Now That I'm Someone Else

Follow me...............

2009-11-04T19:06:00.000-08:00

If you are here, go here http://sunnynovelist.wordpress.com/ That's where the rest of my blog will be. See ya soon!

Word of the day- Wonky

2009-11-04T15:14:00.000-08:00

Wonky- turned or twisted to one side
not right
askew

Today, at work, during a very, very long, boring conference call ( I had two of them today) I was surfing the web.

Yes, on company time, shoot me. I had my phone muted as I read the news, listening with one ear in case my expertise was needed.

Headline "Man gets three years for sex with horse."

Me- Oh my God Joyce, listen to this, "Man gets three years for sex with horse."

Joyce- What are you looking at over there?

Me- The news, can you believe that?

Joyce- Wait, was it a girl horse or a boy horse?

Me- And it matters, why?

Joyce- Well, I'm trying to picture it.

Me- Stop picturing it, that's just gross. Oh my God, they got it on video tape, he
was convicted of first degree buggery.

Joyce- Buggery? I don't want to know what these people do. Where was that?

Me- North Carolina, where we are going to live on the beach after I publish my book.

Joyce- I'm not going there, see what those people do?

Me- (still reading the news) This was the second time he was caught with the same
horse. He had to register as a sex offender. A sex offender? Really? He's on
the same list with the rapists and pedophiles? Do they list his offense? Sex
a horse. Will he be allowed to live near farms? Why the same horse twice? Was
it the only horse around or was she asking for it, twitching her tail at him
with that come hither look in her eyes?
Joyce- That's it, I'm staying in my house, people are crazy.

Wonky- not just for people anymore.

I don't wanna grow up

2009-10-27T15:55:00.000-07:00

I don't wanna grow up and you can't make me! Bet my mother has never heard that before. Remember when you were younger and every sentence started with.... When I'm 18 I'm gonna...stay up late, eat candy for breakfast and dinner, stay out after dark, ride my bike in the street, not go to school, kiss the boys, run with scissors, what ever it is I wanted to do.

I couldn't wait to grow up. Now, I wish I had at least slowed down a little, but since I didn't, I'm living like a child now!

I love the holidays, more than my daughter I think. And Halloween, well, what could be more fun than that? I dress up every year, and every year, it gets more and more ridiculous.

This year I have a naughty nun and a sexy Strawberry Shortcake costume. I think Strawberry Shortcake is winning. At work I'll be Cruella Deville. That's who I was last year when I went to a Halloween party with Marty. He was Darth Maul, took us forever to do his makeup.

All my friends get into Halloween too. I read an article today that said Halloween is such a big money maker because of all the adults that dress up. I don't remember my parents dressing up.

Mo wants to be Alice in Wonderland, for now that is, I'm sure it will change, she is usually something dead.

I don't remember having this much fun at Halloween when I was a kid, maybe it was because my parents didn't let me drink. Whatever the reason, it's fun now.

And this year, my dates are going to be a priest, a nun and Rainbow Brite, and we are going to walk into a bar. Sounds like the beginning of a joke doesn't' it? Well, it just might be, only we won't let anyone in on the punch line.

Sleep is my friend

2009-10-27T15:32:00.000-07:00

We all have our talents, mine is sleeping. I am the world's best sleeper, it's one of my favorite things to do and I do it well.

I'm usually falling asleep walking up the stairs. Mo tucks me in now because I can't stay up past ten, hey five comes early!

Lately though I've notice something strange. I don't move, at all, all night. Is that normal?

I get in bed, roll on my side and I'm out like a light. I dont' even have to make my bed, just pull the blanket back in place.

Joyce said I sleep like a corpse, I say, corpse's don't sleep! Silly rabbit,I'm just a good sleeper.

When I was first divorced Mo slept with me every night. That lasted about a year. When she finally slept in her own bed I was on cloud nine. I took up the whole bed, I rolled, I tossed, I turned, in the morning, even the bottom sheet was off the bed.

Now, I don't even use the other side of the bed. I better make sure I rotate my mattress otherwise that other side will still be brand new.

Random thoughts for a snow day.

Irrational fears

2009-10-26T19:55:00.001-07:00

Everyone has them. Even if we don't talk about them. Other people's irrational fears are funny, our own, not so much.

My sister, Angie is afraid of praying mantis'. Can you believe that? She is so afraid that once when we lived in an apartment, she went to go outside and there was a praying mantis on the screen door so she called maintenance to come remove it. Our friend Marianne managed the complex at the time and thought that was the funniest thing she had ever heard so the next day when Angie came home from work there were plastic praying mantis' everywhere, on the chairs on the porch, the doorknob, it was hysterical. Angie didn't think so.

She is also afraid of tumbleweeds. She almost killed us all when a "herd" of tumbleweeds ran across the road. That's what she called them, a herd.

I'm afraid of clowns. I never used to be, but now that it's dark in the garage when I go out in the morning I know that clown from It is out there waiting for me. My friend Joyce thinks it's vampires that are waiting for her. I told her vampires aren't real, how can you be afraid of something that isn't real? She's afraid of midgets too.

Mo's afraid of the dark. When I get up in the morning every light in the house is on because she can't walk down the hall to her bedroom with the lights off.

What makes one person afraid and another not? I know my sister was never attached by a praying mantis or a herd of tumbleweeds. I've never encountered a clown hell bent on killing me and nothing lives in the dark in my house. Yet we are afraid.

I love Stephen King, I've read everything he has ever written, at least twice, except It. What the hell was he thinking? Give me cars that want to kill me, a cemetary that brings animals and people back to life, telekinisis, rabid dogs, anything but clowns.

Maybe that will be the story line of my next novel, saving the world, one clown at a time. We could use praying mantis', vampires, tumbleweeds and midgets to get rid of them. I think I'm on to something............

When I grow up............

2009-10-26T19:40:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every one's life when you have to start thinking about what you want to be when you grow up. I want to be a writer.

I want to sell many, many novels, buy a beach house in North Carolina, eat bon bons, travel to exotic places and have affairs with the gardener, the pool boy, the pizza delivery guy......you get the picture.

Anyway, now that I'm 27 ( don't you dare correct me, this is my delusion after all ) I've decided it's time to buckle down and start getting serious about this writing thing.

I have three half finished novels that I've been working on, half-heartedly, for ten years. So, today is the day, I'm going to start writing.

First, I have to get ready. I made signs that say " If you want to be a writer, sit down and write" I have taped them everywhere. I've saved what I've written in several places, in case my computer crashes. Now I'm ready.

But first, I have to do some laundry, Mo needs a specific shirt clean for her job interview tomorrow. Plus, I really should do some yoga, I've been putting that off, and I need to do it for my health. Ok, now I can write.

Oh wait, I need to fold the laundry, then I should take a shower so I don't have to shower in the morning. While I'm in the bathroom I see that the trash needs to be emptied and there is shampoo spilled on the shelf. Ok, I'll just clean the bathroom.

Bathroom clean, I'm really ready now. Just a quick check of Facebook, then myspace, then my email, oh wait, there's a dating site I've been talking to this guy on.....

The list goes on and on. Before I know it, it's time to go to bed, 5am comes early you know. I'll write tomorrow.

Am I the only one who does this? Is it a fear of not being good enough? Or is it laziness. I really, really want to write, I love it, it's like nothing I've ever done before. Why don't I do it?

I should just finish this post and write, I think I will. But first... I think I'll make a sandwich.

Today, we cry

2009-10-22T20:13:00.000-07:00

The world lost a wonderful man today. Wayne Edwards. My ex husbands oldest brother died as a result of ALS otherwise known as Lou Gehrig's disease. He contracted this from exposure to agent orange in Vietnam.
ALS is not a kind disease. It took the body of a vibrant, active man while leaving his amazingly intelligent mind intact.
Wayne knew what was going on and was powerless to stop it, by the end he was powerless to do pretty much anything.
My heart is breaking for his wife, Arlene, their time together was much too short, for his children, for his grandchildren.
But right now, mostly, my heart breaks for Steve. My ex husband has had his share of issues with all of his siblings, just like the rest of us, but he loves them and they love him. He is the baby, Stevarino.
Steve has lost two brothers in just a few short years, both gone too soon. Wayne is the oldest and only 63. I can't imagine his pain and hope that he and the rest of his siblings are comforted knowing that where ever we go when this is over, whatever you believe, there is a special place for men like Wayne. Men who did what they had to do to take care of the ones they love and paid a heavy price for it.
Mo and I love you Wayne, and we will miss you.

Reality TV? Seriously............

2009-10-20T18:46:00.000-07:00

Ok, not a reality TV fan, not really a TV fan but reality TV is like the shit you scrape off your shoe, you keep looking at it because you have no idea how it got there.

It seemed innocent enough, American Idol, of course I only watch the first few episodes where they have the people who are so horrible you just have to laugh. My favorite was Keith from season one with his "Like a Virgin" remake, he is my hero.

I hear people at work talk about these shows all the time, but I never watch them. The funny thing is, even if you have never seen them there is no escape.

Jon and Kate plus 8. What the hell is that? I only saw commercials and Kate was always yelling at someone. Does having eight kids really make you TV worthy?

And then there are the Duggar's. A quiverfull? That's a religion? You know why God said go forth and multiply? Because people rarely lived past thirty and you needed kids to work the family farm and take care of the ones left behind when Mom kicked the bucket from having too many babies.

I don't know about the rest of you but pushing one screaming six pound person from my vagina was enough to last me a life time. Pregnancy was great, it was giving birth that sucked. Although I imagine that being pregnant while you still have three under 5 would not be so much fun.

If only I had continued until my uterus needed rebar to hold it in then I too, could have my own reality show. Cheese and rice.

Still, those shows are fairly benign, as long as you don't think of the damage being done to the children when everything they do is played out in front of a TV audience.

Then there is the Octomom. What was she thinking, and how did it ever sound like a good idea- even in her head?

" I know, I'll have fourteen kids, no job, no spouse, call 911 all the time because I can't keep track of all these kids, fight with my mom, have the maturity of most twelve year olds and America will hate me so much they will be compelled to watch."

Nothing is as bad as the balloon boy saga. This kids parents have already been on wife swap, they love the lime light. Their fifteen minutes of fame was over. So what do they do? Concoct an elaborate scheme to get all of America involved in the fate of their youngest child, tell the children before hand and coach them on the lies they will have to tell, and then set their plan in motion.

I, like everyone else, was holding my breath, praying that their little boy was safe. All while thinking, what were they doing, why wasn't that balloon secure so a little boy couldn't get hurt in it. And when the balloon landed and there was no one inside, the image of him falling 8,000 feet or so to his death would not leave me.

He wasn't in the balloon because he never had been, when they interviewed him, he vomited, twice, trying to keep the lies he was supposed to be telling straight.

So, someone, in their infinite wisdom, gave this child's parents exactly what they wanted, a TV show of their very own. Where are the people who are supposed to be protecting these children? Certainly their parents are not up for the job.

What happened to the days when it was a parents job to teach children that lying is never appropriate? Now, parents coach their children on the lies to tell during interviews.

What happened to child labor laws? Now, parents have more and more children and put them in danger, just to get their own TV show.

But, before you get on your high horse and say " How dare they?" Think about the reality shows you watch. Maybe they are not even close to being like these but they all lead to one thing- the exploitation of someone for someone else's gain.

Seriously, would you have ever though about the Kardashian sisters if it were not for reality TV?

Never give in to sudden urges

2009-10-20T18:16:00.000-07:00

I really don't know what's wrong with me, or more specifically, what was wrong with me on Saturday.

It started like any other Saturday. Laundry, vacuuming, purging (we'll talk about that later) and a trip to Home Depot.

I was finally going to finish the spare room so I could move my stuff in there and start sanding my room. Just a typical Saturday. Until I paid attention to a radio ad.

It was an ad for a car dealership " Come on down" so I did what any brain dead parent of a sixteen year old would do, I yelled for my daughter.

" Hey Mo, wanna go car shopping?" Wait, who said that? No sooner had I thought it then we were in the car on our way to the dealership.

The rest of the day was spent on autopilot. I did not know this woman who was buying a car from some sleazy little car salesman who kept calling me Mom.

Fortunately, Mo was on it, she test drove many cars and finally fell in love. Even when the sleazy guy tried to talk her into another car she stood firm, too bad I didn't.

So now we are the proud owners of a new car. Mo has learned to change a brake light, check the oil, the antifreeze and the windshield washer fluid.

Me, I just signed the check. What was I thinking?

Cyberslut Bingo

2009-10-17T07:48:00.000-07:00

Last night Joyce and I went to CyberSlut bingo. We played bingo with lesbians, gay guys and cross dressers, oh my! It was a freaking blast!

Joyce was a little nervous so we had some vodka tonics in the parking lot before we went in and she made me promise not to let them make her do anything.

Upon entering we were greeted by a 6 foot tall man with an additional three feet of yellow hair, he was also wearing silver boots with a big heel. What a cutie! His name was Fonda Dick, then there was Monaco Lewinsky dressed like a little dutch girl with big red hair and huge knockers. And don't forget Freda Snatch, they were amazing, and the most fun you can have in a room full of gay men on a Friday night.

Since it is October this months theme was Halloween so lots of people were dressed up. My favorite was two older guys, in their mid to late fifties, dressed as cowboys, chaps and all. They were broke back mountain, it was hilarious!

This bingo has some different rules. It is to benefit the Utah Aids Foundation so all the prizes are donated, things like dinner for two at a nice restaraunt, an overnight stay at Hotel Monaco, and a bag filled with goodies.

You just play basic bingo but they have a saying for almost every number, my favorite:

Oh sixty three,
oh sixty three,
I wanna lick you
where you pee
Sung to Old Christmas tree in case you hadn't guessed.

If you are down to one number you have to get up and spin around in a circle with your hands in the air. There are also party fouls, things like talking on your cell phone- they will take it and talk to whoever is on the other end, not good if it's your grandma!

Also, no hands or arms on the table, if you are caught and you are a girl, you have to wear this huge, silly drag queen wig, if you are a guy, you have to take your shirt off and don't get it back until you have collected twenty bucks, so you have all these cute shirtless guys running aroung collecting dollar bills. Too bad they are all gay.

During a fifteen minute break Joyce and I were talking about how much fun we were having.

Me- They all think we are lesbians.
Joyce- No they don't, I don't care anyway.
Me- It's because you wore your lesbian shoes.
Joyce- You are so rude, what about you, you look like a twelve year old boy.
Me- That's the way you like them baby.

We had the best time and plan to go again. When we were leaving an older lesbian couple told us to have a good night. Joyce said, they really do think we are lesbians.

Rant of the day

2009-10-16T15:43:00.000-07:00

I’m surrounded by idiots. There really is no other explanation. Yes, I know I’m one of them, but my idiocy shows in different ways. Today I am on a rant about people who bilk the government, charity organizations and churches instead of getting a job.

I understand that lots of people cannot work and need these programs, they can’t go away, if they do there will be even more problems than there are right now. My issue is with the people who can work, but simply choose not to, they have plenty of excuses, lots of reasons why they can’t work.

My first example is a person I used to be friends with, let’s call her Marie. She is funny, smart, articulate and refuses to be a contributing member of society. Marie has two children, neither of which she currently has custody of, but she uses their names and ages when she goes to the bishop for help.

Marie is an alcoholic, she has lost custody of both of her children. DCFS paid for her to go into a rehab facility as part of a plan to regain custody of her youngest. In other words, you and I paid for her to go into rehab, I know many people who work hard and either they or their children have drug or alcohol issues but their health insurance doesn’t cover rehab and they make too much money to qualify for any programs. There really aren’t a lot of programs for people who are indigent, that’s why so many substance abusers are homeless. Marie got lucky that her daughter’s social worker could pull some strings to try to get help for her.

So what does she do? Marie, in her infinite wisdom, WALKS OUT OF THE PROGRAM!!!! She doesn’t need it, this isn’t really for someone like her, she says all of this while looking down her nose, as if she is better than the other people in the program. Marie says things like- “They have drug problems, I don’t.” Well, no you don’t but you did drive your child to school so drunk that the teachers took your keys and refused to let you have them back- and this was at 9am.

I am amazed by other peoples stupidity and their sense of entitlement. Marie has not worked since she got pregnant with her youngest, the state of Utah and the LDS church has supported her for the last six years.

When she walked out of this program that the taxpayers of Utah were kind enough to pay for, she was right back up to her old tricks. The state and the church are again paying for her apartment, her utilities, her food, her cell phone, her internet. And she doesn’t see a problem with this.

Did you know there is an expensive frozen food delivery company here in Utah that will allow you to pay for your home delivered food, with your food stamps? Me neither, but Marie used them to buy me ice cream for Christmas- there’s one Christmas present I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy. How many children go hungry while Marie buys ice cream, to give away, with her food stamps?

The second example is a woman I work with, she has two daughters, late twenties, they both have toddlers, no baby’s daddies on the scene in this world. All day long I hear this woman over in her cubicle on the phone telling her daughters how to apply for housing, who to call for sub for Santa, what stores they can use their food stamps when they shop. Not only will these girls not work, they are not even ambitious enough to actively seek help, their mom does it for them.

Every year I do sub for Santa or pick names off the Angel tree, I stopped two years ago. I got the name of two little girls, 5 and 7, talked to their mom about what they wanted, spent more money than Sub for Santa recommends but I didn’t care, these two little girls were going to have a nice Christmas.

A week before Christmas I make arrangements to drop off the gifts. The house I deliver the gifts to is huge, in one of the best neighborhoods in the valley. The mom answers the door and tells me to just put the gifts in the front room. She was talking on her cell phone and really didn’t have time to talk to me. I walk into the front room, dragging bags and toys and wrapping paper and tape and stocking stuffers. The front room looks like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine, the tree is at least ten feet tall and beautifully decorated, the entire home is beautifully decorated for Christmas. There are so many presents under the tree, the majority of which have tags with the little girl’s names on them. The mother didn’t even acknowledge me the whole time I made trips in and out of the house. She never said goodbye. She never said thank you.

I feel like an idiot, I didn’t help anyone. This wasn’t a case of giving to someone who might not otherwise receive, this was all about greed. I have discovered that people who are living off government or church or charity can never get enough. They know there is always someone else out there who will give to them as well, and they want it all.

There has to be a better way.

Nothing a bubble bath can't cure

2009-10-13T20:38:00.000-07:00

What a day! It started out bad and quickly went downhill. My beautiful Mo and I argued on the way to work this morning, never a good start to a day. I hate argueing and being "grunchy" with her, it makes my whole day sad.

It was an emotional day. I wallowed in self pity. Damn him! I'm glad he is out of my life but sad for the time I lost to him. I'm also repeatedly kicking my own ass for being such an idiot.

Work was hard, I just wanted to come home, crawl in bed, cry, scream and throw things, but work stops for no man.

I held it together, barely. We went bowling which made me laugh, very welcome on a day like today.

Then on my way home my best friend called, she was upset because I lied to her. I lied to everyone, I was so tired of hearing the crap for dating him that I just lied. I'm not dating him, we are just friends, hanging out. Now of course they all know I lied.

It was much better than seeing that look on their faces that said they knew it was just a matter of time. If everyone else could see it, why couldn't I?

I told my friend I couldn't talk about it, I really couldn't, thinking about it made me cry, forget about talking about it.

Mo and I went to a birthday party, I just wanted to come home. My plan for the night was a bubble bath, a glass of wine and crying until my head exploded or I couldn't stand my nose running anymore, whichever came first.

We got home and I prepared for my bath of misery. Mo was not happy that I was shedding a single tear over him, let alone a bathtub full.

I got everything together, lit the candles, got my wine, poured the bubble bath under the running water and waited for the water to be high enough to turn on the jets. I may be a crybaby but I want my privacy when I cry.

Finally I turn on the jets and settle in for a good cry. As soon as the tears start I realize I've used WAAAAAAAAAAAAy too much bubble stuff and this is turning in to the bubble bath that ate the world. I quickly turn off the jets and call Mo and ask her to bring me a towel.

My baby walks in, sees me covered up to my chin in bubbles and starts laughing, then she throws bubbles at me. Giggling we start to have a bubble fight when I realize I have really, really huge bubble boobs, which makes us laugh harder. Then I do the Santa beard with the bubble boobs and the sad tears are gone, replaced by ones from laughing so hard.

"That's enough, I'm done feeling sorry for myself, I'm getting out of here before the bubbles take over the house."

As Mo leaves the bathroom I tell her I love her and thank her for making me laugh. Had I really forgotten what's important? The sound of my teenager laughing at my Santa beard and bubble boobs as she throws bubbles at me made me realize, I have everything I need.

I may have stumbled, and fallen, and lost my way for a while, but I have so very much to be grateful for, so many people who love me, even when I'm an idiot.

The pity party is over, I had an entire day to kick myself in the ass for this mistake but you know what? In the grand scheme of my life he is a blip on the screen, and one day I will look back and be grateful for the lesson.

Prelude to a post

2009-10-12T20:04:00.000-07:00

Ok, this is an introduction to the post that follows. I haven't blogged much lately, haven't been able to find the funny in the every day. There hasn't been a lot of funny lately, just a lot of hurt. I found out my boyfriend ( now ex boyfriend) had another girlfriend. The post that follows is about that, the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Once this is out of my head we will return to our regularly scheduled blog.

Candy Coated Misery

2009-10-12T19:33:00.000-07:00

What do you wear to meet your boyfriends other girlfriend? Hmmm? Really, I didn't know the answer because I never asked the question, never thought I would need to know. So, after Jessica invited me out I poured myself a glass of wine and googled it. Not that it really mattered, who cares? We were just two women who were going to dump our hurt into each others laps. We understood.

Just for the record, google was no help, not that I really wanted or needed suggestions, it didn't matter, I just wanted to take my mind off the real question.

How did I not know this? How did I believe him? How many times was I dropped on my head as a baby?

For the record, Jessica, is a wonderful woman who is much braver than I. We have known about each other in an obscure way for the past year. I knew when he met her, we broke up, I knew when he told her about us, they broke up, after that things got very muddled.

I guess it's true that we only see what we want to see. I wanted to believe all the bullshit he spoon fed me, and so did she. Jessica said it best, she said " I knew something wasn't right, out of the corner of my eye I could see it, but I would just make myself look somewhere else and pretend I saw nothing."

We both did. We both fell in love with a man who only loves himself. We shared him, unknowingly, one weekend with her, one weekend with me, a night here a night there, just enough to cover his trail on both ends.

Jessica finally took the bull by the horns and emailed me, asked the question that was in the back of my mind but I was too afraid to ask, too afraid to find the answer I didn't want to hear.

We decided to meet, now there is an uncomfortable situation if there ever was one. She invited me out and I figured since she was brave enough to take the first step to ending our misery, it was my turn. I showed up at the bar she suggested.

We had a few beers and discovered all the lies he told us both, most of them the same lies, guess it was easier for him to keep track that way. And you know what? I like her. I really, really like her. She is bright and funny and pretty as hell. She absolutely doesn't need a loser like him in her life.

Then she reminded me that I don't either. One thing we discovered during our talk was that he took so much away from us. Mainly, he took our self esteem, our sense of self worth. Before meeting him we were both pretty sure that we deserved good things, he made us believe otherwise.

Well no more my friend. Sometimes good does triumph over evil, sometimes we do the right thing, and sometimes we women stick together.

There are plenty of women, friends of his wives, who knew and didn't tell us. Who listened to us say we loved him and were going to have a future with him, and they said nothing. Would we have listened? I guess we'll never know. Instead we listened to each other and found the strength to walk away.

It's scary. Sometimes it's so much easier to stay in a relationship, even a bad one, then to go out in the big bad dating world again. I still cry at night, but this time I welcome the tears, I know that when they stop, this is really over and I will get on with my life.

Thank you Jessica, for giving me back myself, for becoming a real person to me instead of just who he threatened me with whenever things didn't go his way.

Together we will get through this and all he has is the memories of what he lost. And he lost more than he will ever know.

2009-10-05T20:06:00.001-07:00

My baby, she is so grown up but still sleeps under her baby blanket. I made that blanket for her first birthday out of outgrown clothes. It has been patched so much that the only thing on it that is still original is the back. She can't sleep anywhere without it.

Isn't life wonderful. All I have to do is look at her and I know that whatever purpose I have in life was fulfilled when I pushed this child out of my girlie parts.

Another Saturday night in Utah

2009-10-04T08:29:00.000-07:00

It's General Conference weekend. If you don't know what that is, you don't live in Utah, or even visit very often.

General Conference happens twice a year. The leaders of the predominate religion (those damn Mormons) give instruction to church members, there are five two hour sessions.

Some people go in person to hear the speakers, some sit home where we can watch or listen to it around the clock if we want. And some of us, get our drink on.

General conference always talks about women, how important they are, in the home and at church, so, we went out and celebrated women.
We started at the strip club. Strip clubs are some of the best places to people watch and not just the strippers!

First there was this little rock star wanna be. He looked like one of the guys from Poison, the one that always wears the bandanna over his head with lots of black eye liner. That was him, he danced for us, we gave him a dollar and someone in our group sucked tequila out of his belly button and rubbed her tongue raw licking the salt off his stomach.

It wasn't me, I hate tequila, even if it is on a cute twenty somethings six pack. Eventually we got bored, you can only watch strippers for so long before they all look the same, kinda like Chinese people.

So, since it was Celebrate Women night Marianne had two of her favorite lesbians pick us up and take us to the gay bar. Marianne said she had been there before and learned the Lesbian dance- they have their own dance? Who knew.

Turns out it was Cupid Shuffle, which I learned at the Westerner with my sisters- actually I learned it the night Angie got married but that's a whole different story.
So we were cupid shuffling as soon as we got there, and then we danced to the apple bottom jeans song and all I could think of was that video on you tube with the little boy in the red shirt dancing to that, I tried his moves, it wasn't pretty.

Then, suddenly we realize, we are not going to pick up men here, hello, its a freaking gay bar! Who's idea was this anyway?

We called our trusty designated driver- thanks Greg, you rock- and he came and picked us up and took us back to the strip club and we made it before last call.
The end of the night at strip clubs is pretty funny. Marianne and I sat in the end of the night perv seats for a while, gave us a better view of the guys, then we all went outside to smoke.

Ok, it's the end of the night so all the guys who haven't found someone to go home with are desperately seeking the love of their night. And we are laughing at them.
One guy was showing off his east side tattoos- cause apparently gang wannabees are every woman over 40's dream man, and here comes Alabama.

This man was tall, I mean tall, he towered over Marianne and I and Mr. East side. So Alabama starts showing us him "pure Alabama" tattoos. That's when we notice he has one tooth, right in the front.

Marianne topped them both with their pure east side and pure Alabama shit, she showed them pure Murray, they will never be the same.

Last call, Greg shows up and we are headed out the door when pure east side and another guy in a wife beater start talking to us.

Wife beater is checking out Kim, and then he says the magic words, "I just got out of prison"

Kim and I are both like, " Ummm, dude, you might not want to tell the ladies that when you first meet them." He was a little offended.

Then we ran giggling and got in the car with Greg. It was fun and we almost talked a guy in the parking lot into stripping for us, but then his wife called!

Baseball, black eyes and trailer trash

2009-10-01T16:28:00.000-07:00

I just got off the phone with a friend and we were talking about how klutzy people can be. I said that I never really had that problem, thank God. She laughed and said "Really? Where have you been for the last couple years?"
Gotta love those friends who never, ever let you forget all the stupid things you have done. Since this blog is all about over sharing and giving you way too much information about my life, here we go again!
A few years ago I was on a coed softball team at work. I played second base, something I was very proud of since I wasn't all that athletic as a kid. I was good at it, I can catch and I can throw, not far but being in the infield you don't have to throw far. Anyway, it was our first 9 o'clock game. We were in the outfield when the pitcher threw the ball to me because someone was rounding second. I lost the ball in the lights and caught it with my eye. I dropped to my knees not really sure where the ball had hit me, just that it had, and I wasn't going to let all these people I worked with see me cry. Don tried to help me up but I just kept crying for Angie, she was in the outfield, we worked together.
Angie came running in, helped me up, took one look at my eye and told her boyfriend, who was the pitcher, that we needed to go to the hospital.
We go to the hospital, I get seven stitches all while my sister makes fun of her boyfriend for hitting me with the ball.
In the morning, I call in to work, no way am I going to work with a black eye and stitches. I send Mo off to school and start cleaning the house. About an hour later I get a phone call from the principal asking me to come pick Mo up because she has been suspended for PDA (public display of affection) She's in eight grade.
I call Steve to see if he will go get her, I don't want to be seen like this and I figure he will lecture her so much I won't have to. Not gonna happen, he is working over an hour away. Shit.
I go to school, try not to make eye contact with anyone, sit in the principal's office while he tells me what a delinquent my child is and what can I say? I am the poster child for spousal abuse. Eventually he feels sorry for me and stops lecturing me and turns my child over to me.
We walk to the car, my blood is boiling but I don't want them to call child protective services so I wait until we are in the car to start yelling.
" What were you thinking? Holy hell, can't you just go to school and stay out of trouble? Look at me, do you think I wanted to come out looking like this? I work so freaking hard so you have a good life, not a white trash life, a good life, and this is what I get?"
" Mom, I didn't do anything! Stop yelling at me, it wasn't my fault!"
I'm about to lose my mind " Mo, I come to school, with a black eye to pick you up because you have been suspended for PDA in the hallway, with a GIRL no less, we look like white trash. They probably think your father beats me."
" Don't worry Mommy, they all know you and Daddy are divorced."
"Great, they think my boyfriend beats me, that's soooooooo much better."
Just a friendly reminder that we are all just a black eye away from the trailer we came from and this is just the first of my klutzy moments. Next time, I actually fall out of a house.

Fall is here

2009-10-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

October 1st. Can you believe it? When I started this blog it was going to be all about finding myself. Figuring out who I am now that I'm someone else. Guess what? I still have no freaking idea!
My beautiful Mo is maturing by leaps and bounds, taking PSAT's and SAT's and ACT's and a bunch of other things I don't understand. I know it has something to do with college but what, I couldn't tell you. She wants to be a kindergarten teacher. I'm still wondering how she can possibly know what she wants to be when she grows up when I still have no clue, and I'm already a grown up!
Some days Mo is so sure of herself, she knows who she is and what she wants. I just want her to sit still and let me figure this out.
I'm a helicopter parent, I hover. Lovely image isn't it? If I could have put her in a bubble and protected her from the big bad world I would have, but I can't, society frowns on chaining your children in the basement. Don't they know whats out there?
Strangers, and cars, and boys and mean kids, and poison, and drunk drivers and pedophiles and aluminum foil in microwaves, and drugs and parents who let their kids drink and falling with scissors, the list goes on and on.
I know how it sounds, but isn't it my job to protect her? After all, I'm the mighty grown up and she is just a little girl who has no idea that in the right situation even candy can kill.
I am the parent that takes every freak story on the news and remembers it and designs my life to protect my child from just such a tragedy.
How many children are abducted? That's why she is never out of my sight.
How many children get decapitated by flying objects in a car during an accident? That's why there is never anything loose in the car.
How many children get hit crossing the street? That's why she couldn't cross the street by herself until she was twelve and why, even now if we are walking together and have to cross the street I reach for her hand.
How many children get high sniffing sharpies? That's why the sharpies are hidden in my room.
I could go on and on and on. Really, the things that I worry about are infinite. If I call her and she doesn't answer the phone I'm sure something horrible has happened. When she finally answers the phone she gets a lecture about "What's the point in having a phone if you never answer the damn thing? I though aliens abducted you." It could happen.
My only source of comfort in this helicopter life is knowing that I'm not alone. my nephew is 18 and still not allowed to eat Cap'n Crunch cereal, he choked on it once when he was three. His mom has never forgotten.
Just the other day I was thinking that life will be easier when Mo is 18 and I don't have to worry about her. I was talking to Joyce about teenagers, driving, boys, grades, all the drama that goes on.
Joyce, the mother of three grown daughters said, "I'm so glad that I don't have to do that anymore, so glad my girls are grown." Then she said, " I hope my granddaughter will not be a follower in junior high." And I realized, it never ends, absolutely never, and what's worse, those children you worry about will one day have children of their own for you to worry about.
Kill me now.

Happily ever after.....NOT!

2009-09-30T15:28:00.000-07:00

We're married! Woo hoo! It's 6 a.m. and I'm a little delirious from lack of sleep so I'm still thinking this is fun! We start making phone calls, me first, I call my parents:
Me : Hi, Mom, guess where I am?
Mom, "Camping"
Me "Vegas"
Mom "What are you doing in Vegas"
Me " I got married"
Mom s i l e n c e. My mother is rarely speechless. "Clarence, pick up the phone, your daughter just got married in Vegas"
Dad, "Angie?"
Mom " No, Missi, pick up the phone."
Dad " Hello"
Me " Hi Daddy"
Dad "Are you drunk"
Me " No, Daddy, I'm not drunk"
Dad " Is he?"
That pretty much summed up the conversations we had with our family on the ride home. One of my sisters would only say "Shut the fuck up, you did not" over and over and over again. She said it every time I tried to say something.
So we rode home, giggling from our lack of sleep, ready to begin our lives together. But first, we must tell our children. Mo was 12 and just for future reference it is NOT a good idea to leave your child with their other parent for the weekend and come back married. Not a good idea at all.
I woke up the next morning, our first morning waking up together as man and wife, and he was laying there, still asleep, on my side of the bed, drooling a little on my pillow and all I could think was " You're really never gonna go home are you?" Shit
So after such an auspicious start is it surprising that we didn't live happily ever after?
In the first week of wedded bliss I found out my husband had two problems, ok, two OTHER problems, working and drinking. Way too much of one and way too little of another. No, he wasn't a workaholic.
Fast forward two and a half months, I get home from work at ten and find my new husband passed out on the floor and my twelve year old locked in her room, she's scared of stupid drunk people, who knew?
Anyway, I take the keys out of his pocket, drag his drunk ass to the front porch, lock the door and leave him there. If only that were the end, but no, he had to come back for his things.
When he comes back he is in rare form, yelling and stomping and snorting fire, I'm trying to ignore him. I'm carrying boxes because I'm moving and he is standing in the doorway yelling. I tell him to get out of my house. He says, make me.
Ok, I put the box down and try to push him out of the doorway. He's 6 feet tall and about 200 pounds, needless to say, it didn't work, but he did get a disgusted look on his face and walk outside.
I go back to moving and the police show up. I'm thinking they are there because of all the yelling, how naive I am.
Officer Friendly " Do you live here?"
Me "Yes" but thinking, no Einstein, I always move other peoples shit.
Officer Friendly "Is that your husband?"
Me "Yes"
Officer Friendly "You wanna tell us whats going on here."
So I tell him an abbreviated version, we're moving, he wanted to argue, yelling, get out, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Officer Friendly " He says you pushed him"
Me " Yes, I pushed him"
Officer Friendly " Where was he when you pushed him"
Me "Right here"
Officer Friendly " And where did he end up?"
Me " Ummmm, right here, he's a bit bigger than me"
That's when I found out that your first instinct should be to lie to the nice officer because not only had I pushed him, but I admitted to it so now I had to be arrested.
WTF!!! You're kidding right? Not kidding apparently. Officer Friendly takes me to the patrol car while his buddy talks with my wonderful husband. I sit in the car give the officer all the information he asks for, he gives me a citation for disorderly conduct and walks me back to the apartment.
As we are walking back we walk right past my husband and the other officer. My wonderful husband says "I'm really sorry about all this."
I turned and looked at him, I wanted so badly to call him a pussy, but with an officer holding my arm and a citation with a court date on it in my hand, that didn't seem like the best course of action.
Instead I sweetly smiled at him and said " It's ok Sweetie, I understand why you would be afraid."
The cops laughed like mad men, which made it so worth it. And that is how I got divorced and arrested for domestic violence. I had to go to anger management for a year, which really pissed me off. But I learned my lesson and my family got a huge laugh out of it, the joke with my sisters now is " Don't make her mad, she might push you."
So children, what have we learned? Never, ever admit anything, even when you haven't done anything wrong. The cops asked me if Kurt hit or pushed me,I said no, because he hadn't but when they asked if I pushed him I said yes, the truth, again. Before they left the cops told me, once they stopped laughing, if I had denied it nothing would have happened, his word against mine and all of that good stuff. Instead it cost me over a thousand dollars to hear my therapist at anger management say " Well, we dont' think you have anger or violence issues, if anything, you need to be more assertive." Really? Isnt' that what got me into this?

True love in Vegas

2009-09-26T19:49:00.000-07:00

My cousin Tink called me today, apparently her Alzheimer's is more advanced than mine because she actually forgot that I LIVED WITH HER! In her house! For quite a while! If you have ever met me you are as amazed by that as I am, I'm quite unforgettable you know.
Anyway, we started talking about my husbands, yes, that is plural and the number continues to grow. I'm nothing if not persistent, I'm determined to get this right one day. Anyway, my first husband, Danny, not only had she met, he helped her husband work on a furnace when she was pregnant with Jake but she doesn't remember him. If only my memory were so forgiving.
I mentioned my Vegas wedding and she just giggled, so Tink, this blog is for you!
After Steve and I got divorced ( husband number two in case your anal ass is keeping track) I dated the brother of a girl I had worked with for three years. Let me just say, this is never a good idea. I mean never, trust me on this. Anyway I went out with Kurt once or twice, decided I wasn't really ready to date, Steve and I had only been separated for a few months, then I never saw Kurt again.
Occasionally, just to be polite, I would asked Jessica about her brother. Well, one day she tells me he went to jail for a DUI that he never paid his fine for, yadda, yadda, yadda. "Can you write to him Carol? He has to be in there for nine months, it's not his fault, yadda, yadda, yadda, he's so bummed, he could really use a friend."
Now, I was feeling kinda bad for him, cause that's what I do you know. Every wounded man in the world just needs me to make his life complete.I can fix him! So I started writing to him, which led to visiting him. Which led to dating him again once he got out of jail. I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Anyway, we started dating and after about six weeks we went camping. Our kids were with their other parent so it was just the two of us and my dog, Shenzie.
I had a blast, we hiked, we cooked, drank some beer and got naked repeatedly in the woods. The makings of a beautiful weekend. Then, Saturday evening while he was cooking dinner he suggested we move in together. I told him I wasn't living with him or anyone else, Mo was twelve, that wasn't the example I wanted to set for her.
Kurt said, " Then let's get married."
Me " Sure, I'll marry you tomorrow." And I drank another beer.
About fifteen minutes later he looks at me and says, " Are you serious."
Me " Sure"
So Kurt dumps our dinner in the fire and starts packing up camp. I'm sitting on my ass watching him, thinking, he can't possibly be serious. Shenzie is going nuts, Kurt had given her bacon and eggs for breakfast and now he was throwing her partially cooked steaks while he was cleaning up. It was kind of funny, but it would come back to haunt me later.
A short while later he has everything thrown in the car and says, let's go get married. I jump in the car thinking " I can do this, if it's wrong, my gut will stop me, right?"
We start driving, I'm no longer drinking beer, it's coffee and rockstar, I need to stay awake so I will hear that little voice that says " What the f**k are you doing?" I'm sure it will come, so I'm not worried.
About every 50 miles or so, Kurt looks over at me and says, " Are you sure?"
I'm still waiting for that little voice so I say, " Of course, keep driving!"
By the time we get to Vegas it is 4am and I am exhausted, pre menstrual and I have to piss so bad I'm ready to pee my pants. And Shenzie is whining and farting like a banshee in the backseat.
Well, in Vegas, no one will let you use their bathroom ,they are afraid you will go in there and shoot up or something. I'm arguing with some Arab in a 7-11, telling him he can come in the damn bathroom with me, I gotta piss! No dice, he is not giving me the key. Asshole.
I get back in the car and Shenzie's whine has turned into a full fledged guttural screech. The dog had diarrhea from all the food Kurt gave her. I tell him to find somewhere for the dog to shit before she shits in the car.
We ride around, there is no grass in Vegas. Finally we find a vacant lot and pull over. I let Shenzie out and she takes off like a bat out of hell, trailing shit. I'm standing in the middle of this vacant lot while Kurt sits in the car and the dog empties everything she has ever eaten out of her bowels when I notice....... I'm surrounded by prostitutes. There is one on each corner and lots of cars slowly cruising around checking out the merchandise. All I can think is, I'm gonna die here because my dog had to shit. Not once did Kurt get out of the car.
After an eternity Shenzie is done, she runs over and is all wagging her tail and happy now, I want to kick her. I still have to piss.
Back in the car, we start cruising the strip looking for a place to get married. I told Kurt, " Find a drive through because I am not getting out of this car"
Remember, we were camping, I'm wearing sweatpants with Tigger on them that say "Wild One' on the ass and a sweatshirt that says "Is it over yet?" on the front. My hair is in a pony tail, I smell like campfire and haven't showered. I'm not getting out of the car.
Kurt finds the Little White Wedding Chapel, they tell us we need to go to the courthouse and get a license. I'm thinking " This is for real, little voice, where the hell are you?"
We go get a license. That's when I find out we currently have five marriages between the two of us, not counting the one we are about to do, but it's gonna be ok, right?
Back to the Little White Wedding Chapel, I still have to pee. In the six hours it took us to drive there I had three cups of coffee and four rockstars. I'm in serious bitch mode because I have to piss!
I'm yelling at Kurt because I gotta pee, and so I say to him " Still want to do this?"
He says yes. Dumbass.
While we are sitting in the drive through he notices there is a bathroom inside so he says, as nice as he possibly can because I'm ready to kill someone, "Baby, there's a bathroom inside."
I jump out of the car and run inside. I swear I peed for twenty minutes. While I was in there the dog jumped into the front seat and the guy who marries people came to the window, sees Kurt and the dog and says, "Dude, we can't marry you to your dog."
When I come out Kurt is laughing his ass off, explaining to the guy that he doesn't want to marry the dog, he wants to marry me.
I'm still pissed off about the over extended bladder so being the blushing bride that I am I say, " Can we just do this?"
Then I remember that I told my mother if I ever got married again it would be at the drive through in Vegas, by Elvis. So I asked for Elvis. The guy at the window said Elvis was sleeping but if we wanted to come back at 9 he would marry us.
Oh, hell no, get this shit over with. So man in the window reads his little pre prepared speech about marriage being forever and not to enter into this lightly (we are in the drive through after all) I'm just wishing he would shut up and hurry, The dog is whining again so I know at any time there may be explosive diarrhea in the back seat.
I agree to everything he says and next think I know, he tells Kurt to kiss his bride.
Holy shit, I'm married. Now the fun really begins, but you will have to wait until tomorrow to hear about how I got divorce and arrested for domestic violence. I can only take so much remembering in one night.

2009-09-23T15:13:00.000-07:00

overshare (verb): to divulge excessive personal information, as in a blog or broadcast interview, prompting reactions ranging from alarmed discomfort to approval. — Word of the Year 2008, Webster's New World Dictionary

Have you noticed that the English language as we know it will never be the same? Today I found out that “overshare” was the word of the year for 2008. I don’t think it was my fault, but I’m sure I contributed, as have you. So in the spirit of oversharing I thought that when I get a chance I will research new words that weren’t part of our vocabulary when I was growing up, and tell a story about the word, some may be true,some may be a product of my very twisted imagination.

When I was about 27 I found out that reproduction would not be as easy for me as it is for most 13 year old girls. Oh no, I was a married adult but apparently God thought it would be fun to jerk my chain, repeatedly. So after three lost pregnancies and the snotty doctor telling me I would never have a biological child, we decided to try IVF- in vitro fertilization for those of you who are fortunate enough to not know what that acronym represents.

Any and all fertility treatments are painful, scary and in many ways, demeaning. I mean really, does the janitor need to look in my damn cooter? Even worse than that, is the fact that you have no control over anything anymore. I’m not good at being out of control, I like to know what is going to happen, when and why. I’m a planner, don’t tell me I have to wait and see.

Oh and you are pumped so full of hormones that if you suddenly went postal and killed everyone in Walmart they would never be able to convict you. Crying becomes as common as breathing, and you have no idea why. Such a wonderful time, you can see why I’m so anxious to relive it, but relive it I will, just so you too can get a laugh out of my experience.

IVF is fun, let’s just put that right out there. The first thing they do to you is give you many, many, painful, vomit inducing, frequently causing you to pass out, tests. Those are for the insurance company. They just want to make sure you are not lying on your infertitlity paperwork.

Then comes the real fun! You must be at the hospital every morning for a blood draw, a shot in the tummy, a shot in the hip and a vaginal ultrasound. Then in the evening your loving spouse gets to give you a shot in the other hip. Word of advice here- don’t piss off a man who holds your hip and a syringe in his hand, it is really not in your best interest.

So, you get through all of the lovely little hoops they make you jump through, you get up at 5 every morning and go to the hospital, you are nice to your husband, at least until after the evening shot, you pray, you make deals with God, you promise to never, ever do__________ ( whatever it is, cause at this point you will promise anything) if you can just please, please, please have one baby. Just one God, that’s all, one teeny, tiny little baby to love. Finally they say, you are ready for retrieval. Retrieval means they are going to stick a very loooooooooooong needle through your vaginal wall and suck all the little eggs out of the follicles that are mature, I had 23 mature follicles. My fertility doctor said, great job, you are in the group we get our quads from so we are only going to transfer three.

We wound up with 18 eggs, lovely little things, then they put four of them in a petri dish with Steve’s contribution and we waited. The next morning I called in to see how my babies were doing and the doctor said- “Dying, we need your husband to come back down and give us another sample so we can fertilize five more eggs.” So Steve journeyed back to the hospital to spend time in a room with magazines, knowing that everyone on the other side of that door knows what you are doing in there. At least it was fun for someone.

Transfer morning. Congratulations! You have six embryos ready to transfer. Six? What happened to the quad danger? Needless to say, I spent the entire drive to the hospital losing my mind, thinking I’m gonna have a freaking litter, all I wanted was one healthy baby. Would God really do this to me? Go from zero to six in 8.5 months? What the hell?

Steve and I sat with the doctor while he gave the spiel, selective reduction, too many babies, yadda yadda yadda. What did he say? I have no idea, I wanted to get this show on the road. I had no idea what I was in for. The doctor told me Steve could not go with me for the transfer, it was a very sterile environment, blah, blah, blah. Whatever, lets get going! Why are you still talking?

The nurse leads me to a room that is not actually a room, it’s kind of like being in the emergency room where there are beds every five feet and just a curtain separates them. I didn’t care if they did the transfer in the middle of the street, I wanted to get my baby!

“ Here’s your gown, put this on, open in the back and the doctor will be right in.” That was wonderful Nurse Perky, you will hear more from her in a moment.

Ok, I’m getting excited now, we are moving forward. I stripped in record time and put that hospital gown on, hopped up on the table and waited. Dr. Katz came in with a rolling tray that had a catheter like thing on it. He explained that this catheter held my embryos(My babies). Each embryo(baby) was cushioned by an air pocket on either side of it, the catheter would be fed into my uterus through my cervix, the embryos (babies) would be emptied into my uterus and then the catheter would be examined to make sure they all transferred. Important note- the word baby, was mine-not the doctor's, he never said the B word, but it was the only word I heard the whole time he talked. Any questions? Nope, none, let’s go, I’m ready, what are you waiting for? Hurry,hurry, hurry.

I’m very impatient.

Dr. Katz goes off to wash his hands and to let about ten “students” into the room. When I had IVF seventeen years ago it was still considered an experimental procedure.

“Ok, sweetie” says Nurse Perky, “ I need you to get on all fours with your knees at the bottom of the table.”

Done, I am nothing if not cooperative. Nurse Perky covers my bottom half with a blanket, how kind of her!

“Now I need you to put your chest on the table”

What? Seriously? I must assume a porn flick position for this? Ok, ok, I can do this, I remind myself of the little baby who is waiting for me to do this.

So, there I am, in a hospital gown, on a gurney, with my chest on the table, butt in the air, surrounded by 10-12 people and lovely Nurse Perky flips the blanket up to expose my butt to the room. Kill me now! Even the soles of my feet are blushing.

Suddenly I am no longer a person, I am a medical procedure, I’m about to die of embarrassement but everyone in the room has forgotten I’m there. I have become a cervix and a waiting uterus. As Nurse Perky swabs my girlie bits with something Dr. Katz explains to the students how my body has responded to the hormone therapy, how fertilization went, issues we encountered, best case scenarios, worst case scenarios, etc.

Hello? I’m still here, and I can freaking hear you! Dr. Katz continues explaining to the students what he is doing as he guides the catheter into my uterus. None of this is painful, something I am very, very grateful for since I’m surrounded my strangers. He removes the catheter and explains how to examine it, what to look for, how to know the transfer was complete.

Success! We have an empty catheter, the transfer is complete, you may slowly lower your tummy to the table now. Remember when I said each embryo was cushioned by an air pocket? Well, when you lower you belly to the table, guess where all that air goes? That’s right, I’m queefing the whole way from on my sexy butt in the air porn pose to prone. And to make matters worse, as I turn my head so I’m facing away from the doctor, nurse and students, I notice the maintenance man on a ladder, fixing something in the ceiling, with a perfect view of my queefing ass and all I can think is – This better freaking work!”

Southern Belles in waiting

2009-09-22T18:55:00.000-07:00

Where do kids get their preconceived notions? I know a lot of what they think, say, like and believe initially comes from their parents. In our house an example of this is that when Mo was a baby/toddler, she LOVED spaghetti, as she got older and realized that her Dad didn’t like it, she stopped eating it, she’s just barely starting to come around on this one.

As they get older their friends start to exert more and more influence. This starts at a very young age- right around kindergarten. When Mo was little we were so very fortunate to have the best day care Mom in the world. Anna is great with kids and she loved Mo. Anna has three girls of her own but always treated Mo like part of the family. Mo loved her back.

The summer before Mo went to Kindergarten we were teaching her to tie her shoes, so was her daycare family. Her dad and I were teaching her the “round the tree and through the hole” method. One morning I’m working with her to tie her shoes before day care and I notice she is trying to do the “bunny ears” method. I ask her if she needs help, and my cute, chubby cheeked little preschooler says-

“Mommy, you don’t know anything about this, it’s the Mormon way.”

It took me a moment to get what she was saying. Her daycare family was Mormon and we were not, so if they were teaching her something that we hadn’t it had to be because it was the “Mormon” way and I could not possibly have a clue.

And so it began.

Now that Mo is mostly grown up I can see the influence of those around her on her choices. The music she likes changes according to boys and friends, the clothes she wears change too, one type of boyfriend means more black, a different type means more color. Also, she will try just about any food if her friends are eating it, for me, she won’t try anything.

But, every once in a while she will voice an opinion and I’m like, “Where in the hell did that come from?”

Yesterday Mo and I were hauling rocks. Terrie has a water feature she is getting rid of and there is lots of lovely flagstone that she said I can have.

Now, I don’t want you to think that my teenage daughter would voluntarily haul rocks, or anything else for that matter, I bribed her.

Anyway, my little princess is helping her Momma haul flagstone and we take a break and have the following conversation:

“ How come we’re doing this instead of men?” spoken like the Princess she is.

“ Because I don’t have a man so we have to do it.” I said.

“You have Marty” While rolling her teenage eyes.

“He’s not my man” I remind her in my subject closed voice.

“ Well, he is a man and men should move rocks, we should be sitting on the deck in poufy dresses sipping ice tea.”

I almost choked on my beer.What the hell? When did my daughter become a southern belle? I don’t know where this particular preconceived notion came from. Mo has always watched me and my sisters and my friends work hard. My sisters and I don’t sit around and wait for someone else to do for us, we grab the bull by the horns and do for ourselves.

Mo has watched us patch roofs, lay sod, dig sprinkler ditches, trim trees, plant trees, move furniture, install fences, clean gutters, hang Christmas lights, the list goes on and on. Why does she think that none of that is womens work?

I remember when she was around five and I wanted tile at the entry ways instead of the linolenum that was there. Steve ripped up the linoleum and was going to lay the tile but first he needed me and Angie to scrap up the old linoleum adhesive. So Angie and I are chatting and scraping when my baby girl walks into the room, dressed in full princess garb and sadly shakes her head and says to us,

“ I can’t believe Daddy is making you work like Cinderella.”

I am kind of comforted though, it’s not only my daughter. My cousin John’s wife Denise, who is very funny, posted on my Facebook in reply to my comment about hauling rocks- “ Isn’t at why they make convicted felons?”

I love these girls.

Saturday's are for relaxing

2009-09-19T15:56:00.000-07:00

Another beautiful Saturday. I woke up early, the weather is perfect for all the yard work I have to do, that little nip in the air to remind you that fall is around the corner.
I have become an early riser, which works to my benefit today. Mo is going to the first of two Homecoming dances tonight and I will be helping her get ready, but first, yard work.
I love my yard, it's tiny and manageable. Unfortunately this summer I decided to have fun instead of managing my very manageable yard, and boy am I paying for it now.
Everything is still pretty and green, there is just way too much of it and the weeds have dug their grubby little roots in pretty deep due to my neglect.
I start in the front yard, mowing and raking and weeding and planting the tulips Terrie gave me. I was getting a little frustrated because the beautiful tree in my front yard kept hitting me in the head. Not really, I kept running into it when I was pushing the lawn mower but since when do I take the blame?

(this was after it's little haircut)

Anyway, I decided that tree needed a little grooming to show it who's boss. For those of you who don't know, I'm 5'4" so tree pruning is difficult, not impossible, just difficult. I have a small collection of tools, which I'm very proud of, so I get my trusty saws all and a hack saw and start chopping away. I piled all the branches I amputated on the side of the driveway I don't use until I can cut them up and fit them in the green waste can. Life is good.
In the house, I see that my beautiful Mo is awake, so I review the day's plans with her, shower, shave, fingernails, toenails, extensions, hair, makeup, jewelry, oh, and don't forget Keith's boutonniere Mom, what time can you pick that up. Anytime after twelve, we have plenty of time, they are not picking you up until 4. It's 11- 5 hours to pickup, we're fine.
Back to the yard, my wonderful, green happy place. After painting the fence gate I replaced last year I went to start on the back yard.
It's now almost one so I figure I'll take a break and run and get the boutonniere while Mo bathes. 3 hours to pickup- remember that, it's important.
I hop in the car, insert my key in the special little slot and turn.........nothing happens, no radio comes on, no little clicking sound, nothing. Complete silence. Ok, there must be a mistake, ummm, my car is the one that starts when I put the key in the little slot. So I try again. Nothing. Hmmm, let's see if the lights come on............oh wait, they are already on.
Last night Mo took my car to the Homecoming football game. You can guess the rest. Back into the house, upstairs, into the bathroom-
"Ok, we have a slight problem, the car won't start"
"What? It always starts." says Mo, she is my daughter.
" I know, but you left the lights on last night and now the battery is dead."
" No I didn't," (See above about not taking the blame, again, the kid is mine.)
" Ok, whatever, I'm gonna walk to the flower shop, it will take about two hours, you will have to do your own hair and nails, I'll help when I get back."
"Ok, Mommy" By this point there is serious panic in her eyes, I'm not sure if its about the boutonniere, or the car, I'll worry about that later.
" Wait!" I say in a moment of brilliance, "I'll take my bike"
"But I broke your bike" (Are you seeing the same pattern I am?)
"It's ok, I fixed it, I'll be 45 minutes at the most."

Ok, backpack, wallet, helmet,but wait, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, the bike has two flat tires. I call Trina, she is on the way to jump her hubby's vehicle, I call Terrie, straight to voicemail. Finally, I call Marty. He can be here in 20 minutes. Woo hoo, life is good!
Mo comes out of the bathroom, I tell her about the bike and that Marty will be here in 20 minutes, and my beautiful, wonderful, darling child says-
"But I'm naked." Yes, there is an argument for why some eat their young.

I go out in to the garage and realize that one half of my driveway is covered with branches so I quickly drag them to the other side of the yard. Then I get in the car to put it in neutral so I can push it out of the garage, and my lovely car will not come out of park unless the car is turned on, yes I turned the key, yes I had my foot on the brake, yes I read the owners manual. My car is parked on the left hand side of the garage, the little post that sticks out of the Tupperware under my hood, is on the left side of my car. The right side of my garage is storage. It's a two car garage, but a very small one.

(Does tht look like an engine to you?)

By the time Marty pulls up I'm almost in tears, not because of the boutonniere but because I'm afraid my car will never run again, and I won't be able to trade it in because I can't get it out of the freaking garage. Marty says, relax, we can do this, did you try putting the car in neutral? I think I might kill him.
He pulls his truck all the way up to my bumper, the jumper cables are too short. Not a problem he says, getting out his trusty tape measure, there is 7 and a half feet from the side of the garage to your car and the truck is 7 feet, all we have to do, is move these boxes.

It's now 2:30 just 1 and a half hours to pick up. We quickly empty the garage onto the front yard, prompting several people to stop and ask if we are having a yard sale, why oh why can't people just leave me the hell alone when I'm having a break down?

Ok, pull the truck in, cables reach, I'm able to breath again. Marty starts the car, and so wonderfully helps me put away all the stuff from the front yard.
Sorry, I say, thanks so much but I have to go pick up that damn flower.
Well, we made it, she looks beautiful, Keith looked very handsome when he picked her up and more than a little nervous. His mom promised to bring her straight home after the dance.
Me? Well, I'm drinking wine and watching the sun set and praying that next weeks Homecoming dance goes off without a hitch.

Older women inspire me

2009-09-15T15:48:00.000-07:00

It’s amazing how your prospective changes as you get older, the things you realize. I remember when I was a child, my mother, grandmother, older aunts, were just there. I didn't think of them as having thoughts, feelings, insecurities like I did. They were old, they were just there. It was almost as if I thought they existed just to be my mother, grandmother, aunt, etc, as if, outside of me, they didn't have a life or interests. They were old, they could not possibly understand anything about me, my friends, my life.

Now that I’m older, I realize these women who I have loved as if they were part of the furniture, may have actually had feelings, wants, desires, and- those things had nothing to do with me! How could that be, I was sure I was the center of the universe when I was younger, how could they have had a single thought that didn’t have to do with me?

Lately two women have been inspirational to me.Reminded me that I can still be something else when I grow up, or grow into the woman I will be. They have reminded me, at a time when I'm feeling like a middle aged adolescent, that I still have more and more and more to give, learn and be.

The first lady, Ivybean, I follow her on twitter, she is 104 and still tweets! She updates us on her life, the staff, TV shows they watch and what the other women think and feel. Did I mention she is 104? I love her, she is very optimist and upbeat,just getting a tweet from her makes me smile. She has seen so much in 104 years and adapted, she twitters for hell’s sake!

My second inspiration I just read about today, she is 107 and worried that her 37 year old husband may leave her for a younger woman. He is her 22nd husband, and just in case he has been eyeing the younger ladies, she has her eye on a 50 yr old that she would like to make husband 23. I say, you go girl!

These women inspire me to take charge of my life, keep learning new things, live large and set my sights on what I want and go for it.

I wonder if that beautiful boy from Kingbilly would like to be husband number 4 for me? I have quite a bit of catching up to do!

College? Seriously!

2009-09-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

Today we had Mo's SEOP, or student education occupation plan, for those of you as uniformed as I am. We sat in a little office with her guidance counselor, who was approximately six months older than Mo, and talked about LIFE AFTER HIGH SCHOOL.
They talked about ACT's and SAT's and Regence scholarships and credits needed, while I put on my reading glasses and pretended to follow along.
The whole thing came down to this- Mo is going to graduate, and, if she so chooses, go to college. My kid! Who'd a thunk it? I can't get her to pick her underwear up off the bathroom floor but apparently they can get her to go to school, and LIKE it!
We have struggled the past few years, me, because my kid is smarter than I am, and Mo, well, because she knows it. All homework related questions are met with an intelligent "Huh?" and then I take her for ice cream. May not help with physics but it sure helps hide what I don't know.
My baby, just yesterday it seems I was taking a million pictures as she walked to Kindergarten in her cute little dress wearing a backpack that was bigger than she was, and today, we are talking about visiting college campuses.
I'm positive we're not ready, I'm still adjusting to the fact that she drives, can I really let her go to school with the really big kids?
I need to stop watching the news, all the things that happen to girls on college campus's, spring break,basically anytime they are out of their mothers line of vision.
On the way out of that little office I said "Can't you just go back to kindergarten and start all over again?"
And my Mo said " Yes Mommy, but this time I'll be the teacher."

Our Skinny Obsession

2009-09-13T07:56:00.000-07:00

Who decided that being able to fit into size 2 jeans was a perfect female body? Oh wait, along with that size two hienie you need double D boobs. I don’t know about you, but how often does that happen in real life?

I was at my friends pool the other day and there was a couple there, both divorced, now dating, with their combined four children. He is a good looking guy, over six feet tall, broad shoulders, little bit of meat on his bones. She was a pretty, petite little blonde, late twenties, early thirties, very cute, but she was wearing a swimsuit that covered her basically from shoulder to mid thigh. The top came down to the top of the bottoms, loose fitting, and the bottoms were covered with a skirt, and every time she got out of the water she ran for a towel like she was naked.

We had a bbq, she didn’t eat anything, (while I had two hotdogs and all the chips I could fit in my gut), and we talked about girl stuff, I found out she is having a boob job next week, but feels she still needs to do something about her bottom and thighs. This woman has two children and is probably, at most, a size 4. What the hell crazy train is she on? She is funny, bright, articulate, beautiful, a good mom, but still, she is not perfect enough for society. Her boyfriend actually got a little offended when all of us, including the other men in the group, told her she didn’t need a boob job, or anything else, seems he likes the feel of fake boobs.

Are we meant to be thin, or are we fighting a losing battle? I’m not gonna lie, just like everyone else, I want to be thin, I want to look good in a bikini, I want to make my ex boyfriends eat their heart out when they see me, but is this the way we are supposed to be?

How did we get here? What happened to those curvy women that everyone loved? Marilyn Monroe was not a tiny woman, but no one denies that she was very sexy. How did we go from Marilyn Monroe’s version of beauty to today’s, eat nothing, purge, purge, purge, drink lemon juice, purge some more and maybe, just maybe you will be skinny. Not skinny enough of course, just skinny.

I know fat is not healthy, but I’m not talking about being obese. Isn’t being skinny by eating just enough to stay alive just as unhealthy as overeating?

Michael Jackson weighed 112 pounds when he died. Who would consider that a healthy weight for any 50 year old person over 4 feet tall? When can I get chubby and not care? When I’m 50? 60? 70? Dead?

I love food, all food, all the time. I’ve given up every liquid calorie, unless it’s alcoholic, I don’t even put sugar in my coffee any more, and I go to the gym 5-6 days a week for an hour and a half. Still, I’m on the chunky side of normal, seriously?

At the same time, we are a lazy society and we want instant gratification. We don’t want to work at weight loss by eating right and exercising, we want a magic pill, and sometimes one comes along, but them we find we are going to die from the heart problems it has given us.

I’m not a dieter, I’m much too lazy and too into self gratification. If I want chocolate, I eat chocolate, same goes for ice cream, cheesecake, chips, Big macs, and my biggest weakness, ju ju fish. I’ve just had to learn to really savor every bite, so that a little is all I need, oh, and I don’t keep those things in the house, so if I want them I have to leave the comfort of my home and seek them out. Somehow that makes them less appealing.

At work, someone is always on a diet. First there was Atkins, really, are we meant to live without potatoes? I think not. Then there was South beach, a little different, still not enough potatoes. Most recently it was the HCG diet, put some drops under your tongue three times a day, eat exactly what they tell you, which is less than 500 calories a day, and you will lose weight. Of course you will, that’s a freaking starvation diet!

I am trying not to care, I wear my bikini loud and proud, yes I have a little jiggle in my tummy, and a little bumbly on my hips, but dammit, I want to wear that bikini! I want Mo to see we are all beautiful, no matter what the package looks like, it’s our heart that shows our true beauty, not our six pack abs. I remember a time when I would look at overweight women in bikinis and think- What the hell was she thinking? Now I think,- You go girl.

Another sister blog... enjoy

2009-09-08T20:07:00.000-07:00

Well here i am again updating everyone on another Friday night line dancing event..... Missi you really need to come with us .......

OK here goes....
Well this week we got there early Nia had to work and so we got dropped off at 5:45 they don't open til 6 so here stood Ang, Mark and I like a bunch of alcoholics waiting til the doors opened, but the things you see while waiting...

Of course Mrs. Know Every dance was waiting outside the door you know the type she knows every step to every dance shes in her 60's ( I'm being nice ) She was at the door no one was gettin in ahead of her and next came Retard with her lovely haircut ( crew with faux hawk ) they were standing at the front door when all of the sudden Bigg Titties comes around the corner I almost died it took everything in Ang not to laugh out loud... she was wearing a white peasant long sleeved top tucked into a blue jean mini skirt that's right another mini and her brown boots well I finally got an up close look at those legs which I must tell you were orange ( in some spots ) from the rub on self tanner.... not a good look because it made her age spots show even more. Then the doors open as they rush in we slowly make our way.. pay our cover and head to the bar for our usual draft mug and then on to our table, right side next the the dance floor opening....

Well the usual suspects were there Sister wife wore her long black skirt sleeveless top hair down and brown boots and yes she had her normal shot of whiskey ( I THINK ) Twitchy Ass was there came over to our table again to introduce himself ( again ) he did ask if either of us knew how to two step I didn't but Ang did but told him it had been a long time.. she was afraid he would ask her and pop his penis on her while dancing. Old Man Kyle was there... I'm not sure if you know him he is an older man, very thin, very good dancer, knows all the moves, has great rhythm and for some reason reminds me of my nephew Kyle ( or what I think he will be like when his in his 70's ) 80's chic was there, plastic face was also and their mom. The disappointment of the night was Booger and National were not there how very sad for us. But to our surprise Toddler Legs made a come back ( for those of you who don't know her she is a chunky lady in her 40's and when she walks or dances its like watching a toddler trying to walk for the first time ) she never bends her knees so she is a sight to see dance.

So the dancing began and we did all the usual line dances. Ang tried to learn a new one but got confused once the music came on... she did a tribute to Missi when she went out for the Mambo # 5 ( secretly she loves the dance ) a special treat tonight there was NO Band so it was just the DJ taking requests I think we did every line dance we knew and then it happened. A crowd of young 20 somethings came in, tight jeans, low tops, push up bras and they wanted to do the cha cha and the electric slide even though they didn't know how. So they stood there watching us and trying to do it along with us when in reality they were just in the way so their solution was to shake their ass and grind on each other, sad, sad, sad... but we did laugh and dance and drank a little bit more then usual. Wehad a great time making fun of our friends and showing off for the young girls who thought they knew it all.. way to go Ang....

Things I'd like to see.........

2009-09-08T18:36:00.000-07:00

I was walking to the grocery store, don't worry, it's next door but I still feel all earth conscious when I do it, almost tree huggerish, anyway, I was thinking about some things this world could use. So, if you see any of these, remember, someone stole the idea from my blog and I deserve royalties!

1. An arm jiggle fetish. Come on, you know you have it too. Sometimes, at work, I move my arm and from the corner of my eye I see that the bottom half of it keeps moving for a full two seconds after the rest of it stops. Arm jiggle deserves love too, and if we have a fetish for it I can stop lifting those weights that aren't working anyway.

2. A discreet fan, you know, a noiseless one that I can put under my skirt when I'm having a hot flash and no one will look at me like I fondle puppies.

3. A lotion to dissolve foot crusties. It's hard to feel sexy when you are in bed taking sandpaper to the bottom of your feet.

4. Retractable hair. Some days you can wear it long and sexy, some days short and sassy. Not extensions, too time consuming. I want to be able to spin my arm in a circle like that doll I had when I was little and make my hair shorter and then just pull on it to make it longer. You know you would buy it.

5. Reading glasses that instantly make me more attractive, instead of turning me into a librarian, and not in a good way either!

6. A coat tree that doesn't tip over when all the coats are on one side.

7. A thermostat that can sense your internal body temperature and adjust accordingly. Could be bad though, lots of people may freeze to death as a result of Mom's menopause.

8. A radio that can play two different stations at one time but you can only hear the one you want, and the same goes for the other person in the car. Would make driving with teenagers much less stressful.

That's it for now, like I said, it was a short walk, the mind just keeps going unfortunately and you my friends, get to reap the rewards of my weirdness.

Yellowstone and camping

2009-09-08T17:01:00.000-07:00

This was my second trip to Yellowstone and of course it brings back a ton of memories. My mind is like a little kid with ADD, jumping around all the time, follow, if you can.
When the kids were smaller, me, Steve, Trina, Darren, Angie, David and our assorted children did everything together, including camping. We were the family we made for ourselves in Utah. Once, over Memorial Day weekend we went to Yellowstone. The memories of that time are bittersweet.
Our kids were all so little, we were all still married with no idea of what was to come. Not to say that the weekend was all sunshine and roses, Steve and I argued, we always did when we were camping. That man would take everything from the house that wasn't nailed down and then we would have to pack it in and clean it up. Drove me nuts! But it was fun and Trina will be happy to know that the benches around Old Faithful are no longer metal!
The kids got to see life flight land in our campsite when someone rolled a four wheeler up the hill from us. The also scared us to death by running and screaming when they saw a mama moose and her babies. They screamed bear, the guys all took off running up the hill, I lost as shoe and about ten years off my life. We played hide and seek in the dark, I skinned my knees, just like the kids. Buffalo scared Angie by coming right up to the car on her side. We about starved to death on the eight hour ride through the park Steve took us on. In the caves around the park we have pictures of Mo crying, somehow my short little baby, the tiniest person in the group, kept banging her head in the caves. The six foot men in the group went through there with no problem, my three foot tall baby girl banged her head so many times I thought she was going to be cross eyed. Oh, and I hit her in the head once with a flashlight, it was an accident of course.
We camped so much, especially Trina and I with our families. We would come home on Sunday, clean everything so we could repack to leave again on Friday, after a while it was pure hell. No one should camp that much, especially with toddlers.
I miss those times, those memories and the kids all being small. I miss the laughter, mostly at me, because I'm kind of brain dead and will believe most anything you tell me. Like the time Trina, Darren and Steve told me the bears were going to eat me because I got my period on a camping trip. When the dog pounced on me in the middle of the night I pissed my sleeping bag, I thought it was a bear. They got a good laugh out of that.
I miss sitting around the campfire with Trina after the men and children were asleep, drinking coffee, talking and laughing. We always had to pee before we went to bed and we went together because it was dark and we were a little afraid. That damn Trina is a fast pee'er and every time she would finish, pull up her pants, start running, yelling "BEAR", and every time I fell for it. Every. Single. Time.She still busts a gut laughing at the memory of me running with my sweat pants still around my ankles. Bitch.
This time was different, not better or worse, just different. We stayed in a cabin instead of a tent. We only had one child with us, we listened to adult music, not what the kids wanted to listen to, I didn't feel responsible for anyone, I just got to enjoy the scenery, really take it all in without worrying that Mo was going to get eaten by a bear, or fall in a hot spring, or cork herself again in a cave.
It was too quiet, too clean, too mellow. I miss half eaten granola bars, chip crumbs and juice boxes. I miss the kids arguing about who saw the moose first, I miss my baby being little enough to carry when necessary.
Life changes, time moves on. Mo recently did a survey on her myspace and one of the questions was " Who carried you last?' Her answer was " I don't know" I hope it was me, but I think it was probably her dad.

Driving to Idaho

2009-09-08T16:09:00.000-07:00

Ok,. I'm used to the windshield being covered with bugs on a road trip, or really anytime you are on the freeway for more than ten minutes. You always know if you are on the freeway for any length of time you are going to have to do some major scrubbing every time you stop for gas. We know this, we are prepared.
Or so we thought! Marty and I are driving along, Donovan is in the backseat watching a movie, Mercedes is in the car in front of us with Rick, Becky and Nariah.
We're listening to the radio, talking about all the things we want to do on this long weekend and basically enjoying the kid free silence.
BAM!!I swear a freaking eagle hit the windshield. I was surprised it didn't break, that's how loudly it hit. As I watched in horror it slid down and jammed itself under the windshield wiper on my side. Ok, maybe it wasn't an eagle but it was easily the size of a freaking hummingbird. I was mildly afraid, waiting for a whole flock of the things to attack the truck for killing their leader.
Did I mention the guts? They sprayed up the entire windshield on my side. I'm freaking out, Marty is laughing like a hyena because I'm trying to climb into the backseat to get away from the guts.
Then I notice, some of the guts are light blue, and the stripped head of this thing is orange. I thought we were going to Idaho but apparently we have stepped into another dimension of weird bugs. I just hope they only eat boys on this planet.

Mommy, mommy, mommy......

2009-09-03T15:10:00.000-07:00

Recently I got an email from my mother telling me she is proud of the woman I am and also thanking me for making her a mom. That’s right, I started it all, if I hadn’t decided to be born she would still be a pregnant teenager.

That email got me thinking about how becoming a mom changes us. It is such a huge change, even if you fall into it by accident, you can’t help but be changed by it.

Think of all the things that would not be part of your life if you had never become mom. As I look around the house I see the baby blanket draped over the couch in the family room, the one my sixteen year old has had since her first birthday and still cannot go anywhere, except to school, without. Then there are the women’s shoes that are not mine. Bookcases full of books I haven’t read. Ravioli in the pantry, Mountain Dew in the fridge. Music I would never have heard, TV shows I would never have watched, I mean really, who watches The Secret Life of the American Teenager, if you don’t have a teenager to watch it with you. Hair extensions, bright eye shadow colors, rubber bands for braces, and contact lens stuff clutters the bathroom, not mine, hers.

This wonderful little person who is growing into such a wonderful young lady has brought so many things into my life, but she has brought so much more out in me.

It’s no longer all about me, it’s all about Mo. From the second the fertility center said it worked, life became about Mo. I ate better, I slept better, I was happier. Before she was even born she taught me things I wasn’t aware of, until now. Like how to walk with an extra twenty five pounds on your front, that is an important skill, considering how long you carry that baby around in your arms after it’s born.

Then, once they put her in my arms I learned that a human being has a capacity to love that we are not even aware of until we love someone totally dependent on us. I learned patience, starting with labor, which will not be hurried even when you are sure you are going to die. I learned to laugh instead of cry when things didn’t go my way. I learned that the bowel habits of a newborn will consume you. I stepped out of my comfort zone, so that Mo would never feel constrained by my inability to be comfortable in certain situations.

Being Mo’s mom made me want to be a better person, for her. I’ve learned in the last sixteen years that I knew nothing before she was born, and now that she is sixteen, I know nothing again. I’ve learned to do things I don’t like, so that she will give new people, places, experiences a chance. I eat my vegetables, all of them, Mo doesn’t, but one day she will, for her babies. I found that I have a whole slew of mom sayings and one day my daughter will catch herself saying them to her kids and have the same reaction I did “ Oh shit, did my mother just come out of my mouth?”

“Eat your dinner, kids in Ethiopia are starving”

“Do what you have to do and you will have plenty of time to do what you want to do.”

“Don’t cross your eyes, they’ll get stuck like that.”

“To have a friend you need to be a friend”

“Little girl, go find your real parents” (her father made me stop saying that after she asked if she was really adopted)

“Life’s not fair baby girl, suck it up and get over it”

“Pull your pants up, you’re selling crack again”

“Stop humping her head, no one likes that” (That’s for the dog, but it is an important life lesson, cause really, no one likes that)

“Boys are dumb and smell like ass”

“I love you and I’m so very lucky to be your mom”

“Clean your room before the health department comes in and shuts us down”

“Boys have cooties”

“ You can do anything if you just apply yourself”

“I’m going to sell you to the Gypsy’s for beer money if you don’t stop…(fill in the blank with annoying child habit)

“No smoking crack or surfing porn while I’m gone” ( I like to cover all the bases because I have found if you do not specifically forbid it they will say- but you didn’t say I couldn’t, so now, I cover everything)

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine”

I can’t imagine becoming this other person at such a young age like my mom and sister did, but they did it and managed not to kill and eat their first born, which Kay and I are very grateful for. So thanks mom, for not killing me, although, I now know I deserved it. There is a reason why God starts us out so small, I don’t know anyone who would keep a PMS’ing teenager if they hadn’t loved them always.

I’m still becoming the person that being Mo’s mom makes me. Every day, every year, we grow into a different phase of it. This year’s phase is that my baby is driving and really having a life of her own, making choices that are more important than what to wear to homecoming, and I have to let her.

So thank you my beautiful, talented, wonderful, one of a kind, baby girl. Thank you for turning me into your Mom and being patient with me while I learned (I’m still learning, so please, still be patient). I would walk through fire for you.

2009-09-03T09:35:00.001-07:00

And another- I can't tell you what to do about your eyeballs.

2009-09-03T09:26:00.001-07:00

Today's Joyceism- if i'm on my no white diet i won't participate in the feeding.

Joyceisms

2009-09-02T19:31:00.000-07:00

I've been wandering around the house, sweating to death because the cooler is broken, giggling under my breath.
What is making me giggle as I drown in my own sweat? Joyceisms. My friend Joyce, the one who is afraid of walmart people and dwarfs, has a way with words. She doesn't mean to be funny, it just comes out that way.
Some classic Joyceisms:

" My ex husband, who I married."
" Somewhere in the conversation, I felt large."
" Things will be fine as soon as they fix the sun" (She was talking about the blinds at work)
" Does someone still have access to my toaster?"

And the one that is making me giggle so hard tonight, we had a conversation on the phone and she said,

" I don't think I can go tonight Carol, I'm standing under the cooler with my skirt pulled up, sweating like a farm animal in my large lady underwear>"

She kills me.

But wait.........there's more!

2009-09-02T18:37:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to Red Butte to see Bonnie Raitt and Taj Mahal, aren't you glad you get updates on my social life?
Anyway, one thing keeps happening, dwarfs dance in front of us. Not real dwarfs, I wouldn't make fun of them,( well, I would but not here where everyone could read and judge me) but little tiny women with major butt shaking moves.
My friend Joyce, you know her, she's scared of the Walmart people, well, she's scared of the little people too. I think she was traumatized by the munchkins as a small child.
Every concert we go to there is a little, tiny woman dancing in front of us. This concerts little woman was with a man so tall that when they stood side by side her crotch came to his knee. Which brought Joyce's imagination to the front as she tried to figure out exactly what he did with her, I told her to look away but it consumed her.
These tiny women have more energy than most five year olds and last nights little lady was no exception. She danced and bounced and shook her ass until..............she tumbled backwards into the tiny childs chair her partner had brought for her.
And thats some funny shit, I don't care who you are!

Walmart people

2009-09-02T18:16:00.000-07:00

I don't feel so bad anymore for making fun of the people line dancing. Have you seen the Walmart blog? I think some of those people line dance with us. If you haven't seen them its www.peopleofwalmart.com. Freaking hilarious!

My friend Joyce hates shopping at Walmart because "those people" are there. You know the ones. The entire family shares one set of teeth, her ass is the size of Texas and he weighs one hundred pounds soaking wet but struts around like a peacock saying things like " Woman, stop spendin' all the damn money, I need beer and cigarettes"

And did I mention she is dead sexy?

What are people thinking when they leave the house? Wait, I know what they are thinking, cause I think the same thing when I roll into Walmart in my plaid pajama pants, fuzzy slippers, wife beater and no bra- It's only Walmart, who cares?

Well after seeing these pictures, which anyone can take and post, you can bet your sweet bippy you won't catch me in Walmart looking like this anymore.......

Oh well, at least I did my make up that time.

From now on when I stop at Walmart to use my WIC vouchers to pick up milk for the kids, I'll be ready.

Don't hate me cause you aint' me!

A sister blog............

2009-08-31T16:13:00.000-07:00

My sister Terrie will fill you all in about the line dancing I missed Friday night, prepare to be amused!

Well I guess its up to me to inform all of our Friday night line dancing since you were being responsible.....

Well to start, to our surprise Big Titties was no where in sight all night.....

Sister wife was in rare form again dancing so hard and so wild I'm thinking she may have had 2 shots instead of just her normal one... and when she danced she took up the entire floor

Of course Booger and National were there and as usual he was wearing the required black wife beater

And I was surprised to see twitchy ass he was not in his normal attire.... he was in a do- rag and baseball cap.. very rough looking and only stayed for a few dances... and when he left it was on a purple motorcycle... i guess he didn't like the choice of men that night either

Now I guess since I have covered the normal crowd of friends we made some new ones which I'm sure you my sister can figure out at least one... the other 2 are newbies...

The first one is there every week she knows every dance.. shes maybe in her late 30's early 40's she tall skinny with what Mark calls the qtip hair cut well once Ang really started watching her dance she came up with her name which is "Garment Girl" her jeans were a little tight on her legs which allowed you to see the garments under after that there was no other name to fit...

The second new friend happens to be a new friend which i might add wanted more than just to be my friend yes the first time a man asked me to dance would be from him... let me describe him in the best way i can... he's short scruffy looking messy haired west Virginia back woods man who i think may have been slightly retarded when he asked i wasn't sure what he had said.... hence the name west Virginia.....

And now the third new friend we were sitting at our normal table waiting for a round of drinks when in came a girl mid to late 20's kinda on the chunky side with a bright pink silky top very lowwwww cut to show off her very sagging boobs the rest of the night we kept thinking anytime now one of those girls are going to pop right out... so we gave her the nick name utters... she they reminded me of a cow ready to milk...

We had a good time danced alot Ang did the mambo # 5 just for you and i have to say she has it done... but it wasn't the same with out the 3 sisters....

Another baby birthday party, another cake

2009-08-30T08:48:00.000-07:00

So Mo's sister, the irrepressible Ivy Dawn just turned one. Of course we made the cake, I don't have a a picture of it yet, they are still on Mo's camera, at her fathers, but it was pretty boring as far as baby birthday cakes go. She loved it anyway, the face that child has, cracks me up! I don't think she could get any cuter.

I didn't go line dancing with my sisters this week because I was getting ready for Ivy's birthday and a bbq I was having, so I had to be responsible and do chores. So if one of my sisters would like to write a guest blog about their experience with all of our dancing friends, I would be more than happy to publish it here. (HInt, hint)

So Mo and I made birthday cakes for Ivy and enjoyed every minute of her birthday party. I just have one question- How many twelve month old shoplifters do you know? That's the only reason I can think of for the packaging that goes into baby toys.

Most babies have an attention span of 4.2 seconds and with three adults and one teenager anxiously tearing into toy packages it still took five to ten minutes to open one freaking toy!

Oh, and we took lots and lots of pictures of the three adults who were trying to assemble Ivy's first ride on toy. It couldn't have been more confusing if the directions were written in Chinese. At one point Steve wore the handlebars as a hat because he couldn't figure out how to make them fit on the toy. Pictures will follow on my Facebook.

Last night at the bbq Jen and Tim brought the girls. I realized that my reputation does proceed me.

As Jen was getting the girls ready to come to the bbq, Mylee wanted to wear a little pink necklace and bracelet set. She asked Jen if she rememeber who gave her those, Jen said she didn't rememeber, and my beautiful Mylee said " Yes you do Mommy, it's the lady who makes my cakes."

At least she's not still calling me Grandma!

More line dancing trauma

2009-08-30T08:22:00.000-07:00

Oh my blogging friends, I have been ignoring you, not on purpose, I've just been trying to get a life. You can see how well that's working out because here I am, back in front of the computer.

Which brings us back to the lovely friends we last saw line dancing. We talked about Bigg Titties and the mini skirt, let's move on, I don't think I can relive that.

Sister wife.....I just love that woman, the way she rubs her hand across her ass when she's dancing, and the way she moves that ass! Sister wife is not a really heavy woman, just a little chubby, but she definately does have a big, BIG bottom. The last time we saw Sister wife she was preparing for Halloween. Oh wait, it's August, she's just learning to do make up, she's not allowed to wear any at the compound, and boy does it show. The eyebrows were dark brown slashes, the lips bright red slashes, and I think a clown helped her put on her blush. Someone help this woman!

Dear, dear National. Out here in the wild, wild west of Utah, there is an insult that I never heard anywhere else- "She looks like a rodeo girl". What that means is she is a bubbly blonde, with 80's hair, high waisted Mommy jeans and has the parade wave down pat from riding a horse as Miss Rodeo Queen. When I hear-she looks like a rodeo girl- I see National, rocking her farmers tan.

For those of you who want to know, Booger was resplendent in a black wife beater- he was shaking things up a little bit.

Before I go, just a little fashion advice for my line dancing friends. You know those high waisted mommy jeans with no pockets on the butt that made your butt look so cute in the 80's? Well, stop wearing them, cause now that your front is bigger than your back, it's a very jacked up look and some of us can't help but wonder " Doesn't she have a mirror?"

Oh the horror of it all...........

2009-08-22T14:34:00.000-07:00

So, once again my sisters and I went line dancing. First, before I make fun of other people, and you know I'm going to, I have to make fun of us.
Ok, Angie is all little and so when she gets lost in the dance it's not quite as noticeable as when Terrie and I get lost, but she does get lost sometimes. Mambo number 5 gets her every time, but I make her do it anyway.
Terrie, she is the best line dancer out of the three of us, she just gets it, Angie and I struggle, we are the kids on the short bus when it comes to learning new dances, Terrie, well, sometimes she just laughs at us but don't make her do a turn, she will turn the wrong way every time! And make sure she has a bra on, she knows what I'm talking about!
Me, well, I must confess, sometimes I look like I forgot to take my seizure medication. They go left, I go right, they go right, I go left, who cares, it's all fun right? I'm sure somewhere, someone is blogging about my inability to go in the right direction. Once, when I was learning to do the two step I actually screwed up so bad my dance partner and I fell over. Not tripped and fell, fell like a damn tree, straight over, he wouldn't be my partner after that, what a sissy boy. Is it my fault I can't follow? Ok, maybe it is, but enough about me!
So last night, first of all we had a moment of silence because twitchy ass and ballet hands were not there, you think they were together? Inquiring minds want to know.
Bigg Titties was there in all her 70 yr old glory and dear blog friends, I wish I had a picture because I'm not sure I can do her justice. First of all her hair was pinned up and had a flower in it. As we move south, she was wearing a long sleeve scoop necked cream shirt, very tight to show those boobies in all their glory, moving still farther south, she had a darker cream belt on. So far, not too bad, if you have a weak stomach now would be a good time to cover your eyes, I wish I had.
Bigg Titties was wearing..................not cloven hoof jeans, which I promise never to complain about again...........she was wearing a MINI SKIRT!!!!! But wait, there is more! Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, the mini skirt was cream colored with brown flowers and........it was sheer! Oh cover the children's eyes! This wasn't just any mini skirt, it was right under her butt, or where her butt used to be! If you are over 25 you know that gravity is not your friend, I saw much more old lady butt crack than I ever dreamed I would. Bigg Titties sure does love to twirl and kick! And her leg skin doesn't fit her legs anymore. This outfit was completed by brown cowboy boots, would have been very cute, if she were only 50 years younger.
Which brings me to today's dilemma.. skinny or fat when you are old? Bigg Titties is thin, active and in good shape for someone who lived through the depression, but the skin on her legs doesn't fit. It hung in wrinkles, front and back of her legs. Chubby women, their skin fits their legs. So what do I do?
I go to the gym everyday to keep my ass from becoming it's own continent, and also because I would like to get married again before dementia sets in, but what about later?
I'm not a happy camper that my face skin has become larger than my face. I used to be cute, everything was firm and well defined but now, one order of french fries and I have jowls. So I think that as soon as I get married I'm telling him I'm getting fat,I want my damn skin to fit so when I am 70 and rocking a mini skirt, and I will be, I promise you, I may be chubby but at least my damn skin won't hang in wrinkles over my knees.

The food we eat

2009-08-20T13:54:00.000-07:00

Today we went to lunch for Joyce’s birthday, her birthday is not until Sunday but we wanted to go to lunch today. We went to the taco wagon. Doesn’t sound like a big deal but for me it was a sacrifice that I made for a friend. You wanna know why? I don’t like to eat anywhere that doesn’t have running water.

Here in Utah there is a taco wagon on every corner. I never eat there, first of all, I only speak English, they only speak Spanish- who knew carna asada was some kind of pork thing? Can’t you just say “some kind of pork thing”? I am one of those white people who is sure that since you don’t speak English if I just speak s-l-o-w-e-r and much, much LOUDER, you will understand. I’m always amazed when they don’t. So due to the language barrier I have no idea what kind of food they are giving me because after several moments of speaking slowly and loudly, I just start nodding my head to everything they say.

Then there is the handwashing thing. “But they wear gloves” everyone tells me. So today on my self sacrificing birthday lunch, I watched them. Yes, they wear gloves, the same ones while they keep touching everything. Hmmmm, didn’t make me feel better.

And while I was waiting patiently for my lunch- I think it was a chicken torta (what’s a torta?), the lady fixing my food stopped what she was doing to watch TV. There is a little TV in the taco wagon ( no water but apparently plenty of electricity) and there was a Hispanic soap opera on, must have been a juicy part because she couldn’t look away, and neither could I, I never saw a TV channel that didn’t speak English. I know how I sound, I am not a bigot, I just want to understand. My world has been expanded by taco wagons and the Spanish version of All My Children.

Managing your online life after you're dead

2009-08-18T16:19:00.000-07:00

I’m not making this up, that was an actual headline for a news article. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about while I’m alive, now I have to worry about my email and facebook and myspace and blogs AFTER I’M DEAD!!!!!

The article went on to tell us, oh uninformed public, that now, you don’t have to worry about your online persona after you are dead. Why you might ask? There are companies who will take care of this for you! For a small annual fee they will store all of your passwords, account log ins, a “Legacy Letter”, funeral instructions and “unspeakable secrets” to be revealed only after your death. And just to make sure they don’t miss your death, they will send you automated emails, “at a frequency determined by you” and after a specific number of unanswered emails they will email the people you have listed as your emergency contacts and tell them how to access all the stuff you have online. Why didn’t I think of that?

Imagine getting the following letter:

Dear Sir/ Madam,

Your mother set up this legacy account so that in the event of her untimely passing, you can have access to all of her online activities, including the email account pastyfacedslut@doooomeeeeeee.com. We have moved all your mother’s pertinent log in information for all of her accounts along with her funeral wishes to the aforementioned account, the password for this account is 696969.

Sorry for your loss, we understand this is a very difficult time. If there is anything we can do to help you with pastyfacedslut’s email account, please contact us.

Ummm, some things should die with you. Also, what if I forget to update any of my funeral information because I thought I had plenty of time and Mo buries me in the bikini I thought I looked so hot in ten years ago? Who’s fault is that? Poor Mo, she will have to put a disclaimer on the funeral cards:

“Please avert your eyes, she knows not what she does”

And the more I think about it the more depressed I feel that I have no unspeakable secrets for Mo to find out when I’m gone. I never slept with a Kennedy, I didn’t rob a 7-11, she is not Michael Jackson’s love child, I never even drove the wrong way on a one way street!

That’s it, I have some things to rectify. I’m going to find some unspeakable secret things to do so when I’m gone and Mo get’s the form letter above she will blush and then say- “Oh yeah, that’s my Momma!”

When I fall I'm alive

2009-08-15T20:55:00.000-07:00

Hot August nights, or something more beautiful. I round the corner, he comes toward me, we talk, smile. His words fall all around me, his eyes dart to the side, to the shadows that play there. He also wants to watch the dancers in this elaborate mating ritual.

We move to the deck, the view is better, we see the dancers come together, move apart, disappointed, disjointed, falling away, their smiles fading then reappearing for the next round.

His eyes search my face, looking for what he must find. I know he won’t find it there, but still, I let him search. He asks a question, I hesitate. To take the hand he offers mean letting go of the hand I hold, the one I fall so freely from and to. Will he stop the fall?

Smiling, the lie falls easily from my lips, as I walk away he picks it up and puts it in his pocket to be taken out later, turned over and over looking for the truth.

I realize as I let go of his hand and the hand I have been clinging to, falling is my destiny. Not falling feels like a trap, a death sentence. I was born to fall, gracefully, slowly, bumping into days, weeks, worlds, being held for a moment and left to fall again.

When I forget to fall I struggle to find what I don’t want, then when it has me in its grasp I can’t breath and must be free. I fight against what I fought so hard for, so I can continue my fall, so I can breath again, be me again.

I spread my arms wide, relishing this fall, this time, this moment before I become part of another moment. Living the destiny my mother gave me when I fell from her body and began this journey of falling into the life that suits me, moment by moment.

Catching up with old friends

2009-08-13T17:21:00.000-07:00

Isn’t the internet a wonderful thing for catching up with people you haven’t seen in forever? It used to be that if you lost touch with your best friend from high school the only way you were going to see her again was by accident. Or maybe at the high school reunion.

I, for one, never go to my high school reunion. It wasn't fun then, what makes everyone think it will be fun now? I think the only people who go are the jocks and the cheerleaders, just to keep the gossip mill going. No thank you, my life has moved past that, thankfully. I have a whole new slew of friends to gossip about! :)

Now, thanks to the internet, Google, Myspace and Facebook, you can find just about anyone, even if they would prefer that you not find them. But at least they can't see how red your face is when they remind you of that time in the graveyard!

Recently, thanks to Facebook, I have found some people that I knew when I was a child. One of them was my crush in fourth grade. My how time flies. I’ve spent some time, online and on the phone, catching up with them, their kids, my kid, their job, my job, remember when?

It’s fun but one thing makes me crazy. Why do people think that saying “ You haven’t changed a bit, you look just like you did in high school” is a compliment?

So what they are saying is that even when I was young and hot I looked like a middle aged woman. That pisses me off, I need new friends!

Not the boss of me

2009-08-12T14:10:00.000-07:00

It’s finally happened. I tried to hide it, to make my daughter think I am omnipotent but somehow, someway, she figured it out-I am not the boss of her!

Monday my beautiful Mo and I had a bit of a loud discussion about her boyfriend. I have had enough, I tried to be patient, kill him with kindness, the whole reverse psychology thing. Game over, can’t do it anymore so I broke the cardinal rule, did the thing I said I would never do.

“This is it Mo, this cannot continue, you can’t see him anymore.” Drawing myself up to my entire 5 feet 4 inches, “ I FORBID IT!”

“ Really?” as she stood up to her full 5 feet 3 ½ inch height. “ I’m 16, this is my life, my relationship, AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”

Shit, she’s right, I had just hoped it would take her longer to figure that out, like after she was married.

I remember the good old days (less than 12 years ago) when I knew everything and had the final word on all subjects. Mo had all the questions and I had all the answers. Most of the time I tried to reason with her, give her a real answer to her questions.

Me- Stop putting Froot Loops up your nose.
Mo- Why?
Me- Because they will get stuck and you won't be able to breath.
Mo-Why
Me- Because you are supposed to eat them, not stick them up your nose.
Mo- Why?
Me- Because I said so.

Ah, it was a simpler time. I was the Mom so my word was law. I knew why rain falls down instead of up, I knew why carrots are good for you and dirt is not, I knew why dogs sniffed each others butts so it only stood to reason that she should do everything I say, because I knew everything.

Not so much anymore. I know nothing and I cannot make her do anything she doesn't want to do.

We know this from the very first time they run from us as toddlers, we can’t make them do anything. We can try and guide them, help them make good decisions. Try to make them think we know all and see all and that the most important thing is listening to your mother and doing what you are told. But short of chaining them in the basement we can’t MAKE them do anything.

Now we are in this weird place. I knew it was coming but I’m still not ready for it. My baby knows she is not a little girl anymore. She knows I don’t know everything, or even most things. Mo knows it is time for her to start making her own way in this world.

In less than two years my little girl will legally be an adult. She reminds me of this all the time, and tells me I need to start letting her make her own decisions and live her own life. There are still so many things to protect her from, more so it seems, than when she was a toddler.

Who decided 18 is the age when you are magically transformed into an adult? She’s not ready. I'm not ready. So the dance starts now, Mo pulling away, me trying to hang on. Mo trying to figure out the woman she will be, me only seeing the baby she was.

I will have to learn how to talk to this grown up daughter of mine in a way that lets her know that I respect the woman she is becoming but it is still my job to guide her. And Mo will have to learn to talk to this Mother of hers as an adult.

It's time for me to let her steer her own ship, to hope that the things her father and I have taught her are in there, and she hears them, to hope she respects herself, her parents and others enough to do the right thing and not just the easy thing. And to hope that eventually, we will come full circle, and she will need me again.

Until then, I will watch from the sidelines, always ready to catch her when she falls and hoping with all of my heart that she never needs me to.

I’m just not ready

The line dancing sisters

2009-08-10T17:01:00.000-07:00

Friday night was fun, as you can imagine. We laughed until we cried, well Terrie cried, Angie and I made fun of her.
It wasn't as fun as it usually is because some of our favorites weren't there. Oh, don't worry, Sister Wife was on the prowl, as was Bigg Titties, but Booger and National were sadly missing, as was Ballet Hands.
I forgot to mention Ballet Hands before, well, I didn't forget,I was just saving her for later. She is 45ish and moves her hands and arms like a ballet dancer to every dance. Just imagine Boot Scooting Boogie with ballet arms thrown in. Funniest thing ever. And if she can't move her arms to the song, she points the direction she is going- THROUGH THE ENTIRE SONG!
And then there is Terries, favorite- Twitchy Ass. This man is late 50's, short, in pretty good shape for a short older guy. And he can move his ass in a way that maks pole dancers jealous. And he does this penis popping thing. Enough said about that, you'll just have to use your imagination.
There were some people who aren't regulars so we had to come up with names on the spot. Like Leather Boy, the cutest, gayest, best dancing biker you ever saw, I was gonna change him,convince him to play for the other team, but then I saw his mother. We were actually making fun of her because she looked a little challenged, so I decided I couldnt' change him because then our children would be challenged, and then I remembered, oh wait- I don't havea freaking uterus, we are not having babies, I just wanna bump uglies with him!
And that was our night, Terrie cried, Twitchy popped his penis, we drooled over Leather Boy and watched to see if Big Titties fell over. You should have been there, it was a blast.

Feeeeeling a little siiiiiilly

2009-08-08T07:47:00.000-07:00

Just some random ads from back in the day. Did people really believe this stuff?

Ok, that one is still true!

Yummy lard, blueberry, chocolate, strawberry, oh wait, can fat really make you
happy? Sign me up!

Everyone needs a fag now and again. Freaking hysterical!

Line dancing and people watching, oh my!

2009-08-07T14:06:00.000-07:00

A night out with my sisters, what fun! We are going line dancing, which in itself is fun, but the most fun of all, is people watching. If you have never been to a country bar, you should go, you are in for a treat. I know we shouldn’t make fun of other people, but it’s so much damn fun.

We’ve been going line dancing for a while, although we took about two months off. The same people come week after week and from watching them we have given them all nicknames, well not all, but quite a few. We can’t help it, these people have earned these names.

Let’s start with Booger. We were sitting at our table, minding our own business, when we noticed this man sitting at another table, picking his nose. Gross!! We laughed about it, then he stood up to dance and we about peed our pants. He is probably early thirties, with a long pony tail under his cowboy hat. That’s all that was under that cowboy hat. When he took it off we discovered that he was bald except for a little fringe around the side and his pony tail. Wait! There’s more! He has a beer gut that is so big it hides his enormous belt buckle and……….he was wearing a white wife beater. Be still my heart, I may have just found the man of my dreams!

Then Booger’s girlfriend came in. She was wearing mom jeans, you know the ones, they start somewhere above your navel, a flannel shirt, unbuttoned and untucked, and a tank top. Doesn’t sound that bad does it? She had no bra on, and her poor little boobs were hanging over the waistband of her jeans. If she rolled them up and stuffed them in a bra she would have seemed quite well endowed. The funniest part though was when Terrie’s boyfriend said “ I haven’t seen boobs like that since National Geographic” Now we just call her National, and it cracks us up every time.

Sister wife is there every week. We think that it is her night out without the kids, maybe she got that instead of her weekly sex date with her shared hubby. Now if you don’t live in Utah you may not understand this, but we are the polygamy capital of the west. The Mormons, many, many moons ago, decided having more than one wife was a good idea, especially if you married them when they were 14. Any way, if you live here you can spot a sister wife (what all the women who are married to one man are called) from a mile away. They have this big swoopy bang that stands up like a bad 80’s hairdo, apparently the higher your pouf the more righteous you are, and they usually wear prairie dresses and have big bottoms. Well, our friend Sister wife doesn’t wear the prairie dress but she has the big pouf and the big bottom, which she uses with all her might. She dances and shakes those hips, in a very exaggerated way, and is constantly rubbing her butt check. It’s freaking hilarious! We’ve even witnessed her throwing back a shot or two, wonder if she tells the bishop about that?

Then there is Bigg Titties. This lady is freaking 65, at least, and has a very large, very perky rack. Thank you Dr Feelgood! From across the room she is actually cute, she is petite and can dance. Once you get close you see that she is much older than you originally thought and her jeans are so tight that her camel toe is more like a cloven hoof. Scary, scary, scary! And she is so proud of her boobs that she shimmies in every song. It’s amazing that her little stick body can hold up those goodyear blimp sized boobs.

Ok, that’s enough for now, I’m starting to feel like a mean girl. I’m sure tomorrow there will be an update, after all, tonight I will refresh my memory of Booger, National, Bigg Titties, Sister wife and all of their friends you have yet to hear about.

Elevator music

2009-08-07T14:05:00.001-07:00

Today I called a client and I was put on hold. Now today is not one of my high energy days, I’ve been yawning since I got here and the day is dragging. The hold music lulled me into kind of a semi trance, when the person finally came back on the line I looked at the phone and found I had been on hold for over eight minutes, it felt like a mini nap and I was grateful.

What would your last supper be?

2009-08-07T14:03:00.000-07:00

For lunch, Joyce brought meatloaf, it’s her comfort food. I can always tell when she is sick or overwhelmed, she makes meatloaf. As she was enjoying her lovely meatloaf she said, “ This is what I would have for my last supper.I love it.”

Meatloaf? Seriously? So we all started talking about what we would have for our last supper. Seafood, steak, ice cream, chocolate, the list kept getting longer.

Then I started wondering why we were planning our last meal, are we planning on going postal? Why else would we need a last meal? Do I need to be careful around these people?

So when we are all on death row I have a list of what everyone wants. Mine is going to take a while, I want a bite of everything!

Reliving My Youth

2009-08-05T14:53:00.000-07:00

I don’t usually consider myself a vain person, but after seeing a few concerts of performers from my teenage years I’ve decided that I am aging very well!

Remember the bands from your youth? The ones who’s albums you saved up for and then played so loud your mother threatened to throw them in the trash? I remember, and not only was the music good, the men in the bands were so hot!

My disillusionment started when Steve and I were still married and he won front row seats to see Bad Company. I was so excited, I had the biggest crush on Paul Rogers, he was the subject of many of my teenage day dreams, and I was going to see him up close and personal. Maybe it wasn’t too late to run away with the band, just like I dreamed when I was 17.

The whole day I was all a twitter, what to wear, what to wear? I could not wait to see the man of my dreams. Bad Company took the stage, after a very disappointing set by Billy Squire, I think I screamed louder than anyone. I was 17 again, listening to the songs I loved, standing next to my husband, staring up at Paul Rogers.

Then something horrible happened. Paul Rogers took off his shirt. I know that doesn’t sound horrible and when I was 17 there was nothing I wanted more than to see Paul Rogers partially clad. Now, twenty years later his man boobs were huge! There should be a law against men with huge breasts taking off their shirts. All my girlhood fantasies were shattered in that one moment. I couldn’t even look at the stage and was not the least disappointed when Steve suggested we leave before the crowd.

Fast forward to the latest concert, Chicago. Again, I was very excited, not so much because I had a crush on any of those men but because it’s always fun to relive the good old days. I went to the concert with Joyce and her daughters, in a venue that allows you to bring in coolers of food and drink.

We waited outside the gate for several hours, all the seats are lawn seats so you get there early, wait in line so you can run and put your blanket as close to the stage as possible. Also, in those hours spend waiting for the gates to open, we consumed large quantities of alcohol, how could it not be a good night?

Finally, the gates open and we are speed walking ( they frown on running now) to get as close to the stage as possible. We got to about 40 feet from the stage and staked out our spot, blankets, sleeping bags, low lawn chairs and coolers everywhere. We were ready. Time to eat, after all the alcohol we needed food. The buffet we brought was huge, chicken salad, pastrami, fruit, turkey wraps, shrimp, brownies, cabbage salad. We gorged ourselves in the sun waiting for the show to begin.

The opening act was really good. Just two guys from Park City, one who could really sing and one who could really play the guitar. They were good, we were already swaying to the music. When they finished we ran to the bathroom and to take a smoke break before reliving our youth in the dusk.

Suddenly, the crowd is on its feet, the music starts playing, Chicago is taking the stage! We are jumping and yelling, then we notice- they are old! How did that happen? We are certainly not that old. Not only are they old, apparently they have forgotten how to dress themselves. It was frightening.

The trombone player had on really tight jeans that were pulled up really high, that was scary enough, but it didn’t stop there. He had on a button down shirt, with the sleeves ripped off, tucked into his too high, too tight pants, but wait- there’s more--- the front of the shirt was untucked, AND TIED ABOVE HIS PANTS! Like Daisy Duke with a package- it was terrifying!

The saxophone player, had tight black jeans on with a rather large “business” area- which Joyce pointed out to me, sounding a little afraid. I told her it was a sock and to just look away.

We were traumatized for the first half hour or so. It didn’t help that they were playing new stuff which was not at all what we wanted. Finally they remembered why we were all there and played the stuff we know and love. The crowd was on it’s feet, hands in the air, swaying to the music. Joyce and I danced like lunatics, much to the embarrassment of her daughters, but we did it anyway.

Wonderful concert, wonderful friends, great food. Now if I could just get the image of the way they were dressed out of my head, it would be a perfect memory!

It didn't work!

2009-07-30T20:08:00.000-07:00

As you can tell from the posts below, blogging from your phone will only work if you blog backwards. I tried, read from the bottom up to understand.

2009-07-30T20:04:00.007-07:00

living dangerously!

2009-07-30T20:04:00.005-07:00

than a text? Will it be out of order? Will you have to read this backwards? Inquiring minds want to know. Also, there is no spell check on my phone. I'm

2009-07-30T20:04:00.003-07:00

follow. I am testing my ability to blog by phone. I know i can do it but since a text can only be 160 characters what will happen if the blog is longer

2009-07-30T20:04:00.001-07:00

This is a test of the emergency blogging system. This is only a test. Had this been a real blog emergency you would have been directed to another blog to

Have sisters, will travel

2009-07-30T15:38:00.000-07:00

Tahoe was beautiful, the weather was wonderful, the casino's were not overly greedy, the food was good, there was a bar at the pool. What more can anyone ask for?

Oh, and my sisters were there. These two women hold my heart in their hands, and now that we are adults, they are gentle with it. They make me laugh harder than anyone else, we have that secret language, just a look and we know what the other is thinking, we have so many inside jokes, everything makes us laugh.

Who else but your sister can peel your bathing suit off you, under your dress, poolside without anyone else seeing your girlie goods? Who else always packs a cooler of alcohol for the beach? Who else wouldn't get mad about the 500th short joke? My sisters. They are amazing and I love them.

Their ring tone on my phone is My sister, My friend by Reba. These lyrics describe what sisters mean to each other, even when they don't say it enough. I love you both, and I'm so glad you are my sisters.

It's late and I should go
But I can't hang up the phone
Until I tell you
What I don't tell you enough
Even though at times it seemed
We were more like enemies
I'd do it all again
My sister my friend

Pat Sajak, in the house!

2009-07-30T15:17:00.000-07:00

So, we went to Tahoe, the end. Pretty boring, eh? Well not our trip, no sirree bob. There was fun, there were games, and don't forget the excitement!

Anyone who has ever driven ten hours to the land of water and lost dreams knows car trips can be excrutiatingly painful. Not so for us. Why you might ask? Well we brought our very own Pat Sajak.

Jon is a very entertaining fellow, no one really asked him how he felt about traveling with three sisters, we just kinda roped him into it. But he did good, he did better than good- he entertained us the whole trip.

This was very different than the car trips we took together as children. Not once did anyone say, she's touching me, she's looking at me, and no one got shoved into the side of the car either.........ah, the good old days.

We played Name that Tune with Ipods, freaking hilarious. At times we had to sing the song all the way to the chorus before we got it, there was lots of laughing. Jon didn't stand a chance against us. Well, I should say against Terrie, she is the one note queen. Angie and are look like old ladies, squinting really hard, cause that helps us hear better, and Terrie already knows it. Damn her!

And then came Trivial Pursuit. If you haven't played that going 70 miles an hour, you should try it sometime. I found out there are some competitive people in my family, not me, but that other sister in the back..........and her boyfried!

I'm not competitve, I keep my mouth shut until I kick your butt and then I rub it in for the next three hundred miles! Just for the record, I suck at this game, I don't watch TV, paid no attention in school and struggle to form complete sentences, yet somehow, Angie and I beat Terrie and Jon three, count 'em, three times!

Woo hoo! Who knew random things like Adam West as Batman and what color Shrek is, live in my mind? No wonder I can't remember where I live, I'm too busy storing up useless trivia for a long car ride!

A trip down memory lane.......

2009-07-24T19:24:00.000-07:00

I’m feeling very nostalgic today. I think it may have something to do with the fact that Mo has my car and is out visiting friends and I’m sitting here thinking, “ Where has the time gone?” I’ve made myself laugh thinking about some things from the past so I thought I would share them.

The following is a list of the people I love and what comes to mind when I think of them.. Some good things, some bad things, but all a part of my life

My Momma
There are so many things I remember, not all of them lovely, as you know, but some of the best still make me smile. I remember you were the prettiest Mom in Yorktown, we were proud you were our Mom.

My brother John
I remember when we moved to Yorktown, it was raining and Danny had that damn truck that stalled all the time and he would have to get it rolling and pop the clutch to start it. You were in the back of the truck and me and Mom and the girls were in the car behind you. The truck stalled and Danny popped the clutch, you grabbed the side of the truck but it was wet from the rain and your hand slipped. You were hanging off the chain that served as a tailgate, I thought you were going to fall and die. That was the most scared I had been in my life, up to that point. I remember jumping out of Mom’s car while it was still moving and running behind the truck screaming, finally getting to you and lifting you off that chain. So thankful you were ok.
I remember when you dressed as a woman for Halloween and I was jealous because you looked better in that dress than I did!

My sister Terrie
I remember standing in Nan’s living room, singing into hairbrushes and pretending we were Loretta Lynn and Tammy Wynette.
I remember your Rick Springfield cardboard cut out scaring me to death when I was trying to sneak in!

My sister Angie
I remember being afraid flys would fly up your nose when you were an infant and suffocate you. What? I was seven, it could happen!
I remember your little yellow coat.

My brother Tony
I remember sitting in the back of Mom’s car, holding you all the way home from the hospital, back in the days your baby didn’t have to be in a car seat. You keep looking at me with just one eye, like Popeye
I remember when you hated mashed potatoes and Angie convinced you not to eat peas by telling you there were mashed potatoes inside.

My Daddy
I remember telling you that Mommy was mad because you were drinking and you just smiled and said “Hot damn” You were the best Daddy!

My cousin Tink
I remember when you lived with us and you were making those flowers, I can’t remember how did it but it was some kind of wire and you dipped them in something, I don’t know, but I thought you were amazing and wanted to be just like you.

My cousin Janet
I remember staying with you in the summer when we were teenagers and sneaking out when Aunt Joann thought we were asleep and then having to hide so we didn’t get caught by the cops breaking curfew. Small town life.
I remember painting our nails at Grandma’s in New York, listening to Cher. Gypsy’s Tramps and Thieves.

My Dudley family
I remember trips to Indian Acres and Rosie and Kenny singing around the campfire. “Where have all the flowers gone” still makes me cry. I used to sing that to Mo when she was a baby.
I remember Grandma always working, even when I visited her in the summer, she worked at the Instant Beer Machine. I remember the tshirt she got me in Hong Kong.
I remember Uncle Sam making me mad because he refused to stop calling me Missi the summer I decided I was too old for it.

There are so many things I remember. I remember that Nanny had the softest skin ever and that she loved me, even when I was unlovable. Pop Pop knew everything, what I would give to talk to him again. Grandma Dudley, telling me she wasn’t sure if she didn’t work anymore because she was retired or because she was retarded. I remember Grandma crying because I slept with my head covered up and my feet sticking out, just like my Dad.

This could get very long. There are so many people I love and so many things that I remember about them. I’m so very blessed to have them all in my life.

Good times

2009-07-24T15:04:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I'm written a post, life has been it's normal, crazy, delicious self. I had a third date with internet guy #1, let's just say I cannot date a man who cheats at golf, especially when he doesn't call it cheating.

Mo is home, we went to the Kenny Chesney concert last night. It was 104 degrees and the concert was outside at the stadium. Even though we both wore summer dresses we were reduced to puddles of sweat.

The music was awesome, the people watching was incredible, but the best part? Hanging with my baby. It's not often that my grown up, too cool for me, baby girl, hangs with her momma. Several times I reminded her why she doesn't hang with me, like when I couldn't figure out how to take a pic of us with my phone. You can tell how mentally challenged she thinks I am by the look on her face in the attached picture. She wasn't happy about me dancing either, tried to pretend she didn't know me, but during her favorite songs she stood up and sang and danced right along with me.

I'm more grateful for those moments than you know!

We leave for Tahoe this weekend so no more blogs for about a week but I promise to take notes about everything I see, especially the stuff that makes me laugh and fill you in when I get back.

I may be the thing that makes me laugh, I bought a new, itty, bitty bikini, yikes!~

2009-07-16T16:17:00.000-07:00

The people I work with are crazy. Crazy, fun and very inventive. Today we were working on updating some equipment lists that include mammogram machines. We were talking about customer responses to our inquiries. Joyce said one of her customers said they purchased the machine in Canada and paid next to nothing for it.

That started us talking about if the machines were properly calibrated, etc. Joyce said diagnostic imaging centers were not held to the same standards as hospitals when it comes to making sure everything is calibrated and maintained.

Here is the conversation and brainstorming session that followed.

Me- All of my mammograms but the first one were done at hospitals, the first one was done at a freestanding place.

Joyce- Freestanding? Like a kiosk at the mall?

Jared- That's what it made me think of too.

Me- No, freestanding, like at a clinic not a hospital.

Jared- I just had a business idea, let's purchase a machine and take it the mall. You can get your mammogram done while you shop, no appointment necessary.

Cathy- What would you call it? You know, a catchy name like Fetal Foto's.

Pam- How about Baby Shots?

Joyce- Baby shots? ( At this point we had to explain, babies drink from them, like a shot of milk)

A few more names were tossed around before Jared came up with the winner.

Jared- Healthy Hooters

Joyce- That's it Jared, you can have Tshirts made that say " I got my mammogram at Healthy Hooters" " Boobs Certified by Healthy Hooters"

Cathy- You can't use the owl eyes for hooters, you'll get in trouble.

Me- No, we'll use the pink breast cancer awareness ribbons for the O's

Jared- We'll put the machine by the kiddies rides

Me- Ok, boob machine, kiddie rides and massage chairs for Daddy

Jared- Then the whole family goes for ice cream, sounds like a win for everyone.

They pay me to do this. Can you believe it?

Be afraid, be very afraid

2009-07-15T17:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I came home from work and I think aliens abducted my child and replaced her with a smiling, happy clone!

Her room was clean- something she has probably only done five times in her life, and those other times, I was standing over her with a whip refusing to let her out until it was clean, this time, she did it without me asking.

Laundry, she actually did some laundry! A load of jeans, granted she didn’t have any clean ones but in the past she would have just worn dirty jeans or pj pants. Then after she got the jeans out she started another load and asked me if I could put it in the dryer since she was staying the night at her friends.

Who is she and what has she done with my daughter? Hmmm, is this the beginning of the whole growing up, maturing thing?

I could get used to this!

Christmas in July

2009-07-15T17:44:00.000-07:00

Is anyone else thinking about Christmas already? I had a confession, I just took the Christmas lights off the house on Saturday and now I’m thinking about Christmas. Last year was our first Christmas in the house and I have to say, it may well be the only year there are lights on the house.

I’m afraid of heights. I’m scared putting up the lights and then I have a hard time talking myself into taking them down. So this year I think just a nice wreath on the door and one of those electric candle thingy’s in each window. Maybe some garland around the garage door, but no more lights on the roof.

I love Christmas, Mo thinks I get carried away, last year we had three trees. They were all very beautiful.

Today I made my list, list of people to buy for, ideas of what to buy, things I would like to make if I just had 24 more hours in every day. And Mo’s list.

This year I will get Christmas cards out. I will bake for two months. I will not get overwhelmed. I will be finished with everyone’s gift, except Mo’s by Thanksgiving. I will enjoy the season. I will do Sub for Santa. I will take Mo and her sister to see Santa. I will make a huge dinner and be surrounded by those I love. I will be grateful.

Internet date number two

2009-07-14T15:57:00.001-07:00

Second date with S. Ok, his name is Steve and his ex wife’s name is Carol, what are the chances?

For our second date we went out to dinner with his nephew and his wife and their baby. Very cute baby, huge blue eyes, and just as happy as he could be. Dinner was great, it was a restaurant I hadn’t been to, the food was really good. I need to go back there and take Mo, she would like it.

After dinner we went back to his nephew’s house and had daiquiri’s. We had fun talking and getting to know each other, it was kind of nice that there was another couple, no need to worry about a dead spot in the conversation.

Sunday morning he brought me flowers. Ugh. I hate when this happens. He is a very nice man but I don’t think we are from the same world, or move in the same circles.

Why do I feel like I have to find something wrong with him? It’s so hard to explain when I tell people, he’s just not right for me, then they ask why they want details. I can’t explain it so it would almost be easier to say he is a horrible person. He’s not, he’s very sweet, attentive, all the things I’m looking for.

BUT, I don’t want the life he can offer. I know that sounds very, very shallow, but it’s the truth. I’ve worked very hard to not struggle every day. It scares me when a man my age is still struggling, financially, like we did when we were younger. I don’t want to go backwards, it’s time to think about the rest of my life, and I don’t want that to include mountains of debt and never being able to travel or take vacations because we are broke.

Now I have to find a kind way to tell him, this is always the hardest part. I hate to hurt anyone and I drive myself crazy thinking about it. It was two dates, not a lifetime, I need to get over it, let him down nicely, and move on.

Slow down little girl

2009-07-14T15:56:00.001-07:00

Little girls grow up so fast. Today Mo is taking her driving test. She is nervous, I know she will be fine, she’s a good driver.

I can’t believe we are here already. I remember not so very long ago when she wouldn’t let me let go of the seat of her bike, now she is chomping at the bit for me to let go of her, and let her drive.

Don’t fly too far too fast little girl, it will take time for me to adjust, be patient with me, you are my heart.

Butt in the air- but I love you!

2009-07-11T12:33:00.000-07:00

I’m not good under pressure, during crisis, in times of trouble. When people need me, really need me, I joke, I poke fun, I pretend it’s all good, nothing bad is really going to happen. Mary freaking Sunshine, as one of my sisters so sweetly called me.

It’s a defense mechanism. If I can laugh, and make someone else laugh, especially someone who is hurting or scared, then it will really be ok. After all, we couldn’t laugh if it wasn’t, right?

All my life I’ve hidden from what is wrong. If you stick your head in the sand, the bad stuff will sail right over you and never even notice you there with your butt in the air.

This only works when the bad stuff that is going to happen applies to someone else, when it applies to me, I stress, obsess, make myself sick. I try to think of the absolute worse thing that could happen, I actually start planning for that possibility so that when the doctor, or who ever says, oh wait, this is dyfocus of the blowhole, not cancer, then I’m hugely relieved, I even feel a little silly for getting everyone so worked up.

That’s what happened with my hysterectomy. They said the “C” word and I shut down. I knew I was gonna die, no need to have surgery, I’m gonna die anyway. Oh well, at least I’ll die with all my parts. Tree begged me to have the surgery, I stubbornly refused, until she wouldn’t stop crying and then I agreed. Still I made plans to die, I knew I was gonna die. I spoke with an attorney about the care and keeping of Mo after I was gone, where would she live, who would take care of her, who would get my insurance money, all of that, I had in place, because I was going to die.

Obviously, I didn’t die, and after the surgery I felt silly for being so melodramatic.

But when other people in my life are sick, I refuse to even say the words. When they thought Tree had thyroid cancer, our kids were five. She called crying, she didn’t want to die, she wanted to see Little Boy Ugly grow up, she didn’t want to lose her hair- and there it was, my in. I absolutely was not going to talk about dying, but I would talk about drawing her eyebrows on and painting daisies on her head. Hair didn’t matter, she was gonna live forever.

Then someone I love was diagnosed with MS. She called, crying, telling me all the things that could happen. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it, she was gonna live forever. So I made her laugh.

“What exactly did the doctor say?”

“He said the results are back and I have MS.”

“He said MS? Not multiple sclerosis?”

“That’s what MS means.” She is trying to be patient with her thick headed friend.

“Well, maybe this time it means, masturbates selfishly, or manually stimulated, or …..”

After a couple seconds of stunned silence, she laughed, through the tears we both laughed. And it helped us get things in perspective.

Now someone else I love is sick. Lupus. Fortunately it is the mild skin type, it’s still a chronic disease and a life long diagnosis. So I do what I can. Buy lots of sunscreen, argue with her stubborn ass about staying out of the sun and tanning beds. And make lots of jokes, it’s what I do.

It’s out of love, although that can be hard to see, I love so strongly I can’t imagine life without these people so I stick my head in the sand and love them the best I can, by making fun of them.

Internet Date Number One

2009-07-10T21:27:00.000-07:00

Went golfing last night with S. It was a blast. Since we were not a foursome we were paired with another couple. They were in their 30’s have three young children at home so were just enjoying some kid free time together. The four of us had a blast.

We laughed easily and often. I think the most important thing to look for in a partner is the ability to laugh together. We all have a list of physical attributes that are so important, he must be over 6 feet tall, she must have long hair, he must have hair, she must have big boob, and on an on. Those things will all disappear one day, he will shrink, she will cut her hair, his may fall out, and those boobs, we all know what direction they are headed!

But if you can make each other laugh… that will last. I am trying to give everyone a chance this time around, not make snap judgments. Last night I was pleasantly surprised. S was cuter than his pictures, but more importantly he was kind, attentive and he made me laugh. He also asked me out again, I’m going to go, who knows where things may lead, even if it’s not anywhere I’m making a new friend and having fun.

My friend Joyce always says, “Who would you love if you were blind?” Although neither one of us lives by that when we are looking for people to date, it’s a nice thought. If you were blind you would love the person who speaks to your heart, not your eyes. I’m trying to remember that, and listen to what someone says to my heart.

Why is it so easy to fall in love with the handsome bad boy who is always doing you wrong? We can forgive them almost anything, because they are just so damn sexy, but let a nice guy do anything the slightest bit wrong and he hits the street so fast his head is spinning. And even when you look at what they do wrong, it’s a no brainer, so why do we do it?

Nice guy- 15 minutes late, but he called, we are still mad that he is inconsiderate of our time

Bad boy- 2 hours late because he was drinking with the boys and lost track of time, we are only mad for a minute, he is just too damn cute when he is making excuses!

Nice guy-believes us when we say we don’t want to go anywhere special for our birthday- and we are pissed because he should know us better than that.

Bad boy- it was your birthday? When, not until next month right? ( He’s just so damn cute)

There are many, many examples, I’m tried to remember those when the nice guy I went out with asked me out a second time.

Internet Dating

2009-07-09T14:54:00.000-07:00

Internet dating is the bane of my existence. Ugh. I have decided that meeting Mr. Right is just a numbers game. Like anything else the more you date the better your odds are for meeting the person you can’t live without. Or a stalker, take your pick.

I am on several dating websites again. I hate them, hate everything about them. The pictures lie, the profiles lie, the emails you exchange lie, then you meet, and the lies are worthless.

Why can’t people just tell the truth? Don’t post a picture of you twenty years ago. Do you really think that when you meet someone they are not going to notice that you are twenty pounds heavier and bald? Maybe I like big bald guys, you never know if you don’t put a real picture up there. The same goes with your height, don’t say you are 6ft tall, and then I tower over you in two inch heels, I’m only 5’4”. Trust me, I notice things like this.

Since this is a numbers game, I’ve decided to go out with everyone who asks. This can be a little scary, I may wind up spending two hours of my life with a troll but what the hell. Nothing ventured nothing gained. Besides, in the past, those few I picked as worthy of spending my valuable time with did not turn out all that well. When it comes to choosing good men, I have no clue, so this time I’m not ruling anyone out.

So far, I’ve met two men that I’ve talked to on the phone and had plans to meet in person. The first guy, wasn’t crazy about his profile or his pictures, I’m not a tattoo fan, but I remembered that I was going to go out with everyone. Anyway, a couple sweet emails, a few nice phone conversations and we decide to meet for dinner, at a big mall downtown, so he can take the train, since his truck is a work truck and has lots of expensive tools on it. Ok, I love the train too, I didn’t see a problem.

Until he text me over and over, giving me the spiel about that tools and truck, ok, maybe he doesn’t have a truck, maybe he doesn’t even have a license, but it’s just dinner right?

So we work out the details. When, where, and he is going to text me with the time since his job is not 9-5, I said that was fine. Two hours later I get a text asking why I didn’t answer his last text about when and where. My response- What? So again he tells me about the truck, yadda, yadda, yadda. I tell him we’ve had this conversation before.

His response “ so I’m brain dead, I can’t even argue with that, but for shits and giggles can you tell me what we decided?

Seriously? We are talking a two hour time lapse. RUN!!!!!!!

Maybe I won’t date EVERYONE who asks me. This guy either is dating every woman under the sun and can’t keep us straight or he has a drug problem and can’t keep anything straight. Not my cup of tea..

Tonight I have a golf date. He seems very nice. Physically, not my usual type, but I’m dating everyone, remember. He can carry on a conversation, remember my name, seems to be fairly active and has not exhibited any stalker qualities. This one may be a keeper ladies! At the very least, I will spend two hours golfing and laughing, whether he laughs or not, because I am determined to enjoy these dates, if only to have lots of details to share with my blogging friends!

My garden rocks!

2009-07-09T14:45:00.000-07:00

We are already eating out of the garden.

Tomatoes, cucumbers, peas!! Oh my!

I don't have a green thumb just bought lots and lots of steer manure.

Who knew cattle are our gardening friends!

I love my garden

2009-07-04T09:12:00.000-07:00

This morning as I'm waiting patiently for it to be time to go to my sister's and eat Maryland crabs, I was wandering around my yard, thinking about how truly blessed I am.

I love my family, as crazy as they are and as crazy as we make each other, I love them, they are the roses in my garden. I tend them with care, hope they will bloom and be happy where they are planted.

My daughter, she is the light of my life, the cute little faces on pansies make me think of when she was little and we watched some animated movie, I think it might have been a Troll in Central Park, where the flowers talked.

My friend Tree, she is the African Daisy in my garden, beautiful and different.

The rest of my friends are the daisies. They are solid and dependable, and I love them all.

When I was growing up my grandparents were such an important part of my life. I remember a little poem that my grandmother used to tell us.

I used to love my garden
But now my love is dead
For I found a bachelor’s button
In black-eyed Susan’s bed.

This is for you Nan and Pop, I love you and still miss you every day.

Bad boys, bad boys............

2009-07-02T12:51:00.001-07:00

Relationships are hard. Nothing else to say, they are just hard. Attraction is a tricky thing. The older I get, the pickier I get. I know what I like and what I don’t, what I want in my life and what I don’t.

Since I’ve been divorced I’ve gone on plenty of dates. Some good, some not so good. And I’ve had a few “relationships” but nothing lasting. I have a thing for bad boys, I know that, and I’m trying to change it but can’t seem to get past the boredom factor with the nice guys.

Why do nice guys seem so lacking in personality? Is it because they are not always coming up with a story to try to scam you? I’ve met some really great guys, guys who would have made great husbands, but they are not the ones that intrigue me and I never date them for long.

The guys I date for longer than a few weeks are the ones who are addicted to something, have huge amounts of debt, that they are avoiding, don’t have or can’t hold a job, are not ready to commit, the list of bad traits goes on and on.

Realistically, I know that all of those things will make my life a living hell if I continue seeing these men. So why do I do it? Not only do I continue seeing them, sometimes I’m the one chasing them. Although, usually, they are the ones doing the chasing because as soon as I decide I don’t want their crap in my life, they decide they can’t live without me.

Isn’t it funny how as soon as you walk away from a relationship that is not meeting your needs, the chasing starts? I’ve known M for three and a half years, he is the biggest commitmentphobe in the world. It never fails, as soon as I tell him I don’t want to see him anymore he starts his campaign to get me back. Texting a hundred times a day, calling three or four times a day, wanting to see me every day, telling me when we are going to get engaged, when we are going to get married, etc. He even does this when he has another girlfriend! I have tried to be just his friend, we do have a good time together, hanging out with our mutual friends, bbqing, going to the hot tub, stuff like that, we are best friends in that we can talk about anything, and I love his children.

. He even gives me all the dirt on the current woman he’s dating, why he can’t continue to see her, she drinks too much, she’s a party girl, her house is filthy, her kids are out of control, they don’t have chemistry, she is looking for a sugar daddy, whatever this week’s excuse is so he doesn’t have to commit. All the while telling me he loves me more than he’s ever loved anyone, we have something special together, yadda, yadda, yaddda.

But as soon as I let my guard down and think, this time will be different, he is back to his old tricks. Not calling when he says he will, being late when we have plans, talking about how he is not ready for a serious relationship. Whatever!

I’m trying to let the bad boys go. I know love is out there, I just have to be open to it, and not jump on the bad boy train anymore. Nice men are the ones that are there for you, not bad boys. Nice guys are willing to put their heart in a relationship, I just have to be ready to receive that.

So, my new goal is to stop seeing someone as soon as I recognize their bad boy traits and to give the nice guys a chance. You never know what will happen once you get past the initial awkwardness and a nice guy is finally able to open up. I’m hoping to find out.

2009-07-01T05:27:00.001-07:00

A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.

Cubicle Life

2009-06-30T16:38:00.000-07:00

Good morning world. It’s a beautiful day and I’m sitting in a 5x5 cubicle. What’s wrong with this picture? Are we really meant to spend our lives indoors staring at cubicle walls?

I used to love my job, I still like it, and I’m good at it, I just want out of this cubicle. I’ve tried to make it homey and welcoming, there are pictures of all the kids in my life, pictures of Joyce and I doing silly things, a white board that I write the quote of the day on, music, my grow a boyfriend sponge, little sayings that I’ve collected, and then there is the wallpaper that is made up of company information that I need to have readily available. All I can say is, yuck!!

I talk on the phone to customers, send tons of emails, but there is no interaction. Of course I interact with my co workers, not as much as you might think, but we do talk, gossip around the water cooler. It’s not enough.

I want to meet new people, see new things. I want a job that challenges me everyday to be the best I can be, not one that stifles my creativity. I feel like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at this. I don’t even like saying that, I never considered myself a sales person, just thinking about salesmen conjures up all kinds of bad images. I don’t want to be a slick, smooth talker who can worm her way in to make the sale. I want to develop rapport with people, get to know them, befriend them.

I think it’s time for a change. In all areas of my life I’m feeling a shift. My stint as a full time parent is drawing to a close, everyday Mo get’s more and more independent and less and less my little girl. She is in a hurry to grow up and be her own person, I’m trying to let go, but in order to let go, I need something else to put my energy into.

My personal life is a joke, apparently there is a magnet imbedded in my forehead that attracts every alcoholic, substance abusing, unemployed, cheating, unreliable, commitmentphobe in Utah! Time for a change.

And then there is my job. I like to work, I enjoy people, I just don’t enjoy cubicle life. Ideas are swirling around in my head, things I can do to support us without coming to this cubicle every day. Wish me luck!

Beer and the Arts Festival

2009-06-29T16:36:00.000-07:00

Saturday Angie, Mo and I rode Trax downtown to volunteer at the Arts Festival. Mo volunteered on Friday, she did face painting in the toddler area and had a blast, she loves little kids.

So Saturday after doing all the weekend chores we headed downtown, just us three girls. I love to watch the people on the train, they usually provide very good entertainment on the way there- like the guy who got on the train with his bike, wearing cowboy boots, flirting with this little blonde, telling her he was some big time sound guy, pretty funny.

Anyway, we get to the festival Mo goes with the soda pop group and Angie and I head for the adult beverage booth, my latest and greatest idea to meet a guy. I've been thinking if I want to meet a man, I have to go where men are, so beer = men, and I talked my sister into tagging along!

We were in a booth with, to start, five other people, which was great, Angie and I got to be on the front line, serving the beer. Two guys who were staffers where taking orders and money and three people where pouring from the taps behind us, lining up beers on the table and we were filling the orders as fast as they came in, we had a rythym going.

Then Brunhilda, or whateve the hell her name was, came to our booth to help. Brunhilda was about 50 and Russian with a long braid that kept falling in the beer. And wouldn't you know it, ole Brunie was not gonna pour, so she was on the front line with me and Angie went back to pour.

That's when the chair came out. Seems Brunhilda's idea of helping was sitting in a chair and wiping up the beer I spilled filling orders. This put her constantly in my way, everytime I turned around she was leaning over from her chair trying to organize the beer on the table I was grabbing beer off of. Ok, she's older, maybe she needs to sit.

I was starving so I ran and quickly got fries for me and Angie while a security guard covered for me. I put them on the table by the beer so Ang and I could both get to them. Well, little Miss Brunhilda must have been very hungry because the bitch was eating my fries!! I didn't notice at first because I was really busy but when things slowed down she said to me in a very nasty Russian accent " Are these fries for everyone, or just you Americans?"

What the hell? I must have looked at her funny because she said " She ( meaning Angie) is eating them, but she said not me."

Angie said " I told you, you should ask her if you can have some, not just eat them"

Brunhilda " Well you are eating them."

Angie, " I'm her sister!"

Brunhilda " You Americans!"

What the hell is up with that? So I just said, whatever, not a big deal , let it go. Well apparently she doesn't know the meaning of let it go and would not shut up about those fries all night!

And sadly since we sold $12,000 worth of beer in four hours, which translates to 600 beers an hour, I didn't even have a second to flirt! So much for new ways to meet men.

Then on the train home, my shy, awkward little Mo, walked down the car we were in and sat across from this boy and started talking to him! She was flirting a mile a minute, I didn't know she had it in her. She gave him her number. I wasn't sure whether to be proud ( You go girl!!) or be disturbed ( My baby is talking to strangers on the train)

A fun time was had by all and I will definately do it again next year, but I'm going to have to find a slower booth to do my flirting in!

Daddy's and Daughters

2009-06-21T08:20:00.000-07:00

Happy Father's day to all the wonderful fathers I know. This post is dedicated to my ex husband. Although my profile says I am a single mother of one, and on paper that's definately true, thanks to Steve, I am not a single parent.

Many of the blogs I read have very negative things to say about ex husbands and fathers in general. I want to tell the other side of the story. We all have negative things to say about our ex husbands ( and they about us), that's why we are divorced. However just because you are not the world's greatest spouse doesn't make you a bad parent.

Steve and I had a very hard time when we first divorced. There was a lot of animosity and hard feelings, fortunately we were able to sheild Mo from most of that. As time has passed we have formed a very friendly relationship, we even get along with the other people in each other's lives. ( Except for that one woman, I won't name names, he knows who she is)

But this is about father's, not ex spouses. Lots of fathers and mothers are deadbeats, I'm not denying that, but tons aren't. Steve pays child support, pays for her braces, school fees, whatever else Mo needs. It's never an argument, she is his child and he loves her.

Steve is there when Mo needs him. When she had surgery on her mouth he took the day off work to come and hold her hand while they put her under and to sit with me while we waited.

When it was over he was the one who carried her to the car and up three flights of stairs because the anesthesia hadn't worn off enough for her to walk. He stayed with us when I had to give her pain medication, just to make sure she didn't have an allergic reaction.

When Mo is being a typical teenage and I'm at my wits end, it's her Daddy I call. We are in this together, we make decisions for her, together, we have difficult conversations with her, together. We are united as her parents and as much as she whines about being from a broken home, I think her foundation is much stronger than lots of children of divorce.

Daddy is the one Mo calls and uses her baby voice, not me. Daddy is the one she wants when she is scared, not me. Daddy is the one she talks to when I'm being unreasonable. Mo is a Daddy's girl and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Now in addition to our beautiful baby girl, Steve has another daughter, and he is just as atttentive to her as he is to Mo. Initially Mo was not happy about sharing her Daddy, she would much rather I have fifteen kids than to have to share her Daddy with one sibling. Mo was afraid, after all, she was Daddy's special girl. She was so afraid that this new little intruder was going to take her place in Daddy's world. Steve told her no matter how many kids he has that she would always be special, and then, he showed her it was the truth. Mo is able to love her sister with all her heart, and share her Daddy, because he showed her that some things never change.

Mo was born on Father's Day and I always joked and said Steve was never getting anything else for Father's Day, after all, how do you top that? The truth is that the three of us got the greatest gift that day. Steve and I got Mo, and Mo got the best Daddy any little girl could want.

Thank you Steve for giving our little girl the foundation and love she needs to grow into a strong, intelligent woman who knows she doesnt' have to settle. After all, Daddy loves her best.

My baby

2009-06-20T10:27:00.001-07:00

How did this happen? That little tiny baby I wished for forever, is now a young woman. It doesnt' seem like that long ago the doctor's told me I would never have a biological child, and yet, here she is, beautiful and grown.

I spent yesterday thinking about 16 years ago today, when Mo was still safely growing in my tummy and I was able to protect her from the big, bad world.

Then, for a while, I was still able to protect her. I slayed all the dragons in the neighborhood to keep my girl safe and happy. No one was allowed to rain on her parade.

Now, I can't protect her. She goes out into the world every day, without me. She meets people who are rude, inconsiderate, people who are just plain mean. And sometimes, she protects me. Like flying, I hate to fly so when we fly I have a death grip on my baby girls hand and she has to patiently explain, over and over, yes, the plane is supposed to make that noise Mom, no we are not gonna crash, yes the wing thingies do that, it's normal.

I think as parents we spend so much time wondering how our babies can possibly survive in the world without us running interference for them, I'm starting to wonder how I'll survive when she leaves the nest.

Today and everyday, Mo is the greatest gift I've ever recieved and all any parent could ever ask for in a daugther.

Enjoy the day my beautiful baby, and the specialness that is you. ( No I didn't mean short bus special Mo!) Thanks for letting me be your Mommy. I love you

Some gave all

2009-06-14T07:57:00.000-07:00

I've been sad about something for a little while so I decided to blog about it to get it out of my head. If you are looking for something funny, you are in the wrong place today.

My father was killed in Vietnam when I was three. Not earth shattering news since that was so long ago, but I always had a sense of pride because my Daddy died for all of us. Living on the east coast it was easy to see and feel patriotism. All the battlefields and monuments are there, school field trips were to Gettysburg, Philadelphia and Washington DC. I knew our history and felt personally related through the sacrifice my father made.

My whole life I have been angry about what was taken from my father, but lately I've come to learn, first hand, that the ones who made it back weren't any luckier, they just had to wait longer for their ultimate sacrifice, and it would be much slower and more painful.

Recently we went to New Mexico for my nephew's graduation. My ex husbands family lives there and as he and I have a good relationship now, I went to visit them.

Steve's brother is confined to a wheelchair, this has been a very recent development. Wayne is the oldest of the brothers and always very active, a leader, he makes things happen. Together he and his wife put together and hosted the yearly family reunion, they even built stages and serving areas. The whole family is very musical so the reunion centered around music with the brothers harmonizing together for most of it. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed it. Wayne never sat still, he always had another project planned to make next years reunion even better.

Wayne and Arlene found each other late in life, after failed marriages for both of them, and they have the kind of love the rest of us wish we could find. Now she is losing him.

Wayne has ALS, better known as Lou Gehrig's disease, as a direct result of exposure to agent orange in Vietnam. ALS affects the nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord which leads to loss of muscle as it wastes away and voluntary movements are affected eventually leading to paralysis. There is no cure and the disease progresses differently from patient to patient.

This man, who to me always seemed a little larger than life, sits in a wheelchair and speaks barely above a whisper. ASL doesn't affect the brain, so the man who traveled the world, built things, took care of his family, ran companies, is still there, looking out through the same eyes, but with a body that won't respond to his commands any more. Eventually he may not even be able to speak.

When we were in New Mexico, Steve and David were at Wayne's when I was there and they did what they always do- Steve played the guitar and he and David sang. Wayne watched from his wheelchair, no longer able to sing with his brothers, all he can do is watch.

I understand that we need to protect our freedom, for us, for our children and for all the generations to come, but is this the price? Here, in our own country, there are so many things wrong, we are killing each other for the stupidest reasons, we are killing ourselves with drug and alcohol abuse, the elderly are not taken care of, children are not protected, yet we continue to fight everyone else's battles.

In the past, every time we sent our boys to fight in another country, all I could think was- here we go, another generation of fatherless children. The reality is much harsher. Those who don't die on foreign soil come home to die a much slower death. We don't honor our veterans, we give lip service to it, but if you've ever been to a veteran's hospital or a homeless shelter, you know it's not true.

I'm not sure what my point is with this post, I just needed to get this out of my head. Thank you Daddy, and all the men who have died for us. Thank you Wayne and all the men who continue to die, because we just don't know any better.

Wine party tonight!

2009-06-13T22:03:00.000-07:00

Just a short little post, have I shared how much I love wine? Let's just say if it wasn't for the job and the house, I would be a bonafide wino. Wandering the streets with my shopping cart and about a dozen cats following me, drinking from a paper bag.

Jon and Angie belong to this wine club, and I joined. My first offical wine party was tonight. It was fun, lots of people to meet, lots of good wine to sample and lots of yummy food to eat. And, there was actually someone there I met in Marty's hot tub and told about the wine club and she joined. so that was cool. and she brought the most amazing dip thingy that Angie and I could not stop eating.

The best part though? My sister was there. No matter where we are, we can enjoy ourselves and make each other laugh. We were in the kitchen at one point, quoting our favorite movie, laughing our asses off. Luckily, no wine spurted out of either of our noses.

I love you baby sister, even if you did get fired on your day off!

Oh, and when I got home, Mo was locked in the bathroom again. For a kid who's almost sixteen and thinks she's so grown up, she sure is a scaredy cat and still needs her momma. I love that.

It's all a numbers game

2009-06-10T18:44:00.000-07:00

Dating, how much fun is that? Those of you who know me, know that I have been married three times, that's right, three, wanna make something of it? Apparently I'm really good at getting married, not so good at staying married.

I have all the typical excuses, it wasn't me, it was them, I made bad choices, they pretended to be something they weren't, yada, yada, yada. Oh hell with it, it was me. I wanted something more. I know what I want, I just don't know how to get it. How to stop thinking I can turn every frog into Prince Charming.

Dating is a numbers game and I was never very good at math. In order to meet your Mister Right you gotta kiss a lot of frogs. Ok, I'm puckered up, where are the frogs? You have to put yourself out there, go new places, try new things, meet new people. It sounds like a travel brochure.

I put myself out there. I think I've been a member of every online dating site there is, at least once, some multiple times. It's all fun and games until it comes to actually meeting people. I'm good with emailing, texting,talking on the phone, but as soon as he says " Let's meet for coffee" I'm looking for a way out.

I hate first dates. I'm goofy, I laugh when people trip and hurt themselves, I say inappropriate things, sometimes I laugh until I snort whatever beverage I'm drinking out of my nose. Not the best first impression. I try to rein that in and what happens?

The last man I dated thought I was very reserved. Me, reserved? We dated for two months and when he said that I wasn't even sure he had ever met me. I streak on New years eve, every year, I've been known to tell dirty jokes- to my gynecolgist during an exam, I taught my neice all the foul language she knows. Reserved, really?

I gotta stop that. I'm not reserved, do I really care what they think? If they won't like me I should find out up front, not two years down the road when I let my guard down.

I went on a date with the brother of a friend, I liked him, he told her he didn't think I was into him. Where is the middle ground? Maybe I'm reserved on the first few dates because I've dated so many weirdos who didn't respect my personal space.

Like Mr Winky. He is famous in my circle of friends, the only man I ever dated who, about two hours into our first date, was masturbating on the couch when I returned from the bathroom. We hadn't even kissed yet, not sure what made him think that was the next logical step.

I got him back though. I grabbed my purse and headed for the door, laughing my ass off. He jumped off the couch and came after me. At the door we were greeted by his dog chewing on my tampon applicator, little present for him to clean up after making me need therapy before I could date again.

So, maybe I am reserved, maybe there is a reason for it. But maybe it's time to say the hell with it. Just be me, whoever that is, and see what happens.

A father's love

2009-06-08T18:05:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how much Daddy's love their little girls, and the lengths they are willing to go for them. Not that they dont' love their sons but there is something special about Daddy's little girl. My friend Jared is the proud papa of three children, two girls and a boy. The latest girl is a wee little thing less than two weeks old.

His oldest daughter is seven, and the sweetest, tiniest little girl with the biggest smile. You can tell her Daddy thinks the sun and moon rise and set in her and she feels the same way about him.

Any seven year old who's parent's listen to country music knows who Taylor Swift is, especially if her name also happens to be Taylor. If you are not a country music fan, Taylor Swift is a blonde cutie, about 19, who got her start several years ago. Mo saw her about three years ago when you could get tickets to her concerts for ten bucks a piece. That is not the case now.

So, Miss Taylor Swift came to town. The concert soldout within about five minutes, thanks to scalpers, I know, I tried to get tickets for Mo.

My friends little girl wants to see Taylor Swift, really, really, really bad! Jared is heartbroken because he can't give his little girl what she wants. But wait!

A local radio station featured a fearles fathers for Taylor tickets. All these big, brawny men had to do was dress in drag, go to the radio station and sing a Taylor song. Piece of cake.

We had a field day dressing our friend up, doing his makeup, styling his wig, teaching him how to bop his hip like a girl while playing the guitar instead of tapping his foot like a guy. We even taught him how to walk and that cute little foot kick thing she does when she sings.

When he was ready we all loaded up our cars and created a caravan to the radio station for a team activity. We were going to the radio station to support our friend, well, all the women anyway, the guys wanted nothing to do with it. Although a few did ask him what he was doing later.

Once at the radio station I could not believe my eyes, there were twenty proud papa's, their daughters and assorted friends ready to cheer these men in drag on.

It was the funniest thing I've ever seen. One man was even wearing daisy dukes and a belly shirt, and just let me say, he hasn't spent much time at the gym in his life! But, he sang his heart out to a song he didn't know, just for his little girl.

Have you ever heard grown man try to sing a song that a young girl sings?Lots of cracking voices and straining for the high notes. Both the funniest and the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

The funniest part was all these little girls, staring at their drag queen daddy's, singing their hearts out. The looks on their faces, priceless, they weren't sure exactly how they felt, pride, embarrassment, or maybe they were just storing up information for future therapy sessions.

My friends two year old son was dumbstruck as only a two year old can be. He kept staring at his Daddy, touching his long blonde hair, trying to figure out what was going on.

Alas, Jared didn't win, but we all think he is the best dad in the world. And thanks to his wife's phototgraphy skills, this day will live on in the family's memory.

Girls night out

2009-06-03T17:39:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to a friends house for appetizers and wine. Just a girl party, her husband was out of town, her son was with his father, so it was just us girls. Only four of us were able to make it, everyone else had kid activities, prior commitments, etc.

We had such a good time. I love meeting new people, sometimes they give you a whole new perspective on yourself. One of the ladies that was there was very interesting. She has traveled all over the world, was in the Peace Corp and is married to a man almost twenty years her junior. She is beautiful, intelligent and funny as hell. She also pulls absolutely no punches, if you don’t want to hear the truth, don’t’ talk to her, she is going to say what she thinks, regardless.

We were talking about men, as we women are prone to do when we are together, two of the four were married, two of us are single. So we started talking about dating and the lack of suitable men, which of course led to all the reasons we are not really throwing ourselves out there and dating like we should be, if we truly want a relationship. As we listed the things about ourselves that we wanted to change so someone would love us, because obviously we feel unlovable as we are, this wonderful new friend started making us take a look at ourselves.

She said “I recently came across a picture of myself when I was much younger, and I thought- I was beautiful. Of course I wasn’t beautiful, none of us are ever perfect enough to feel beautiful, but looking at that young girl, she was absolutely gorgeous and she had no idea. I remember thinking at that age, all the things that weren’t perfect about me. I realized that we are never going to be more beautiful than we are right at this minute, and if we don’t live like we are beautiful and deserving of wonderful things, we are going to wake at 80 and say, why didn’t I see how beautiful I was?

So, that is my new perspective, I am beautiful, and I am not going to wait for someday, my someday is now

Computer Dependent

2009-06-03T17:35:00.000-07:00

I confess, I’m addicted to my computer. I don’t know how I lived without it. Right now my computer is down and I cannot believe all the ways that my life is connected to that computer and now, I’m at a loss.

All of my writing is on that computer, every word. I can’t access it, I can’t add to it, I can’t edit it, I can’t even look at it and bask in the words I’ve written and the worlds I’ve created. It might as well not exist. Shit.

Last night I went to a friend’s house that I had never been to before, she sent the address and a google map, to my email, which I can’t access. I had written the address in my day planner but without being able to map the directions, I was lost. Thank God for cell phones.

It’s the last week of the school year, I can check my daughters grades and missing assignments online, so she can take care of them before school is finished. Oh wait, I can’t access the internet.

Paying bills, forget about it. I do everything electronically. I don’t even get paper bills in the mail anymore, they come to my email ( which, again, I can’t access) and then I log into my bank account (denied) and pay them. Do you think the mortgage company will forgive a late payment because I couldn’t access my bank account?
Even my library account, how lazy have I become? I don’t go to the library like a normal person and wander around until I find some books that look promising, no, not me. What I do instead is when I hear about a book I want to read I log onto my library account find the book and put it on hold then the library’s little automated lady calls my cell phone and let’s me know the book is ready for me. I am actually reading the Twilight series because it’s the only thing in the house I haven’t read.

Not to mention my favorite blogs. Can’t read them, can’t see them, I get updates on my phone from my blog friends through Twitter, but it’s only 140 characters. Not very informative.

My blogs, can’t touch them. I write my blogs at work and email them to myself to copy and paste into my blog from home because this blog site is blocked from work. Can’t copy and paste, can’t even read the emails.

I have a blog that I write for *******, something that may actually pay me, guess what? Can’t log in, can’t access, can’t blog.

I may strangle myself with a USB cord if this isn’t rectified soon!

Internet dating and golf

2009-06-02T15:47:00.000-07:00

I don’t like internet dating. For the most part it is awkward, weird and not at all fun. People are usually nothing like the tiny little profile they present online, but more about that later.

One of the best dates I ever had was from the internet. Brian contacted me online, we emailed, moved to phone calls, and in general were able to talk and make each other laugh. I still didn’t want to go when we finally arranged a date. I actually backed out the first time, some sorry excuse about my daughter and her first period, which he understood as he has daughters as well. Such an understanding man.

Anyway, the second time we arranged a date I didn’t feel like I could back out, so I made the trek from Sandy to Logan because I don’t like the internet crazy’s to know where I live. We were going golfing, now that made me laugh! Having never hit a golf ball in my life I thought we were both in for a frustrating day, to say the least.

I was pleasantly surprised that Brian looked exactly like the picture he had posted on the dating website, and he was exactly who he seemed to be on the phone. Score! Within minutes I felt like I had known him forever.

He was a lifetime Air Force man, his son gave golf lessons at the Air Force base, so off we went. First we hit some balls from the little green thingy and there was a man in a motorized cart collecting all the golf balls in the field so Brian and Derrick were trying to hit him with a golf ball while I laughed until I almost peed my pants.

Then it was onto the course. I was nervous, especially when they paired us up with two older men who owned actual golf pants. Fortunately they were all very patient with me, even laughing at the weird little baby stepping, butt shaking dance I had to do to get my feet in the right place.

It was the best internet date ever. We were singing and making up rules and skipping and eating hotdogs from a little shack on the course. All in all a good day was had by all…… Too bad he wasn’t really divorced……….another reason I hate internet dating!

Letting go

2009-05-27T16:01:00.000-07:00

High school graduation. How does it sneak up on us so quickly? This past weekend my sister, my niece, my daughter and I drove to Ruidoso New Mexico to my nephew’s high school graduation.

It still seems very surreal. Where did the time go? I remember when I was younger, when my daughter was younger, hearing people say that they still think of their children as young children, no matter their age. I thought they were crazy.

Now I know how it feels. My niece is almost 22 but when I think of her and she is not standing right in front of me, the picture of her that lives in my mind, she is about three, tiny little face and a huge mass of out of control curls, running through the house in her nightgown saying “ Maggie Simpson, Maggie Simpson, I’m gonna babysit you!” We have no idea why she said that, but it was her thing for a while.

My nephew will be eighteen in a few weeks, and just graduated from high school, he has a car, a job, a plan for college, but when I think of him, he is all dressed up climbing on the bus for the first day of kindergarten. His little boy comb over smoothly in place, holding Scooby doo because he is scared.

We all went out to dinner and we followed him because he knows the area, it seems so weird that my sister’s baby has a life we know nothing about, drives streets we’ve never been driven, eats at restaurants we’ve never seen. He valet parked his car life he had been doing it all his life. Who taught him these things that we haven’t been part of, or was he just born knowing his place is this world and navigating accordingly?

My daughter is closing in on sixteen, as she reminds me daily. I know I need to let go, she really doesn’t have a life because I’m too over protective. Her friends can come to our house but I don’t really let her run with the crowd. It’s too scary, so many things can happen. I know I need to ease up and let her have a life, every time I give myself that little pep talk, I’m right at the brink of letting go, and then I realize, I’m not ready, we still have to wait, just a little longer.

How do you let go? I know she needs to make some mistakes while I can still guide her, but the thought of her getting hurt is too much. Especially knowing that getting hurt today is way different than getting hurt when I was sixteen, and could have much longer lasting repercussions.

So, I hope one day she forgives me, I’m new at this letting go thing. When I take my niece to the trax station I still remind her not to cross in front of the train, or to watch out for cars in the parking lot, she’s twenty one and I still can’t stop.

Maybe if I had a house full of kids it would be easier, the letting go would happen naturally, almost without thinking about it because when the oldest were stretching their wings you would still be so busy with the younger ones, and then when the younger ones get to that age you would know they would be ok. Or maybe I’m just up in the night and we all lay awake and wonder how we can let our babies out the door into this mean old world without us.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Lunatics

2009-05-26T19:11:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhhhhh, vacation. Sounds wonderful doesn’t it? Four days, no work, no chores, just relaxing with my family. What could be better?

I don’t want to give you the impression that the trip wasn’t wonderful, it was, it’s just that twenty eight hours in a car with two PMS’ing girls, really, not at the top of anyone’s list of a good time!

We left on Friday, as soon as Kay got home and Mo got out of school. That was the plan, Ned and I watched the clock and paced, come on, come on, we wanna get out of here!

We were waiting for Kay, who called us in somewhat of a panic, she was trying to cash her paycheck and it was unreadable. She was panicking because she needed money for the trip. So, after Ang talked her down off the ledge, we waited for her to come home.

Ok. Girls are accounted for, and we are off. I won’t bore you with the details of the trip but I laughed so hard that my sides still ache. Who knew knock knock jokes were still so funny? We laughed until we cried, we were tired and giggly a lot of the trip, so everything was funny. Like Kay walking into a motel in Gallup with her bag and a lemon cake, at two in the morning. Or Ang talking to me on the phone and asking Kyle if he took her phone again because she can’t find it.

We had to stand on the hotel bed to take pictures because the room was so small there wasn’t anywhere else for all of us to stand, and there were eight of us. We tried to make Kyle do the Zoolander face, he didn’t want any part of it, but we laughed anyway. We went to dinner at the casino and Kyle’s uncle ate on a little plate and broke his chair while his girlfriend danced with her ice cream. Doesn’t sound that funny but trust me, it was.

They sell actual alcohol in Walmart in New Mexico. We looked like a bunch of Mormon’s let out on a weekend pass. We were amazed at what you could buy in Walmart. We bought box wine and paper cups, nothing but the best for us!

Kyle’s graduation was wonderful, his graduating class had around 100 kids in it, small town life at it’s best. Since we are not very good at organizing what comes next, we left when the last speaker was droning on. Poor Kyle had to call us at the hotel and ask for a ride, there were fourteen people at his graduation and we had all abandoned him, thinking someone else was giving him a ride.

My beautiful Mo, why do boys check you out everywhere we stop? Tell them you are too little, tell them your Daddy will kick their butts, tell them anything so they stop looking. Oh wait, you are checking them out too.

Kay had two Native American’s comment on her tattoo in Gallup, if you read her blog it’s very funny, she calls them Gallupians. Kay is the only person I know that can make chubby Indian men take their shirts off at 8am in a McDonalds.

Mo told me gullible isn’t in the dictionary, guess who’s gullible enough to believe that?

No trip is complete without poop talk. I don’t know what it is, but even now that our girls are grown, that’s still the first thing we say when they don’t feel good “ Did you try to poop?” “ Mom, I don’t’ have to poop!” “ Go try, you’ll feel better.”

I spent time with my ex husbands family as well, my sister and I married and divorced brothers, so our families are still intertwined with theirs. I was grateful that I have a good relationship with my ex husband and his girlfriend, that we are able to stand together and provide a united front and lots of support to Mo, that I am able to continue to have a relationship with people who were part of my life for so long.

It was a sad time as well, my ex brother in law has Lou Gehrigs disease and is now in a wheelchair, it will probably be the last time I see him. My heart broke for his wife, she is such a wonderful person, and they have been so happy together after taking so long to find each other.

I had the time of my life. I love these people more than air. Waking up in the morning to my sister, my niece, and my daughter, hearing their laughter, juggling showers and hairdryers and teeth brushing. Sharing a bed with my daughter, peeing on the side of the road when the next services are just too far away. So many moments we wouldn’t have had together without this trip.

It was the best twenty eight hours I’ve spent in a long time.

New Mexico

2009-05-19T15:51:00.000-07:00

This is the longest week. It’s always like that when you’re looking forward to something. Friday we leave to go to New Mexico for my nephew’s graduation. I’m excited to have the time off work, also excited to see Kyle.

It’s going to be a strange trip. My sister and I married, and later divorced, brothers. My nephew lives in New Mexico with my ex brother in law and his new wife. My ex husband and his girlfriend will be there, along with various other ex in laws. This should be fun.

I have a great relationship with my ex husband, and his girlfriend, and his baby’s momma! Kind of funny actually, my darling daughter became a big sister at 15, so now her extended family is way more extended than any of us ever imagined.

But back to the vacation this weekend. My sister Ned, her daughter Kay, Mo and I will drive the twelve hours down and twelve hours back. That part will be fun, girlie road trip, singing along with the radio, frequent bathroom breaks, laughing together, in general being silly.

Then we will get to New Mexico. I’m not sure my ex husbands family is as ok with our divorce as we are, most of them no longer even talk to our daughter. So graduation and whatever comes after should be very uncomfortable, for all involved. It will be the first time my sister and her ex husband’s new wife have been in the same place at the same time. The new wife is a little threatened by my sister so the daggers will be flying.

I plan on laughing till my sides ache. Life is way too short to live in the past. I love my life and my family, the whole extended mess of it. I want my daughter and my nephew to remember this as a happy, loving time when all of their family was together, celebrating Kyle’s achievements. My nephew is one of the greatest kids you will ever meet and I certainly hope that the animosity my ex husbands family feels towards my sister and I doesn’t mar his day or make him uncomfortable in any way.

Unfortunately, people get married, people get divorced. It doesn’t always have to be high drama, there doesn’t have to be a good guy and a bad guy. Marriages are made by imperfect people in an imperfect world, is it really a surprise that we divorce?

Who are we kidding?

2009-05-15T14:01:00.000-07:00

It’s Friday, always a very happy day. I’m looking forward to the weekend, going to make some martini’s and watch the world go by. Not really, we are leaving for New Mexico and Kyle’s graduation a week from today so I have lots to do to make sure everything is ready for me to go.

Since I can’t sit and watch the world go by this weekend I’ve been doing it today at work.( Sorry, boss!) Listening to people talk always makes me think- Do I do that? As human beings, most of the time, we are so busy not taking responsibility for the things in our lives that are wrong, but boy do we have time to point out to everyone else what’s wrong with theirs! We don’t want anyone to look at our lives so we keep saying, look over here, look over there, look at what they are doing, yadda, yadda, yadda, look anywhere but at me because I don’t want you to see that I’m not perfect.

I know I do this, dammit, I will try to stop. I always point out to everyone how crappy I think their man is, well, have you met mine? Yeah, not winning any boyfriend of the year awards. Of course I always justify it, I love my sister/ friend so much, and they deserve so much better, why can’t they see that so and so is not good enough for them? On and on and on it goes, because, really, I do know what’s best for everyone except myself, apparently!

Take a look at yourself, do you do this? I bet you do and are not even aware of it. I don’t think we do it to be mean, I think it’s a weird form of self preservation. I don’t know if that makes sense to you but it makes perfect sense to me!

Some examples I’ve seen of this, just today, without even looking-

One of the ladies I work with has to be the saddest person I’ve ever met. She is the first person popping her head up when there is gossip, she loves to repeat it, and embellish it while she’s doing it. She tells us all these stories about what a butt munch her husband is, I mean, the man sleeps with prostitutes, ALL THE TIME! But she is always saying how bad someone else’s marriage is and how very sad it is that so and so puts up with such and such. Hello? Do you have a mirror? Because you should be talking to yourself.

Another lady is always talking about how irresponsible her daughter is, how she charges everything on credit cards, even though she can’t afford it. Then, in the very next breath she talks about the stuff she ordered online or the trip she is going to take, all paid for with her credit card.

Then there is the woman who runs to HR tattling about every little thing any one does, but she sits in the break room and talks about the men she had sex with over the weekend, how much she drank, etc, etc.

And, lest you think it is only the women who do this, there is a man who sits with his scriptures at his desk, doing dirty deals so he can meet his quota, talking about how bad the world is, and how hard he is trying not to let his children be influenced by the immoral people in the world.

Ok, that is today’s rant. I promise to be better, because every time I point at someone else there are three other fingers pointing right back at me, I should pay attention to that.

Laughter

2009-05-14T16:40:00.000-07:00

What makes you happy? Not deep down in your soul happy, we all say the same thing to that question- my kids, my family, my friends, my dogs. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I guess I mean what makes you laugh out loud like a little kid, possibly forcing milk out of your nose. I read somewhere once ( probably the internet!) that the average five year old laughs like 300 times a day and the average adult 5. Well, this is one area where I am so far above average that I may still qualify as a five year old.

What really makes me laugh? Hearing a song on the radio that tickles my funny bone. We all have one, right now mine is called Chickenfried. WTF? It makes me laugh every time I hear it.

Watching someone sing along to the radio at a stop light, especially the people who are really into it and are singing like they are the next American Idol- that makes me laugh, not at them, with them, they are enjoying their life right at that moment no matter what else is going on.

My dogs, make me laugh, watching the little dance they do with each other for yard domination, kills me! First I throw a toy, both dogs run to get it, if Pierre gets it he starts to prance his little ass back to me while Clementine runs interference. Then, he looks at her and drops the toy, knowing how badly she wants it. Clementine picks the toy up and trots over to me and drops it, not close enough that I can throw it, then she looks at me and growls. Meanwhile, Pierre is waiting for his chance, he wants to be dominant dog, so as soon as Clementine lowers her head to pick the toy up again, he is on it! I mean seriously on it, Clementine is trying to get the toy and Pierre is humping the hell out of her head. Now Mo and I have a saying when something is jacked up- Stop humping her head, seriously, no one likes that! So the dogs make me laugh with their domination dance.

My daughter, for all the reasons that she believes make me wish I had some other child living in my house. Mo is clumsy, like tripping over her hair clumsy, even though its only shoulder length- that takes true talent. And she writes I love Mommy in sidewalk chalk on the back patio, priceless.

Katie Cole, if you ever met her I don’t need to say another word but for those of you who don’t know her, she is the funniest person ever and has no idea. We generally scare the crap out of each other in the morning, even though we know we both get up at the same time, basically the middle of the night- 5am- but it still causes both of us to jump the first time we see each other in the morning and then we go into the bathroom to brush our teeth, still giggling cause we scared each other, what a bunch of nerds.

My mother and bear in the big blue house, I’m not going to say anything else, but I’m laughing my ass off right now!

Just a small sampling of the random things that can change my mood. What are yours? What makes you laugh so hard you cry? Who makes you laugh? Do you laugh enough? I think laughing makes you live longer, and if that is true, I’m going to live pretty much forever and your great grandchildren will laugh till milk comes out their noses when they see me riding on my Jazzy in my big purple hat with my underwear on the outside of my pants, eating cake.

MIracles

2009-05-13T17:21:00.001-07:00

Today I am grateful. Thank you God, for my child.

I have been talking with one of the ladies at work and she was telling me about her friend who has been trying so hard to have a baby. Eight long years of doctors and tests and she is finally pregnant.

I remember it well. I’m so very blessed to have my little Mo in my life. We struggled with infertility for several years. We lost three babies, the specialists told us we would never have a biological child. What a devastating sentence that is.

I remember crying, screaming when I was home alone. Hating the world. Hating all of my friends and family for their beautiful healthy babies, that seemed to come so easily to them. Teenage girls can have babies, why couldn’t I?

I remember thinking “What have I done to deserve having this happen to me?” When the days were at their hardest, when I believed I would never have a child and railed at how unfair it all was. Why me God, what did I ever do to deserve this? Why am I not good enough? Now I think, what have I done to deserve being her Mom? I’m in no way worthy of having this wonderful human being call me Mom, but I am thankful every minute for that privilege.

Infertility treatment was a nightmare and the best thing that ever happened to me, all rolled into one. A nightmare because no one should ever have to live through that hormonal roller coaster, and that includes the husbands of us crazy women, a nightmare because you can’t help but hope, dream, think that this time everything is going to be ok. The best thing because of Mo. Thank God for IVF. My beautiful perfect little test tube baby.

I should try harder to remember this when she is making me crazy. I love my beautiful baby girl in all her grown up teenage, eye rolling, messy room, back talking, attitude bound self. She is the sun that shines in my world and I am thankful and blessed.

Twitter, Facebook and blogs

2009-05-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

I’m addicted to Twitter. I know how that sounds, but I need these updates. I follow Ellen, Oprah, CNN, Time and of course Demi and Ashton. Not to mention the people who’s blogs I follow. I follow their tweets as well.

Does anyone really need to know this much information about me? About anyone? Is there really anything anyone needs to know about what goes on at my desk while I’m at work?

Tweets are short, to the point, not much information, so we keep sending them. It’s almost like having our very own tabloid updates. We are a world of voyeurs and we want to know that we are important enough that the world is hanging on our every thought, every word, every moment by moment disaster.

So I tweet, get updates on my phone, all day long. I had to turn the sound off for my text messages. My phone goes off so much is sounds like I know a million people. Not true, it’s just updates on normal lives.

It’s really no different than this blog. Why do I blog? Why does anyone? I have a lot to say, words pour out of me so often I feel like I never shut up. A blog is a place to do that without having to watch people’s eyes glaze over as you talk.

Validation. That’s the bottom line. I’m important, I have things to say that people want to hear, maybe even agree with. I follow my blog friends religiously. I want to know what is going on in their lives, what their kids are doing, what is the latest gossip around their neighborhood water cooler.

Friendship. Everything and everyone is so crazy today, work, kids activities, going to the gym, volunteering, things to do around the house. Who has time to connect with friends on a face to face basis. These invisible people on Twitter and Facebook and my blog, are my friends. I can catch up with them when it’s convenient for me. I can laugh about what the kids did at midnight, if that’s when I have the time.

I’m losing touch so quickly with the day to day people in my life, because we all have busy lives. My best friend Trina calls me either on her way to work, when I’m at work and the phone is ringing off the hook, or on her way home from work, when I’m fixing dinner and reconnecting with my teenager. Neither time is good for me, but those are the times that are best for her. She has a husband, a house full of boys, a grandbaby, a job, not to mention the rest of her family. The time she has in the car is the only time she can talk and gossip uninterrupted. Doesn’t work for me, so I wind up cutting our conversations short and missing her more every day.

But, the people who live in my computer are always available, whenever I have time for them, they have time for me. I can read and feel connected, and not feel like I’m being a bad friend if I don’t return a call for days, or read their blog until 2am. So thank you fellow bloggers, tweeters and internet friends in general. Thank you for the updates, the laughs, the things that make me think. Thanks for being there. I hope I’m there for you too

Sisters

2009-05-12T20:25:00.001-07:00

   My youngest sister just moved in with me. I'm very excited. My niece already lives with me so now it's just us four girls. Well, for a little while, my nephew will spend a month with us in June, before he starts his real life.

   My baby sister's youngest child graduates from high school next week. It's hard to believe that our baby boy is graduating and turning 18. The time flew by. He lives in New Mexico with his Dad and stepmom and is already taking college classes and working, he has always been such a great kid.

   I'm looking forward to this summer with my sisters, my daughter and my nieces. It feels like we are all in a really good place as far as our family relationship goes, and that doesn't always happen!

   I just realized both of today's blogs have been about the babies growing up, I'm getting old, were did the little kids go?

Windows Live™: Keep your life in sync. Check it out.

Wishing it away

2009-05-12T16:30:00.000-07:00

I can’t believe my baby girl is almost 16. Last night when I came home from my sister’s house she was printing out the invitations to her birthday party.This is the first year she will have separate family and friend parties. They will be on the same day but the family earlier in the day, then the friends will come.

I’m so glad that I have a good relationship with my ex husband, supervising twenty teenagers alone is not my idea of a good time. My ex will come and the kids will be better behaved because of it. I’m a pushover, I’m the Mom that can be talked into just about anything, there will be cake fights and water balloons, its tradition.

I sat last night and looked at the birthday pictures from years past, her first, her second with all our of new friends in Utah, her princess party when she turned six, the cake fight from her thirteenth. Where did the time go?

I remember, not that long ago, when we thought we would never have a child. The failed pregnancies that came first, the specialists telling us to check into adoption because we would never have a biological child. Then, like a ray of sunshine, there she was.

Everything has passed so quickly. I remember everyone saying, enjoy her now, she will grow so fast. I thought I enjoyed her babyhood and toddlerhood and elementary age, but it passed so quickly, I didn’t know!

It’s unfair that when you are in the middle of it, you can’t see the beauty in it, then it passes and you look back and there was nothing but beauty. Why didn’t I listen? Why didn’t I sit on the floor and play Barbies with her more, instead of cleaning the house. Why didn’t we adjust our standard of living so I could be home, making lunch and mudpies with her, instead of her daycare mom? Why did I raise my voice, why was I impatient, why did I only see the ruined walls and not the pride on her face when she and Jax drew all over the walls in her room and the playroom.

I remember thinking that each age was the best age, one month, six months, a year, two years, but still, always anticipating the next stage that was going to make my life easier.
I can’t wait until she can hold her own bottle, feed herself, walk, dress herself, talk, take a bath by herself, the list goes on and on.

I guess that’s why we have grandchildren, and why grandchildren get grandparents. We’ve already been through this once so with our children’s children we can see the beauty in their messes and know, first hand, how quickly this will pass. And like all the parents who came before us, we will tell our children, slow down, enjoy your babies, they will grow too quickly. They will roll their eyes at us while they balance the baby on their shoulder and get the two year old out of the dog food and think that we are crazyand that life would be so much easier when the kids are older and they can’t wait until…………

Today is the day!

2009-05-11T14:01:00.000-07:00

How many times have you heard, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” But have you ever really felt like that? I mean really just bounce out of bed knowing that wonderful things await you?

I woke up this morning with such a sense of delight and anticipation, like it really is the first day of the rest of my life. I’m not sure what caused this wonderful sense of impending greatness, but whatever it is, I’m loving it.

Yesterday my sisters and I had a bbq with our daughters for Mother’s Day. It was so much fun. My sisters make me laugh harder than almost anyone else. I always enjoy spending time with them.

It was somewhat of a throw back to when our daughters were little. Our girls are 21, 16 and 15 and the three of them were drawing on the patio with sidewalk chalk, just like when they were little girls, laying on their tummies, getting up covered in chalk dust. It was so much fun, even the dogs got in on it. Clementine had a yellow/green side and Pierre had pink paws. It was a blast.

After the bbq M came over for a while. I put it out there like I haven’t before. I told him I won’t be his sometime girl and that he needs to grow up. He asked me to help him be a man and I told him- Not my job!

It felt very liberating. I discussed my plans and goals with him, and for the first time in a long time there wasn’t a spot in my future reserved for him. It feels so good to be able to look at him and say, this is no longer where I want to be. I want to date a man, not a little boy, and this morning I woke up excited about that opportunity.

Maybe I’m finally growing up!

I feel like I’m in a really good place with my writing as well. I know that is what I want to do, I’m not sure what that’s going to look like but I want to write, all the time. I’ve applied to write a blog for an online dating site and I’m excited to hear back from them. I’m going to keep looking for those opportunities and jump on them as soon as they become available. My short term goal is to be able to support myself with my writing by the time Mo graduates for high school so that gives me two years to get this going!

In my future I see myself watching the birds in the backyard while I have my morning coffee, thinking about the day’s work. I want to be able to garden while coming up with new story ideas, volunteer during the day and use the quiet hours of the night to write. I want to be able to participate in my own life in a way that has not been possible up until now because I am always chasing that paycheck.

I want the fear in my life to go away. The fear that comes with having your fate be controlled by someone else. Companies, boyfriends, family, bosses, all of those people who shape my life on a daily basis but not necessarily with my best interests at heart. After all, we are all human and to be human is to be selfish and think about what we need and what’s in it for us. I want to be done with all of that. I want to do away with the fear and the selfishness and live in abundance.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and finally, I feel ready for it.

I love to garden

2009-05-09T20:00:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned how much I love to garden? I do, really, nothing makes me happier than playing in the dirt. I spend all winter looking for that first sign of spring, a bird, a bee, a little green poking through the brown, and I'm happy.

To me, Mother's Day is the first official day of spring. When I was married our ritual was go to the local garden shop and buy Mom whatever I wanted for Mother's day and then let me spend all day planting it.

I still think that is the best gift going. Last year I had just moved into my house and my best friend, Trina, and our husand, Clay, ( notice the OUR, it's very important), came over, even though their daughter in law was in labor with their first grandchild, and spent all day digging up the sod and planting a beautiful flower bed for me. I think of them everytime I look at those flowers.

This year I couldnt' wait, I started the veggie garden in March and have been steadily planting since them. The important thing to note is that my yard is one tenth of an acre and I've already spent Mo's college fund planting it!

Today my sister Terrie bought me four rose bushes for Mother's Day so I put in a new flower bed. As I stood back to look at this masterpiece I thought of all the roses I don't have and started looking around for more garden space. I have a veggie garden and now three flower beds, there must be more flowers!

First I need to figure out what is the absolute minimum yard space that two ten pound dogs need to do their business. Maybe I should just litter box train them and do away with the back yard completely.

Decisions, decisions, how long to dogs live anyway? They pee on the carpet quite a bit, maybe if I just put carpet in the little box that will speed up the process.

So little time and so many things to google.

It's only chicken people!!!

2009-05-07T17:17:00.000-07:00

Today's blog is more of a rant. I cannot believe the way some people behave!

I had to run some errands after work today so to entice Mo to go with me I told her we could use the free KFC coupons and get chicken for dinner. Sometimes you just have to bride teenagers, oh and I told her I wouldn't tell anyone she ate at KFC because of the way they treat the chickens, so if you see her, you know nothing!

Anyway, we go in, and the cute little girl behind the counter, looking all of 16 at her very first job, sweetly explains to us that due to the high demand KFC has to offer us a raincheck. She was very apologetic and just an all around polite kid.

No big deal, we were still hungry and I had promised the kid KFC so we ordered dinner and sat down to wait for it. There was a steady stream of people with their coupons clutched in their sweaty hands looking for free chicken, but alas, it was not to be. They were all very polite about it, took their rain checks and got on with their lives.

Until..........................A couple walks in, mid to late forties, coupons at the ready. The little girl behind the counter tries to explain the problem and before she can even get to the part about the raincheck, this man, if you can call him a man, starts yelling at her.

" So KFC is backing out of this coupon." he yells, eyes bulging.
" No sir," the very kind counter girl says, " We are giving you this rain check..."
" I dont' want a raincheck, I have a coupon in my hand that says you will give me free chicken and I want free chicken!" Mr. Obnoxious customer yells.
" I'm sorry sir..."
" I don't care if you are sorry, I want my free chicken!" He rants, as his wife stands calmly by his side.

You get the idea, this went on for at least five minutes, him yelling, telling her he is hungry now and is going to use his coupon, her calming stating the thing her manager told her to say, over and over again.

Finally he tells the rest of the people eating what a rip off this is as he stomps out the door. The kind child behind the counter says, " I apologize sir."

And this idiot actually opens the door and says, like a five year old " Apology not accepted!"

Really? This is how adults act? It was free chicken for hells sake. He and his lovely wife drove up in a very nice SUV with a coupon from the internet, printed, mostly likely from their printer connected to their computer at home, but they really only had this option for dinner?

I understand being inconvenienced when a corporation changes the rules. It happens to all of us, it's annoying, it's irritating, it can give your day a bad start. Very rarely is it life changing.

Do you really need to take it out on the child behind the counter making a lousy six bucks an hour to put up with people like you? How bad is your life if you have to treat people like this? And what about that wife? She stood calmly by his side while he treated this child so poorly, how bad is her life?

Ok, enough, I'm just still amazed at his behaviour.

Word Vomit

2009-05-05T16:30:00.000-07:00

It's quite obvious today that I have no idea what to do with myself when I'm home from work. My day has been quite eventful in a totally boring, attention deficit kind of way.

I've fixed myself numerous things to eat, even drove to McDonalds, none of which I ate because I'm sick- remember?- so I can't really taste anything.

Seriously thought about cleaning the garage, for about 30 seconds, then realized the trash hadn't been picked up and both the trash can and the recycling can are full, so that went out the door.

Watched two movies- unbelievable- I dont' usually watch two movies in a month! Nights in Rodanthe- very lovely, there is life and love for us after a divorce- but he's going to die in some freak storm, of course Richard Gere always looks good. And Marley and Me, seems to be a day for tear jerkers, the dog movie made me cry more than the love story, what does that say about me?

What can I say, I love my dogs, even though they think peeing on the floor is a good time.

And I've written, and written and written, I'm even twittering, or whatever it's called. Lots of words are falling out of me today. Time to work on some of the novels, hopefully I still have some good stuff left to say.

Home Repair for the Single Woman

2009-05-05T12:54:00.000-07:00

I did it! After five years of untangling and disengaging myself, legally and financially, from my ex-husband, I bought a home of my own! Nineteen hundred square feet of beautiful, wallpapered space, and it’s mine, all mine!

First thing I did upon getting the keys to my castle was to walk around and make a Honey Do List. How fun! All these tiny little things my home needs, and I am going to do them all by myself!

Ok, number one, the saddle valve from the water line to the swamp cooler leaks, so I get on line and research the repair. Piece of cake, they cost about eight bucks and take ten minutes to fix. I turn off the water to the house and head to the hardware store.

I strut through the hardware store; I am a woman on a mission, outta my way! I find the saddle valve without having to ask for help, one more point for this independent woman, use the self checkout and I’m back home before the dog misses me.

After neatly assembling all the tools I will need, (how very proactive of me), I unscrew the saddle valve, it starts leaking, just a little. No big deal, I think there is probably just a little water left in the line. I unscrew the valve and remove it, water starts spraying everywhere! What is going on? I turned the water off, where is this water coming from? I’m trying to shove the saddle valve back in the hole in the water line, no luck. As I try to cover the hole in the pipe, water is spraying everywhere, my eyes, my hair, the wall. I’m doing a very strange little hopping dance, hoping there is nothing in this room that will electrocute me now that it’s wet. Didn’t I see these moves in Flashdance twenty years ago? Of course, Jennifer Beals looked much better with wet hair than I do. What a feeling.

I’m standing in the utility room in the basement, dripping wet, with my finger over the hole in the pipe, like the Dutch boy with his finger in the dam, trying to figure out what to do. I’m home alone, my cell phone is upstairs, and what would I say if I could call someone? Hello, idiot alert, I’m flooding my basement, please don’t send firemen, they have water hoses, I need the opposite of firemen, someone to suck all the water up.

Finally, in a moment of inspiration I think about the trash can in the basement bath, if I run really fast I can get that, put it under the fountain while I run upstairs and get my phone and, well, I don’t know what, I haven’t gotten that far, but I’m tired of standing in the basement with my finger in a hole!

I let go of the pipe and run to the bathroom, dump the trash on the floor, run back to the utility room and the water is slowing down to a trickle. I guess since I already had my shower the house didn’t feel the need to let anymore water out.

Now I’m glad I didn’t call anyone. I choose to be alone with my soggy basement. I put on the new saddle valve, not quite as proud as I was when the basement was still dry and make a mental note- Always, always drain all water lines before unscrewing anything!

Next up, repairing sprinkler pipes- at least that water will drain down into the ground and not in my face.

Swine flu- seriously people!

2009-05-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

Can't a girl not feel good and not have some highly contagious, weird disease? I mean, come on! I started feeling yucky on Friday and by Sunday night I had chills and a sore throat, nothing major, I even went to work on Monday.

I heard " Get the clorox wipes, she's got the swine" more times than I think was necessary, but I guess everyone has to fear something. Then I went walking with my sister and she was also convinced that it was swine flu and I was infecting her.

I came home. feeling much worse after walking for an hour and finally took my temperature, 101.7, ok, let's call insta care.

I went in, they made me wear a mask and not sit with other people, it was strep. Simple little strep, well maybe not so simple, I certainly felt like shit.

However, I did find out that my teenager, who seems to think I'm no more human than most ATM's, has a nurturing side. She made me hot tea with honey and lemon, heated up the rice packs to put in bed with me when I was shaking from the chills, and got up in the middle of the night to bring me ibuprofen when the fever and chills were killing me. Thank you my sweet little Mo, I am one lucky Momma!

Today I am much better, instead of chills I'm sweating, can't tell if it's from the strep or if it's just hot flashes run amok, either way, the bath tub sure feels good today. Not the greenest activity in the world, taking four or five baths a day, but it feels oh so wonderful.

I'm off to curl up on the couch with a book, the guilty pleasures of being sick. It certainly is nice to have an entire day to do nothing. I keep making a list in my head of all the things I could get done since I'm home anyway, clean the garage, mow the front yard, finish sanding the spare room...... it goes on and on. But I think, just this once, I'm going to take care of me and do absolutely nothing.......if I could just get someone to bring me some food, I'd have it made!

Oh, one more thing. I am trying to take a step everyday towards living my dream ( that whole writing thing) so in addition to writing my stories every day, I started today, applying for freelance writing positions. I'll let you know how it goes!

Bay's cake

2009-05-01T15:39:00.001-07:00

Windows Live™ SkyDrive™: Get 25 GB of free online storage. Check it out.

The cake lady

2009-05-01T12:49:00.000-07:00

Somehow, in the course of my job as H's mom, I've become the birthday cake lady. I don't know how it happened but, if you are under 16 and know me, chances are I've made at least one of your birthday cakes.

I'm don't want you to think I'm good at this, just inventive! I can take box cake mixes, canned frosting, round and square cake pans and turn them into a birthday cake only a child can love.

I think it started with my brother T, when he was ten and crazy about the Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles, I made the four turtle heads, complete with eye scarf thingy's in the correct colors! It's snowballed from there.

So far, and just off the top of my head I have made, a bunch of balloons, a flower, Christmas lights, a castle, doll cakes, boobies ( not for the children), elmo, dora the explorer, a train, blocks, a childs name, and a football that was clearly an intoxicated mistake since it was for my neice's first birthday- the only thing that saved me was the December birthday and the Sunday party- the football looked like it was on purpose!

Why am I rambling about cakes you ask? I like cake, mixing them, baking them, cutting them, frosting them and of course eating them.

I sent a pic of the flower cake I made for B's first birthday party tomorrow, and sent it from my phone, so far, it hasn't shown up- maybe it will and you will see how immensely talented I am. Or maybe that's just better left to the imagination!