academy Award all in one day...?

I think I do.

The Dining Room Manager marched this amazing group of loveables into MamaBethKoby's heart for all of eternity.

He charmed the crowds as he described (in wonderful CORRECT yummy sounding detail) the 6 different soups.

He walked around table to table and spot checked on the eating guests.

He refilled drinks.

He delivered forgotten napkins and he wore a bar towel on his left shoulder, just in case he witnessed a knocked over.

This kid STOLE THE SHOW...

I heard compliment after compliment after compliment after compliment about ALL my loveables and our event.

Have I died and gone to Heaven...?

Surely I must have.

Because this was one sweet azz day....!

Thank you for listening....

A tale of tickle-ly bangs and perfectionism...

Susan (you may know her as my sister, the one who doesn't read this blog) came over last night..

Susan and her children visiting on a Sunday night is an unusual occurrence.

This day there was a small emergency.

Seems her boy child got tired of his blond bangs tickling his eyebrows and he took matters into his own tiny hands, using his craft scissors he cut a chunk of bang hair right off at the scalp..

(Well, not exactly that short, there was about a half inch of hair at his hairline).

When they first walked in the door and I got a good look at his handy work I tried hard not to laugh.

When I asked him what ever may have possessed him to barber himself..he answered.."SHE said I could!!!" pointing at his mother.

His mother, looking down, nodded her head in agreement.

Then to defend herself she said "I didn't think he'd really do it".

Good thing he didn't ask to sled off the roof.

Or barbecue the dog.

My tiny nephew wanted a Mohawk cut...impossible, since he'd cut the chunk out of the front.

I did the best I could to salvage his look and when I got done he looked in the mirror and said it was "good".

He then buried his head in his mother's lap and loudly whispered "IT'S SHORT!!!!".

I almost put on my Holier Than Thou outfit to chastise my poor (trusting) sister..

Giving unwanted advice... "keep the scissors hidden" and "I'd break those little fingers off his body if he were mine" and all kinds of helpful stuff like that.

I was about to let her know that things like that don't happen to perfect families like mine and Daddio's....homes with perfect children and their perfect parents.

Then suddenly I remembered the time I came home from work to find a hunk of Googie's hair missing.

The Sweet Prince Buttercup was implicated immediately as the perpetrator in the crime.

He'd recently been gifted some left handed scissors from his Godmother who felt sorry that the poor boy couldn't cut a thing with our regular "right-handed" pair.

Daddio was on kid duty the day Googie got a haircut from her brother.

I noticed the missing hair the second I laid eyes on my tiny girl.

"What the heck happened?" I demanded to know, pointing to the spot on Googie's head where her hair had gone missing.

Daddio was dumbfounded!

He had no idea what happened.

No idea when it happened.

Kids gone wild with scissors.

"Good thing he didn't grab a permanent marker and draw her a mustache to go with the trim" I remember hollering.

Well, at least my nephew had permission.

Good thing he didn't ask to borrow the car ;-)

(I'm not worried Susan will get mad at me for telling this little story...she doesn't read this blog, remember.

And really, if she wanted to, Susan could certainly tell a tale or five hundred about my (not so) perfect children and their (not so) perfect (incredibly gullible and stupid) mother... but she'd never dog me out that like).

There are two morals to the this story...

(1).. People living in glass houses shouldn't throw stones

and

(2).. Just say "no".... it doesn't even matter what they are asking you.

Pants on fire.....

This post is a themed writing project challenge taken from Jenny Matlock over at off on my tangent.
Jenny says we can use UP to 100 words to tell a story. It can be fact or fiction. Jenny posts a few words, a prompt that we work from. This weeks prompt is in bold italics.

Why didn’t you answer my call? Mona asked twirling her wedding band.

“I was in a meeting” Pin’s eyes squinted as he answered.

“An all DAY MEETING???” Mona voice rose as the sentence continued, “I RANG YOUR CELL AT LEAST 36 TIMES!!!!

Mona sniffed Pin‘s collar “YOOOOU SMELL LIKE PERFUME!!!” she accused.

“I SMELL LIKE THE BATHROOM SOAP!!!!” Pin defended himself gathering Mona tight to his chest.

Gently, cautiously he whispered comforting, caring words.

Momentarily smoothing her feelings and suspicions.

Out of the corner of her eye Mona saw a shadow,

It was growing bigger by the minute...

“Pinocchio!!!” Mona screeched “Where were you today???”

I had a dream...

lots of dreams really.

Mostly daydreams, I guess,

about the kind of life I wanted.

I dreamt about having a couple of kids and a real fine husband.

A nice house.

Loyal, good friends.

In my dreams I never thought that there would be times when I'd want to rip my red hair out by its brown roots.

Or jump off a high cliff.

If there were any high cliffs near my nice house.

I never imagined that there would be sickness and sad times, deaths or disasters.

Or just regular day in and day out headaches.

And hassles and irritations bigger than the whole outdoors.

So the part of my dreams that have come true (the fine man, the great kids, the nice house, fab peeps) make it all worth it, I guess.

And like a caption under a picture of Jesus on my fridge that says "I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it"... I sometimes just have to go with the flow.

Even if the flow is a bit tsunamic in nature.

(PS...to Marmie, nothing is wrong, your daughter is just feeling sorry for herself, for no particular reason, other than maybe she is menopausal and possibly hormonal and trying to navigate this crazy ass Mr. Toad's Wild Ride called life..so really, nothing is wrong, except everything, but not really, okay? I am totally just suffering from Manic Depressive Disorder or mood disorder due to a general medical condition or it could be a true episode of bipolar disorder a tiny bit of winter blahs... So don't worry).

TGIFAF...Thank God it's freakin ass Friday.

It's a new day..it's a new dawn ;-)

Note to self...make sure you do a spell check before you hit the publush publesh publish button.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Well the sky fell a bit, but nothing like the Chicken Little weather forcasters here in Michigan said it would.

Figures.

Who cares... I have a snow day and not a damn thing to do...unless you count cleaning, laundry and some serious television watching.  other stuff that I'm sure I can find around here to do.

Looking out the window this morning had me thinking of all the fun the kids and I used to have on snow days.

I miss them being little...what I don't miss is seeing them pull out of the driveway with snowboards strapped to the hood of their car and thoughts of how their pearl colored bones would look sticking out of the skin of their (used to be) perfect legs when they slipped off those horrible boards and took an unexpected tumble down a  huge mountain of snow and ice.

Head first of course...

Be still my beating heart...(dos days be over).

The Sweet Prince Buttercup experiencing his first big snow.

No, this is not Randy ("he laid there like a slug, it was his only defense") from A Christmas Story...it's darling Googie, ready for the hills. She just oozes pink, doesn't she?

Where the hell are these poor children's hats and gloves? 

(It was all a ploy to get them back into the house faster.)

Bear and his snow parents.

Okay... times have changed. My babies have grown and the couple still hanging out in Daddio's and my nest have no interest in playing outside in the snow with their mommy...what does a former Entertainment Committee President do with all that extra time on her hands on an official snow day...?

Why she takes her other kid out to play...

As you can tell...we had loads of fun. ;-)