No creativity tonight. This won't be a blog you'll really enjoy. But I need to write so here I sit.
If I "had" someone here, I'd cry on their shoulder and babble on about lots of unrelated things that wouldn't make a lot of sense. But no one's here right now, so I'm typing.
If I actually "had" someone here, maybe they'd just understand it's me and let me cry and babble. But no one's here right now, so I'm typing.
I got myself all tense about some stuff for work. A deadline I thought was later this week was actually yesterday (though that deadline was made with a couple day's breathing room, actually). I promised I'd have everything ready first thing tomorrow morning. The problem is I forgot to keep a copy of some testing I did of my class and didn't get to the lady who has the original before she left Monday so I'll walk into school without having kept my promise and that makes me sick. So I'm stressed over that.
And today was full of reminders that my baby (my first one) is growing up. I know, I know, she's only ten, but she's changing already. I can tell it in her emotions and her sense of responsibility.
For example, the past five years of schooling for Meg have been years of her and I battling over her homework. It was a battle that started right after school and ended well after dinner...sometimes til bed or worse. This year, she just does it. She had a bit of work she didn't finish last night (knowing she had today off school). So this morning, I decide to sleep in just a little bit. 7:30 or 8:00, I thought. Meg is a real morning person. She got up somewhere around 6:40 and headed to the living room. Alli had crawled into my bed in the night and at around 7:00 or 7:15 she woke and realized Meg had gotten up and she went to the living room, too. Seconds later she was crawling back in my bed, saying, "Megan's doing her spelling." ?????????????????????????? Without being told? Got up, resisted the tv, resisted her DS, resisted getting every toy on earth out to spread around the living room in Saturday morning style....and did homework. It might not sound like a big deal, but if you knew how often these little things happen, you'd see too that Meg's growing up.
Then to add insult to injury, tonight Megan shaved her legs for the first time. Now I know some will think it's insane. Too young. There are a lot of things that I feel strongly shouldn't happen too young, too. But shaving isn't one of them. It was one of those things that made her feel self-conscious. So the shaving has begun.
And I sit here feeling sad. It's like...a rite of passage or something. And I'm proud of her. So very proud of the young lady she's slowly becoming. I know she's still a little girl in so many ways, too, but the journey is beginning. It fills me with feelings of regret. There are so many things I want/wanted for her childhood and before I know it, it will all be over. And there's nothing I can do about it. I just wish for a sound family for her and Alli. And while I think that as a single mom, I do a pretty good job...in so many ways, I don't feel like I make us a "family." I'm not good at creating traditions all on my own. And they come home from dad's talking about the things they do...or traditions, etc., and I feel ... cheated somehow. He's presenting a family life to them and what am I giving them?
And now I feel like I'm running out of time. I want so badly to model for them what two loving parents should be like. I want them to see a good marriage so they can grow up to expect good and not just put up with who knows what. But there's just me. I can't model a relationship when I don't have one.
So yeah, I'm blue tonight. And I wish it was just tonight that I feel this way, but I think these feelings lay down in my heart a lot of the time. But what do you do? You can't change reality? You can move forward in your life and do your best, but you can't just dictate it.
None of this is what I dreamed of as a child. And I sit back and wonder how I could have made such monumental mistakes to be left with the life I've got right now.
I could ramble on a long time, but I'm stopping now. I don't know if this is the sort of thing you vent in a blog, but I guess I just did.
I'll be back soon with something more than this therapy session.....
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Guess Who's a What!!
(2 blogs, 1 day = difficulty focusing)
This year, my daughter, Megan, decided she wanted to try out for the school choir, The Bayshore Singers. Auditions were this morning and she was excited and ready to go.
This afternoon, I walked into my classroom after some after-school duties and she was waiting in my room.
She grabbed both my arms and said, "GUESS WHO'S A WHAT!!"
I said, "You're a Bayshore Singer??!"
And she screamed, "YES!!!!" and jumped up into my arms. (And I wonder why my back hurts, lol.)
She is so excited to have made it through auditions and to have made the choir. And so I had to come brag a bit about my girl. Mom's are supposed to do that, you know. Isn't it nice that we enjoy it so much??? :D
This year, my daughter, Megan, decided she wanted to try out for the school choir, The Bayshore Singers. Auditions were this morning and she was excited and ready to go.
This afternoon, I walked into my classroom after some after-school duties and she was waiting in my room.
She grabbed both my arms and said, "GUESS WHO'S A WHAT!!"
I said, "You're a Bayshore Singer??!"
And she screamed, "YES!!!!" and jumped up into my arms. (And I wonder why my back hurts, lol.)
She is so excited to have made it through auditions and to have made the choir. And so I had to come brag a bit about my girl. Mom's are supposed to do that, you know. Isn't it nice that we enjoy it so much??? :D
Alli Strikes Again, aka, What Are YOUR Kids Watching?
We're hanging out this evening watching Spongebob and a few minutes ago commercials came on. Now, thanks to DVR technology, I almost never watch commercials anymore, but tonight we're watching "Live."
So a commercial came on with some man and his dog and the man said he was going to be hosting the Fido Awards on Nick at Nite.
Alli looked over at me and I THOUGHT she said, "Nick at Nite? ... So do we need to get naked???"
I said, "What????" Then it hit me, and I told her, "NOT Naked Night, NICK...at Nite."
So what are YOUR kids watching???
So a commercial came on with some man and his dog and the man said he was going to be hosting the Fido Awards on Nick at Nite.
Alli looked over at me and I THOUGHT she said, "Nick at Nite? ... So do we need to get naked???"
I said, "What????" Then it hit me, and I told her, "NOT Naked Night, NICK...at Nite."
So what are YOUR kids watching???
Friday, September 26, 2008
Just a quote from Alli...
Problably one of those have-to-be-there sorts of things....or something only a mother enjoys, but I'm writing it anyway, because this is MY blog and I can write whatever I want, lol. :D
Al was playing with some boxes I have. They're the kind that fit inside each other like nesting dolls. These particular ones actually turn into a sort of Santa Claus if you take them out and stack them up. Don't ask me why she has them out in September.
She took them out and apart, then put them back together and said, "Three boxes that fit into one. That's dandy!"
Indeed it is.
Al was playing with some boxes I have. They're the kind that fit inside each other like nesting dolls. These particular ones actually turn into a sort of Santa Claus if you take them out and stack them up. Don't ask me why she has them out in September.
She took them out and apart, then put them back together and said, "Three boxes that fit into one. That's dandy!"
Indeed it is.
Where to?
Where do you go after "hoarse crack"? Now there's a question you never thought you'd hear, huh? Well, I'd never really anticipated such a question either, but then again, I never really anticipated someone telling me I've got hoarse crack. But, regardless of expectations and anticipations, that's the question of the evening.
Hmmmm...what do you say we talk about my cooking? Sad that the term "hoarse crack" makes me think of my cooking, but, well, if you'd ever ate something I cooked, you might see the connection.
You think I kid, don't you? Think I'm being rough on myself? Well, let's see. Come with me. You'll have to be really quiet, because we're going to spy. Spy on who? Well, my toughest critics: my children.
Let's have a look:
It's a Friday evening and my kids have become a little too accustomed to "convenience foods." But, like Old Mother Hubbard's cupboards, mine were looking pretty bare, so I resorted to cooking from scratch. This alone raised suspicion, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so scratchin' I did. I can't recall right now just exactly what I made, but it was nothing bizarre and really wasn't a flop. Now, admittedly, it was also NOT gourmet, but we aren't exactly the silver spoon set, so we don't see much gourmet, anyway.
The girls took their dishes and headed to the living room to watch some tv while they ate. I was still doing something (again I don't remember what) so I remained in the kitchen...which actually was open to the living room. It was one of those "great room" setups. So I wasn't sitting with them, but I could hear them and see them. Now listen closely and you can hear them, too.
Allison: Pray! (Allison's command for "saying Grace".)
Megan: (quietly) We'd better pray that this stuff is edible.
Do I really need to say more? Probably not, but I'll give you another example. Again, it comes from my toughest critics.
This summer we were visiting family in Montana. My mom, my sister in law, my brother and I were sitting in Mom's living room. My niece said something about someone's cooking being good. Then she said something like, "Well all three of you are good cooks." I chuckled and said, "Well, Faithie, technically I'm not that good." And as she sweetly smiled at me, my daughter tried coming to my defense by saying, "Well, Mom, you don't really cook. You microwave."
With "friends" like these....
Ok, one more case in point. Within the last month I again was doing some real cooking. I asked the girls what they thought of whatever it was I'd cooked and Allison looked at me and said, "Not bad for a beginning cooker, Mom."
So there ya have it...my cooking naturally follows the subject of hoarse crack.
Go figure.
Hmmmm...what do you say we talk about my cooking? Sad that the term "hoarse crack" makes me think of my cooking, but, well, if you'd ever ate something I cooked, you might see the connection.
You think I kid, don't you? Think I'm being rough on myself? Well, let's see. Come with me. You'll have to be really quiet, because we're going to spy. Spy on who? Well, my toughest critics: my children.
Let's have a look:
It's a Friday evening and my kids have become a little too accustomed to "convenience foods." But, like Old Mother Hubbard's cupboards, mine were looking pretty bare, so I resorted to cooking from scratch. This alone raised suspicion, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so scratchin' I did. I can't recall right now just exactly what I made, but it was nothing bizarre and really wasn't a flop. Now, admittedly, it was also NOT gourmet, but we aren't exactly the silver spoon set, so we don't see much gourmet, anyway.
The girls took their dishes and headed to the living room to watch some tv while they ate. I was still doing something (again I don't remember what) so I remained in the kitchen...which actually was open to the living room. It was one of those "great room" setups. So I wasn't sitting with them, but I could hear them and see them. Now listen closely and you can hear them, too.
Allison: Pray! (Allison's command for "saying Grace".)
Megan: (quietly) We'd better pray that this stuff is edible.
Do I really need to say more? Probably not, but I'll give you another example. Again, it comes from my toughest critics.
This summer we were visiting family in Montana. My mom, my sister in law, my brother and I were sitting in Mom's living room. My niece said something about someone's cooking being good. Then she said something like, "Well all three of you are good cooks." I chuckled and said, "Well, Faithie, technically I'm not that good." And as she sweetly smiled at me, my daughter tried coming to my defense by saying, "Well, Mom, you don't really cook. You microwave."
With "friends" like these....
Ok, one more case in point. Within the last month I again was doing some real cooking. I asked the girls what they thought of whatever it was I'd cooked and Allison looked at me and said, "Not bad for a beginning cooker, Mom."
So there ya have it...my cooking naturally follows the subject of hoarse crack.
Go figure.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
A 5-Year-Old's Diagnosis
Well, this was day two without a voice. I was only hoarse when I left school yesterday. Today my voice cut in and out, but when it was "in" it was pretty weak. This really perplexes 5-year-olds. (Can you make 'perplex' a verb?)
One little boy came into my classroom this morning and upon hearing my voice became immediately interested. He sat down at a computer near me and after a few minutes he turned to me and said (in his little gruff booming voice), "You've got hoarse crack!" (Or was it 'horse crack'? I've got no idea.) I chuckled and said, "You mean I have a hoarse voice." He looked at me like that was about the most ridiculous thing in the world and said, very emphatically, "You don't got a hoarse voice! You've got hoarse crack!!"
I think I feel worse now that I've got a diagnosis.
One little boy came into my classroom this morning and upon hearing my voice became immediately interested. He sat down at a computer near me and after a few minutes he turned to me and said (in his little gruff booming voice), "You've got hoarse crack!" (Or was it 'horse crack'? I've got no idea.) I chuckled and said, "You mean I have a hoarse voice." He looked at me like that was about the most ridiculous thing in the world and said, very emphatically, "You don't got a hoarse voice! You've got hoarse crack!!"
I think I feel worse now that I've got a diagnosis.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
"I Miss My Time With You"
I know we all hold different beliefs, but I'm going to talk personally here. Time for some serious.
Yeeeeears ago...like when I was a teenager (that really really hurt to type)...Larnelle Harris came out with a song called, "I Miss My Time With You." And although it grieves my heart to confess, I think that song is what God is singing about me these days. Here are the words...
"There he was just waiting,
in our old familiar place
an empty spot beside him,
where once i used to wait
To be filled with strength and wisdom
for the battles of the day
I would have passed him by again
If I didn't hear him say
(chorus)
I miss my time with you
Those moments together
I need to be with you each day
And it hurt's me when you say
You're too busy
Busy trying to serve me
But how can you serve me
When your spirit's empty
Tthere's a longing in my heart
Wanting more than just a part of you
It's true.......I miss my time with you
What do I have to offer
How can I truly care
My efforts have no meaning
When your presence isn't there
But you will provide the power
If I take time to pray
I'll stay right here beside you
And you will never have to say...
I miss my time with you
Those moments together
I need to be with you each day
And it hurt's me when you say
You're too busy
Busy trying to serve me
But how can you serve me
When your spirit's empty
Tthere's a longing in my heart
Wanting more than just a part of you
It's true.......I miss my time with you"
(If you care to hear it, youtube will oblige at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtDoQUQuQBQ)
That song stung my heart all those years ago...and it still does today. I struggle...and always have...with anything involving discipline. (Thank God for a high metabolism...seriously.) And along those lines of discipline come the spiritual discipline of taking time out of each day just to spend in God's word. To allow Him to speak to me and to teach me His ways and His wisdom. To be with Him and draw upon His strength.
And the thing is...the thing that makes that song speak so loudly to me...is the personal nature of it. God, through Jesus, is very personal with me. I know some don't understand it. I know some haven't experienced it. And I know that some aren't interested right now. And that grieves my heart. It really does. How much a person misses by not experiencing the personal relationship we can have with Jesus. It's not a matter of rules...of do's and don'ts. It's not even JUST a matter of eternity, life after death...it's about here and now. It's about hope and strength in the middle of a world that doesn't offer much. It's about love and joy when things around us can bring such unhappiness. It's about healing and wholeness in the midst of disease and brokenness.
It may sound to some like I'm preaching (if you've bothered to read this far.) But I don't mean it that way at all. I don't mean it as judgement or a setting of myself above anyone else. Because YOUR relationship with God is personal, too. And anyway, your relationship with Him isn't even why I'm writing this.
I'm talking about my own. What is God saying to me these days? Well...a few things. First would be the message of the song...that He misses me.
Secondly, I think if He were sitting here and speaking with audible voice, He'd be telling me that He is all I need. Something in my heart has always wanted "someone" to fill it. I've loved the Lord and spiritually He IS enough. But I get my sight off Him and I long for a human to tell me that they love me...that they choose me...that they want to be with me more than anyone else in the world. And I get so absorbed in that longing, that I don't give God time. And how can He be all I need if I don't let Him in like I should? If my focus isn't on Him? So I think that would be a big thing He'd say, too.
And thirdly, I think He'd tell me that I'm not alone. That I don't have to carry everything alone. I struggle as a single mom, trying to be everything an entire family and household need. And I get to pitying the situation and feeling like I'm in it alone. But the truth is, I'm not. If I could count the times I've specifically realized that God provided or came through for me there wouldn't be enough space on this blog. And there are heaps more that only He realizes because...well...sometimes I'm clueless. (Please don't tell anyone; my cluelessness is a secret.)
I'm sure He could come up with a whole lot more to say. And Him being the wise one, I'm sure He'd have other truth that I wouldn't even suspect....but it would meet a need and it would heal a hurt and it would bring me another step closer to wholeness.
I love God. I love Jesus. I know to some that sounds like mumbo jumbo...something someone just says, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Without Him, I'm nothing. There have been plenty of people in this world who prove that's about the value they'd place on me. But WITH Him...I'm SOMEONE. To Him, I have worth.
So I'm thinking it's time I started giving Him more time. Give Him the chance again to work in my heart.
Just thought I'd share....
Yeeeeears ago...like when I was a teenager (that really really hurt to type)...Larnelle Harris came out with a song called, "I Miss My Time With You." And although it grieves my heart to confess, I think that song is what God is singing about me these days. Here are the words...
"There he was just waiting,
in our old familiar place
an empty spot beside him,
where once i used to wait
To be filled with strength and wisdom
for the battles of the day
I would have passed him by again
If I didn't hear him say
(chorus)
I miss my time with you
Those moments together
I need to be with you each day
And it hurt's me when you say
You're too busy
Busy trying to serve me
But how can you serve me
When your spirit's empty
Tthere's a longing in my heart
Wanting more than just a part of you
It's true.......I miss my time with you
What do I have to offer
How can I truly care
My efforts have no meaning
When your presence isn't there
But you will provide the power
If I take time to pray
I'll stay right here beside you
And you will never have to say...
I miss my time with you
Those moments together
I need to be with you each day
And it hurt's me when you say
You're too busy
Busy trying to serve me
But how can you serve me
When your spirit's empty
Tthere's a longing in my heart
Wanting more than just a part of you
It's true.......I miss my time with you"
(If you care to hear it, youtube will oblige at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtDoQUQuQBQ)
That song stung my heart all those years ago...and it still does today. I struggle...and always have...with anything involving discipline. (Thank God for a high metabolism...seriously.) And along those lines of discipline come the spiritual discipline of taking time out of each day just to spend in God's word. To allow Him to speak to me and to teach me His ways and His wisdom. To be with Him and draw upon His strength.
And the thing is...the thing that makes that song speak so loudly to me...is the personal nature of it. God, through Jesus, is very personal with me. I know some don't understand it. I know some haven't experienced it. And I know that some aren't interested right now. And that grieves my heart. It really does. How much a person misses by not experiencing the personal relationship we can have with Jesus. It's not a matter of rules...of do's and don'ts. It's not even JUST a matter of eternity, life after death...it's about here and now. It's about hope and strength in the middle of a world that doesn't offer much. It's about love and joy when things around us can bring such unhappiness. It's about healing and wholeness in the midst of disease and brokenness.
It may sound to some like I'm preaching (if you've bothered to read this far.) But I don't mean it that way at all. I don't mean it as judgement or a setting of myself above anyone else. Because YOUR relationship with God is personal, too. And anyway, your relationship with Him isn't even why I'm writing this.
I'm talking about my own. What is God saying to me these days? Well...a few things. First would be the message of the song...that He misses me.
Secondly, I think if He were sitting here and speaking with audible voice, He'd be telling me that He is all I need. Something in my heart has always wanted "someone" to fill it. I've loved the Lord and spiritually He IS enough. But I get my sight off Him and I long for a human to tell me that they love me...that they choose me...that they want to be with me more than anyone else in the world. And I get so absorbed in that longing, that I don't give God time. And how can He be all I need if I don't let Him in like I should? If my focus isn't on Him? So I think that would be a big thing He'd say, too.
And thirdly, I think He'd tell me that I'm not alone. That I don't have to carry everything alone. I struggle as a single mom, trying to be everything an entire family and household need. And I get to pitying the situation and feeling like I'm in it alone. But the truth is, I'm not. If I could count the times I've specifically realized that God provided or came through for me there wouldn't be enough space on this blog. And there are heaps more that only He realizes because...well...sometimes I'm clueless. (Please don't tell anyone; my cluelessness is a secret.)
I'm sure He could come up with a whole lot more to say. And Him being the wise one, I'm sure He'd have other truth that I wouldn't even suspect....but it would meet a need and it would heal a hurt and it would bring me another step closer to wholeness.
I love God. I love Jesus. I know to some that sounds like mumbo jumbo...something someone just says, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Without Him, I'm nothing. There have been plenty of people in this world who prove that's about the value they'd place on me. But WITH Him...I'm SOMEONE. To Him, I have worth.
So I'm thinking it's time I started giving Him more time. Give Him the chance again to work in my heart.
Just thought I'd share....
The Sounds of Silence...It's Not Just Music Anymore
Remember this song? (From Sesame Street)
"Has anybody seen my dog?
Has anybody seen my dog?
He left me crying, wo-wo-wo
Why'd he ever have to go?"
It's much longer than that. That's just the part that came to mind easily.
Well, I just wasted a hefty amount of time trying to find it SOMEWHERE on the internet (without paying) and I must say...it is a carefully guarded item. Lyrics? Easy. Audio? Not so easy.
Anyway, I was just looking for it because...for whatever reason...it came to mind. Only, I thought it should be changed to...
Has anybody heard my voice?
Has anybody heard my voice?
It's left me speechless, wo-wo-wo
Why'd it ever have to go?
But here I sit in near-silence, and the internet returns that silence over and over again.
::sigh:: Such a loss.
How can I sing along with Mamma Mia when I can barely croak out a "Hello?"
My little kindergarteners will think they've hit the jackpot. They can talk over me without even trying now. Recess is bound to be an unhappy experience tomorrow. Tsk, tsk, tsk. 'Tis a pity, I know.
Oh the ever-lovin' inconvenience of it all.
BUT, let's face it, there are times when we all love silence. Crave it, even. For example:
1. The end of the day. Case in point: just this afternoon, I was after my own children to keep it down. They were in typical "I'M FREEEEEEE" mode like all children right after school. And I was in a teacher's typical "Can EVERYONE please...just...stop...talking?" mode. At which point, of course, at least one person starts making some other sound like...
...leaning back in their chair so it creaks like a rusty door hinge.
...humming.
...plinking their pencils or crayons on the table.
...spinning their scissors around one finger on the tabletop.
...TALKING anyway...as if they had no clue.
...making loud sighing sounds.
...insisting that they have to go to the bathroom...RIGHT...NOW!!!
...and my personal favorite, outright yelling, because they're five and occasionally they just let loose.
I was in that "please no more noise" mode. Maybe it wasn't because of a long busy day. Maybe it was because my voice was on the way out and I was feeling jealous of the vocal world. I don't know. It's hard to say.
2. When listening to some real awe-inspiring music, like Josh Groban. SILENCE PLEASE. Close your eyes and you can almost FEEL the beauty of the music. It's incredible.
3. During the news. Booo hiss! (I just don't go for the news. It tries to scare me and I'm trying really hard to be brave, here. So don't tell me a killer's on the loose. I know they're out there anyway, but don't make me concentrate on it, k?)
4. When we're on the phone? Hmmmm. Now how many moms would like the luxury of silence around them when they're on the phone? Why is it that despite the phone you have pressed against your ear, the movement of your lips, and the sound of your voice, a child still thinks they can talk to you at the same time? Why is that when they begin practicing for their "American Idol" auditions? WITH AMPS of course? Why oh why?
5. When we're sorting out nasty things like checkbooks and bank accounts. Of course that's when the kids start singing "The Numbers Rhumba."
6. When you have a killer headache...like the sort you get with a sinus infection. Those are fun. And noise makes them even better, no?
7. When I pray.
8. When I read. I can't listen to music AND read. It's got to be one or the other. You can forget all about multi-tasking, people.
Well, I guess I've rambled on long enough. There was really no point to this post...which is most likely the reason you don't get it. There's nothing to get. It's just a natural sedative...and me pining for a voice.
"Has anybody seen my dog?
Has anybody seen my dog?
He left me crying, wo-wo-wo
Why'd he ever have to go?"
It's much longer than that. That's just the part that came to mind easily.
Well, I just wasted a hefty amount of time trying to find it SOMEWHERE on the internet (without paying) and I must say...it is a carefully guarded item. Lyrics? Easy. Audio? Not so easy.
Anyway, I was just looking for it because...for whatever reason...it came to mind. Only, I thought it should be changed to...
Has anybody heard my voice?
Has anybody heard my voice?
It's left me speechless, wo-wo-wo
Why'd it ever have to go?
But here I sit in near-silence, and the internet returns that silence over and over again.
::sigh:: Such a loss.
How can I sing along with Mamma Mia when I can barely croak out a "Hello?"
My little kindergarteners will think they've hit the jackpot. They can talk over me without even trying now. Recess is bound to be an unhappy experience tomorrow. Tsk, tsk, tsk. 'Tis a pity, I know.
Oh the ever-lovin' inconvenience of it all.
BUT, let's face it, there are times when we all love silence. Crave it, even. For example:
1. The end of the day. Case in point: just this afternoon, I was after my own children to keep it down. They were in typical "I'M FREEEEEEE" mode like all children right after school. And I was in a teacher's typical "Can EVERYONE please...just...stop...talking?" mode. At which point, of course, at least one person starts making some other sound like...
...leaning back in their chair so it creaks like a rusty door hinge.
...humming.
...plinking their pencils or crayons on the table.
...spinning their scissors around one finger on the tabletop.
...TALKING anyway...as if they had no clue.
...making loud sighing sounds.
...insisting that they have to go to the bathroom...RIGHT...NOW!!!
...and my personal favorite, outright yelling, because they're five and occasionally they just let loose.
I was in that "please no more noise" mode. Maybe it wasn't because of a long busy day. Maybe it was because my voice was on the way out and I was feeling jealous of the vocal world. I don't know. It's hard to say.
2. When listening to some real awe-inspiring music, like Josh Groban. SILENCE PLEASE. Close your eyes and you can almost FEEL the beauty of the music. It's incredible.
3. During the news. Booo hiss! (I just don't go for the news. It tries to scare me and I'm trying really hard to be brave, here. So don't tell me a killer's on the loose. I know they're out there anyway, but don't make me concentrate on it, k?)
4. When we're on the phone? Hmmmm. Now how many moms would like the luxury of silence around them when they're on the phone? Why is it that despite the phone you have pressed against your ear, the movement of your lips, and the sound of your voice, a child still thinks they can talk to you at the same time? Why is that when they begin practicing for their "American Idol" auditions? WITH AMPS of course? Why oh why?
5. When we're sorting out nasty things like checkbooks and bank accounts. Of course that's when the kids start singing "The Numbers Rhumba."
6. When you have a killer headache...like the sort you get with a sinus infection. Those are fun. And noise makes them even better, no?
7. When I pray.
8. When I read. I can't listen to music AND read. It's got to be one or the other. You can forget all about multi-tasking, people.
Well, I guess I've rambled on long enough. There was really no point to this post...which is most likely the reason you don't get it. There's nothing to get. It's just a natural sedative...and me pining for a voice.
Monday, September 22, 2008
The Seven Dwarves, All Rolled Into One
I'm not sure how this whole line of thought came to be...other than I'm grumpy this afternoon and when I say I'm grumpy, I have this need to clarify that I don't mean the dwarf. And I got started thinking, a dangerous thing, I know. I was thinking how, at one time or another, I'm all those dwarves.
So I looked up their names. I mean, who can be bothered to recite them from memory?? (Confession: I tried. I got Grumpy, Sleepy, and Dopey and couldn't be bothered to go any further. And I only got Grumpy and Sleepy because that's how I feel at the moment. And, well, ... Dopey? He was the cute one.) Soooooo, thanks to some help from our friends at google (again), I present you with a handy list of the dwarves: Bashful, Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, and Sneezy.
I don't know why, but I just read "Slappy" in there somewhere.
Hey! Look at that! They even alphabetized them! Geeks after my own heart.
ANYWAY, as I was saying, really, at one time or another I'm all of the dwarves. Let's look at some examples, shall we?
1. Bashful. When I handed GP a bunch of daisies during his concert, I was definitely Bashful. One can be Bashful and still act boldly. That's called BRAVERY...or sometimes FOOLISHNESS. But somewhere between that moment of bashfulness and the time I finally get to the front of the meet and greet line, I somehow become Sassy...who, I'm quite sure, is a relative of the Seven.
2. Doc. Hey, I'm a mom. For the first three years of Alli's life, I KNEW when she was doing her projectile hurling, that it was just another tooth coming. Don't be alarmed; just grab the bucket!!! See? Not just a doc, but a BRRRRILLIANT diagnostician. (Currently not taking any new patients, sorry.)
3. Dopey. Well...I'd like to say I'm never Dopey...other than being cute like him, lol, but well, what else do you call it when you're telling a story and you punch YOURSELF in the eye? Yeah, I did that last night. Felt smaaaaaaaaaaaaaaart. Looked Dooooooooooopey. (Do NOT say that like "poopie." None of you are 2 anymore and besides, we don't say "poopie" at Barbie dot com.)
4. Grumpy. You could see me anytime around 3 in the afternoon. Generally Grumpy is "in" by then. If not, leave a message. Actually, if Grumpy IS "in," it might be better if you just left a message anyway.
5. Happy. I'm Happy more often than I am the others. I have two beautiful girls who love me and whom I love. I was raised by loving parents and have siblings...and we all feel the love. :)...despite my beating my brother up with just my thumb. (Hey! I'm that chef in Ratatouille! bahaha) And...well...have YOU ever been to a GP concert? If you have, you KNOW. And if you haven't ... well ... frankly ... you should have gone. I mean, really!
6. Sleepy. I stay up until midnight almost every night. I get up between 5:30 and 6:00 each morning (except weekends). So, you know, see me from around 3:00pm-5:00pm and Sleepy's right there with Grumpy.
7. Sneezy. Actually, I'm not Sneezy too often, thanks to my good doctor. However, the less Sneezy I am, the more Sleepy I am. It seems to be a trade off.
8. I'm not sure why I typed "8." I DO know there are only seven...but I DID scroll up to see who came after Sneezy. (Refer to Dwarf Number 3. It's all coming clearer now, isn't it?)
So there ya have it. I'm all Seven dwarves, rolled into one.
You'd think there'd be more of me to go around, wouldn't ya?
Oh, and one last thing: When you're googling for Dopey, don't type "Goofy" in the search field. It doesn't work. Not that I learned that through experience or anything. Anyway, they don't look the least bit alike. Although it might also be noted that I am definitely Goofy, too. Oh, and Sleezy is NOT a dwarf. And it's a good thing, because then I couldn't be all of them, rolled into one, because Sleezy is one thing I am NOT. And that would mean one less accomplishment for me.
Many thanks to Walt Disney.
Over and out. (aka: "Heigh Ho!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Heigh Ho!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, It's Off To Work We Go....)
So I looked up their names. I mean, who can be bothered to recite them from memory?? (Confession: I tried. I got Grumpy, Sleepy, and Dopey and couldn't be bothered to go any further. And I only got Grumpy and Sleepy because that's how I feel at the moment. And, well, ... Dopey? He was the cute one.) Soooooo, thanks to some help from our friends at google (again), I present you with a handy list of the dwarves: Bashful, Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, and Sneezy.
I don't know why, but I just read "Slappy" in there somewhere.
Hey! Look at that! They even alphabetized them! Geeks after my own heart.
ANYWAY, as I was saying, really, at one time or another I'm all of the dwarves. Let's look at some examples, shall we?
1. Bashful. When I handed GP a bunch of daisies during his concert, I was definitely Bashful. One can be Bashful and still act boldly. That's called BRAVERY...or sometimes FOOLISHNESS. But somewhere between that moment of bashfulness and the time I finally get to the front of the meet and greet line, I somehow become Sassy...who, I'm quite sure, is a relative of the Seven.
2. Doc. Hey, I'm a mom. For the first three years of Alli's life, I KNEW when she was doing her projectile hurling, that it was just another tooth coming. Don't be alarmed; just grab the bucket!!! See? Not just a doc, but a BRRRRILLIANT diagnostician. (Currently not taking any new patients, sorry.)
3. Dopey. Well...I'd like to say I'm never Dopey...other than being cute like him, lol, but well, what else do you call it when you're telling a story and you punch YOURSELF in the eye? Yeah, I did that last night. Felt smaaaaaaaaaaaaaaart. Looked Dooooooooooopey. (Do NOT say that like "poopie." None of you are 2 anymore and besides, we don't say "poopie" at Barbie dot com.)
4. Grumpy. You could see me anytime around 3 in the afternoon. Generally Grumpy is "in" by then. If not, leave a message. Actually, if Grumpy IS "in," it might be better if you just left a message anyway.
5. Happy. I'm Happy more often than I am the others. I have two beautiful girls who love me and whom I love. I was raised by loving parents and have siblings...and we all feel the love. :)...despite my beating my brother up with just my thumb. (Hey! I'm that chef in Ratatouille! bahaha) And...well...have YOU ever been to a GP concert? If you have, you KNOW. And if you haven't ... well ... frankly ... you should have gone. I mean, really!
6. Sleepy. I stay up until midnight almost every night. I get up between 5:30 and 6:00 each morning (except weekends). So, you know, see me from around 3:00pm-5:00pm and Sleepy's right there with Grumpy.
7. Sneezy. Actually, I'm not Sneezy too often, thanks to my good doctor. However, the less Sneezy I am, the more Sleepy I am. It seems to be a trade off.
8. I'm not sure why I typed "8." I DO know there are only seven...but I DID scroll up to see who came after Sneezy. (Refer to Dwarf Number 3. It's all coming clearer now, isn't it?)
So there ya have it. I'm all Seven dwarves, rolled into one.
You'd think there'd be more of me to go around, wouldn't ya?
Oh, and one last thing: When you're googling for Dopey, don't type "Goofy" in the search field. It doesn't work. Not that I learned that through experience or anything. Anyway, they don't look the least bit alike. Although it might also be noted that I am definitely Goofy, too. Oh, and Sleezy is NOT a dwarf. And it's a good thing, because then I couldn't be all of them, rolled into one, because Sleezy is one thing I am NOT. And that would mean one less accomplishment for me.
Many thanks to Walt Disney.
Over and out. (aka: "Heigh Ho!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Heigh Ho!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, It's Off To Work We Go....)
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Does it MEAN anything? ... and some FUNNY stuff...
Do you analyze things? I don't do it all the time but from time to time things make me stop and think, "What did THAT mean?"
For example, I pulled up to the drive-thru window at Sonic today. My cup holder was full, so as they handed me my drink, I reached down and removed a cup, and tossed it in the floorboard. No biggie, I'll get it later. No one rides over there so what will an empty cup matter. But the chick at the window says, "Can I throw something away for you?" Never in my life (and I've been to way too many drive-thru windows) have I ever had someone offer to throw something away. So it made me wonder...what did that MEAN?? Was she saying I was being a pig with all the mess in my car? Or was she really just offering to toss an empty cup for me? Hmmmmm....
Things like that occasionally catch my attention and my brain will dwell on them for a while, debating what the person meant by what they said or did.
Like a bit later in the day as I was heading into Home Depot where I discovered my fluorescent lighting in the kitchen would cost $50 bucks to put new bulbs in. I decided I'll just do things in my kitchen during daylight hours and be thankful for big windows. Who needs electric lighting anyway? But that's not the point.... As I was headed in, I passed this man who was coming out and he gave me a huge smile and a hearty, "Good Morning!" Didn't know him. No one ever speaks to me (or other strangers) coming in and out of shops these days. But this man did. So I got to thinking, "What did THAT mean??" Does it look like I just rolled out of bed and it amused the man? Was I looking happy and friendly so he just responded to the look on my face? Or was this just a friendly person passing on some goodwill? Hmmmm....
This kind of analyzing is no big deal. But I get to analyzing things that really mean something to me. And then...I think the analyzing hurts me in some ways...robs me, I guess. Like, say, a gift from a friend. Not friends I'm really close to and secure with, but say...friends that I'm a bit insecure about but really wish I had security about. Friends I tend to maybe shower attention on...but usually things don't seem quite so reciprocal. Then along comes a gift from them and what do I do? I ask myself if they're just being nice? Are they taking some sort of pity on me? Or do they really truly like me? I decide it was a wonderful act on their part, that they're nice and that they MUST really like me. And then some time goes by without hearing from them and here comes the analyzing again..."It WAS pity and being nice. It HAD to be!" And then the thoughts start going in circles again. (Kind of like this blog.) Ugh.
I'm not generally that insecure of a person....................am I? Sheesh. I should never have gone for a serious topic.
Let's move on to funny stuff. How about another Greg Page concert story, entitled, "Oh No You Di'n't!!" starring my friend, The Mamma Mia Enabler, or Kristen for short. Our story takes us back to Nashville, July 2004, at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center. Kristen and I were standing in line after what was the second of two INCREDIBLE evenings of music, starring that talented man we all love, Greg Page. We were standing in line waiting for our moment with Greg. Pictures, autographs, eye contact. ::siiiiiiiiiigh:: I'm sorry, what was I saying?....................... Oh yes! We were standing in line, waiting our turn. Finally we have one more person in front of us and it's our turn. Way too much adrenalyn at this point. Can't....take....it. I have to plan what I'll say at first because if I don't I'll just stand there with this stupid grin on my face. One that you only see on cartoon characters. You know the one. With that equally stupid nasal snortish chuckle...and maybe a bit of drool, which isn't attractive at all. So I've been planning and preparing for this moment (okay AND the one the previous night) from the moment the concert was announced, right? I've got a whole list of things in my brain and I'm ready to launch.
During that day, Kristen and I had one of our usual adventures (and I'll save that for another day), the culmination of which was a few prints of a photo I'd had taken with Greg the previous night. I wanted my copy autographed. Ok, ok, here's the picture. Most of y'all have seen it before, but it's fun, so ...
For example, I pulled up to the drive-thru window at Sonic today. My cup holder was full, so as they handed me my drink, I reached down and removed a cup, and tossed it in the floorboard. No biggie, I'll get it later. No one rides over there so what will an empty cup matter. But the chick at the window says, "Can I throw something away for you?" Never in my life (and I've been to way too many drive-thru windows) have I ever had someone offer to throw something away. So it made me wonder...what did that MEAN?? Was she saying I was being a pig with all the mess in my car? Or was she really just offering to toss an empty cup for me? Hmmmmm....
Things like that occasionally catch my attention and my brain will dwell on them for a while, debating what the person meant by what they said or did.
Like a bit later in the day as I was heading into Home Depot where I discovered my fluorescent lighting in the kitchen would cost $50 bucks to put new bulbs in. I decided I'll just do things in my kitchen during daylight hours and be thankful for big windows. Who needs electric lighting anyway? But that's not the point.... As I was headed in, I passed this man who was coming out and he gave me a huge smile and a hearty, "Good Morning!" Didn't know him. No one ever speaks to me (or other strangers) coming in and out of shops these days. But this man did. So I got to thinking, "What did THAT mean??" Does it look like I just rolled out of bed and it amused the man? Was I looking happy and friendly so he just responded to the look on my face? Or was this just a friendly person passing on some goodwill? Hmmmm....
This kind of analyzing is no big deal. But I get to analyzing things that really mean something to me. And then...I think the analyzing hurts me in some ways...robs me, I guess. Like, say, a gift from a friend. Not friends I'm really close to and secure with, but say...friends that I'm a bit insecure about but really wish I had security about. Friends I tend to maybe shower attention on...but usually things don't seem quite so reciprocal. Then along comes a gift from them and what do I do? I ask myself if they're just being nice? Are they taking some sort of pity on me? Or do they really truly like me? I decide it was a wonderful act on their part, that they're nice and that they MUST really like me. And then some time goes by without hearing from them and here comes the analyzing again..."It WAS pity and being nice. It HAD to be!" And then the thoughts start going in circles again. (Kind of like this blog.) Ugh.
I'm not generally that insecure of a person....................am I? Sheesh. I should never have gone for a serious topic.
Let's move on to funny stuff. How about another Greg Page concert story, entitled, "Oh No You Di'n't!!" starring my friend, The Mamma Mia Enabler, or Kristen for short. Our story takes us back to Nashville, July 2004, at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center. Kristen and I were standing in line after what was the second of two INCREDIBLE evenings of music, starring that talented man we all love, Greg Page. We were standing in line waiting for our moment with Greg. Pictures, autographs, eye contact. ::siiiiiiiiiigh:: I'm sorry, what was I saying?....................... Oh yes! We were standing in line, waiting our turn. Finally we have one more person in front of us and it's our turn. Way too much adrenalyn at this point. Can't....take....it. I have to plan what I'll say at first because if I don't I'll just stand there with this stupid grin on my face. One that you only see on cartoon characters. You know the one. With that equally stupid nasal snortish chuckle...and maybe a bit of drool, which isn't attractive at all. So I've been planning and preparing for this moment (okay AND the one the previous night) from the moment the concert was announced, right? I've got a whole list of things in my brain and I'm ready to launch.
During that day, Kristen and I had one of our usual adventures (and I'll save that for another day), the culmination of which was a few prints of a photo I'd had taken with Greg the previous night. I wanted my copy autographed. Ok, ok, here's the picture. Most of y'all have seen it before, but it's fun, so ...
So I'm one person away from getting up to Greg, and I open the photo envelope to double check the photos in there. Most would have told me it wasn't necessary. I would have told myself it wasn't necessary, too. But boy would I have been wrong!
Inside this photo envelope were the photos, yes, but there were OTHER photos as well. You see, I MIGHT just really enjoy my photostudio software. Maybe. It's possible. And over the previous year or so, I MIGHT have sent taunting photos to Kristen. Photos of Greg with his arms held open wide (Wiggling in concert) and a caption that says, "I love Hill THIIIIIIS much!" (Kristen and I war over him as if it were real...or we did back then...FULL SCALE war. lol) And there might have been a photo of Greg wearing a teeshirt that said "Hill ROCKS!" and bearing my image. Maybe. And there MIGHT also have been one of my family photos with my girls with a very carefully added Greg in with us....and a caption that said, "Happy Holidays from Dreamland." And there might have been several others...like ummmm...well there might have been some sort of wedding photo that someone took way too much time and attention to detail, all for the sake of the war of course, but otherwise CAREFULLY guarded. There MIGHT have been something like that, too. And...well...a few others along these lines that I can't even remember.
And what did I do upon seeing these? Well, first of all I had to pick up my eyeballs because they'd popped out of socket and rolled across the floor. Then I gasped so loud it's a wonder it didn't draw the attention I was hoping to avoid. I turned to Kristen and said, "OH NO YOU DIDN'T!!!" She was thoroughly disappointed...which only BARELY came through all the laughing she did over my discovery. She had badly wanted them to go flying out when I got right in front of Greg and had me utterly humiliated and explaining why he'd been added to the family and well there was the wedding to explain and ummmm...well...mortification.
But she's really lucky I found them when I did. VERY lucky. I'd have pummelled her senseless with my wee ineffectual fists. Then there'd have been jail time and all kinds of horrors and this story wouldn't have been half as funny. But I still got revenge. Mmmhmmm... You see this photo?
Kristen used to be just to the left of this image. But she got cut. Yup. If you look really closely at his right collar, (not the one that is on your right, HIS right), you can see a sprig of blond hair. That was Ms. Enabler's. So let this be a lesson. Don't mess with me and my GP moments, people. I'll cut you right out of the photos. So don't make me do it.
P.S. - She DID get the one with him wearing a "Hill ROCKS!" tee-shirt autographed.
Thanks for the dream, Sunshine.
I'm blaming Sunshine today for a totally whack-o dream I had last night with none other than Big G. Ok, to be honest I only blame her because SHE had a good dream about him and I went to bed wishing with all my might to have a dream about him.
The only good part was that he wore maroon and denim...not yellow and black. He was Big G the man and not Big G the Wiggle.
First, let's set the stage, though. In the past hmmmm....6 years I've had back pain. I'm almost always fine during the day but when I wake in the morning (and sometimes before I wake) I have horrible, can't-ignore-it, back pain...which makes me get out of bed, which just makes me grumpier about it all. Usually when I'm just going to bed, I have no pain and can fall asleep in complete cozy comfort and get some good hours in before "the attack."
Well last night I was getting ready to go to bed just a little past 9, which is a miracle. I haven't been to bed that early in...well...can't remember the last time. But when I got up from the sofa and started to go to get ready for bed I felt pain in my back starting to come on. It wasn't sharp but I could feel it...all around the lower end of my rib cage. I tried to do some twisty-stretches to relax it all, but that hurt like the dickens, as my Meg would say. So I popped a couple extra-strength tylenol, downed some agua and went to bed. It was hard to find a painfree position but after quite a while I got one and I froze. Ahhhhhhhhh, don't...move...a muscle. And I fell asleep hoping and praying and praying that the pain would go away.
I've been in this battle to get on top of life (and on top of my house) for...forever...and was finally feeling real excitement at the thought of a productive Saturday. I haven't felt like that for...forever, either. So I thought, go to bed at a responsible hour, which I haven't done in like...forever, either. Then get up at a decent hour and get going with my day...and just WOW myself. And my heart was feeling great heaps of thankfulness to God for feeling this way again.
Okay, so I fell asleep, thankful, and really hoping for a good dream, lol. (So sad...I want entertainment while I sleep, please...or maybe I want to live vicariously through my dreams.) Anyway...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Around 5am I woke with just too much pain. I could NOT sleep like that if I tried. So I got up. It used to be that getting up and moving around made the pain *POOF* go away. So I got up. There was no way I was planning to stay up because while I wanted to be productive, it IS Saturday and I'd like to see daylight before I dig into my day. But I got up, ran to the loo...okay, gingerly stepped to the loo...and went to the fridge for a good guzzle of cold water. And I headed back to bed, still in pain.
I struggled for some time to find a position that was painfree and ended up settling for just less pain and fell back asleep. But this time...along came the dream.
I dreamed that Big G (as Sunshine so creatively deemed him) and his family and his deceased mother in law came to visit my parents' home, where my children and I were living with my parents...both mom and my own deceased father. So at present count we have two families...only two people who have ever met (Big G and I) ... two people who are deceased ... and an extra five people who are there by association.
Now, unfortunately my deceased father never made an actual appearance, but I knew he was there. Big G and his family were just spending a day or two at the end of their vacation before heading back to Australia. And the whole time they were there, I don't think Big G and I even said "hi." I kept trying to be in the same room, near him somehow, but he never spoke. (It was much like being in high school and having a crush who never saw you.) I kept trying to do something stupid on my computer and going back to being somewhere near him. Finally it came down to the final morning they were there. They were packed up and getting ready for us to take them to the airport (which seemed a whole lot more like a bus stop, but whatever). Big G was in the bathroom showering and my parents' room was right next to it. My mom was in there with the door open brushing her teeth wearing only a teeshirt and underwear. I went in to "advise" that she shut the door or put clothes on. She informed me the "underwear" were not underwear, but her pajamas. O...kay. I had shut her door as I entered to offer my sage advise. When I opened to go out, the bathroom was vacant and Big G was on the loose. So of course I started working my way through the house and found him doing back stretches on a big bed that was in some sort of common room of the house. (Aren't you glad to be reading this? It's a gift, ain't it?) According to my dream, Big G's diagnosis hadn't been orthostatic intolerance; it had been back pain that caused the same symptoms. O...kay. So he was stretching for his health, people! He finished up and moved on to the living room where everyone was sitting and stretching. I was in pain (yeah my back was invading my dream) and just hoping to get to at least give Big G a hug before he left...to say SOMETHING. But he kept ignoring me and I was not feeling real happy about that. Then Deceased Mother-in-law offers me some of Big G's medication. She asks if I'd like some. I refused, saying how much HE needed it and how I couldn't take it. She tells me to let her know if I change my mind and she'll send me some...and winks at me. I thank her, smile, and turn to walk away. Then she tells me how he took it and was cured. I had been walking away but when she said that I stopped. No more back pain? I could go for that. So I turn and ask if it's a muscle relaxer or just a pain killer. She says it's a muscle relaxer. So I ask if I can "just have one." So she digs in her purse (and despite her shiny bleached blond bob, she becomes something very reminiscent of an old Italian grandma) and she finds the medicine. Then she finds some Dentyne gum, too and asks if I'd like some of it. I tell her no, that I already have gum in my mouth. Then she acts real fast and shoves something in my mouth. I'm thinking "what the heck was that??!," thinking she had just forced her Dentyne upon me. Then I realize she'd stuffed the pill in my mouth. What am I, a dog you have to trick a pill into??? So I go get some water to wash it down properly...and I woke up.
Never a word with Big G. Never a hug. Nothing. A total disappointment and now in pain, too.
So Sunshine, if you don't mind...could you send me a GOOD dream with Big G?? No dead people. No back pain. And no snubbing on the part of Big G.
Now I've got to go. I've got to try to move around and see if I get to breathe painfree today or not.
The only good part was that he wore maroon and denim...not yellow and black. He was Big G the man and not Big G the Wiggle.
First, let's set the stage, though. In the past hmmmm....6 years I've had back pain. I'm almost always fine during the day but when I wake in the morning (and sometimes before I wake) I have horrible, can't-ignore-it, back pain...which makes me get out of bed, which just makes me grumpier about it all. Usually when I'm just going to bed, I have no pain and can fall asleep in complete cozy comfort and get some good hours in before "the attack."
Well last night I was getting ready to go to bed just a little past 9, which is a miracle. I haven't been to bed that early in...well...can't remember the last time. But when I got up from the sofa and started to go to get ready for bed I felt pain in my back starting to come on. It wasn't sharp but I could feel it...all around the lower end of my rib cage. I tried to do some twisty-stretches to relax it all, but that hurt like the dickens, as my Meg would say. So I popped a couple extra-strength tylenol, downed some agua and went to bed. It was hard to find a painfree position but after quite a while I got one and I froze. Ahhhhhhhhh, don't...move...a muscle. And I fell asleep hoping and praying and praying that the pain would go away.
I've been in this battle to get on top of life (and on top of my house) for...forever...and was finally feeling real excitement at the thought of a productive Saturday. I haven't felt like that for...forever, either. So I thought, go to bed at a responsible hour, which I haven't done in like...forever, either. Then get up at a decent hour and get going with my day...and just WOW myself. And my heart was feeling great heaps of thankfulness to God for feeling this way again.
Okay, so I fell asleep, thankful, and really hoping for a good dream, lol. (So sad...I want entertainment while I sleep, please...or maybe I want to live vicariously through my dreams.) Anyway...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Around 5am I woke with just too much pain. I could NOT sleep like that if I tried. So I got up. It used to be that getting up and moving around made the pain *POOF* go away. So I got up. There was no way I was planning to stay up because while I wanted to be productive, it IS Saturday and I'd like to see daylight before I dig into my day. But I got up, ran to the loo...okay, gingerly stepped to the loo...and went to the fridge for a good guzzle of cold water. And I headed back to bed, still in pain.
I struggled for some time to find a position that was painfree and ended up settling for just less pain and fell back asleep. But this time...along came the dream.
I dreamed that Big G (as Sunshine so creatively deemed him) and his family and his deceased mother in law came to visit my parents' home, where my children and I were living with my parents...both mom and my own deceased father. So at present count we have two families...only two people who have ever met (Big G and I) ... two people who are deceased ... and an extra five people who are there by association.
Now, unfortunately my deceased father never made an actual appearance, but I knew he was there. Big G and his family were just spending a day or two at the end of their vacation before heading back to Australia. And the whole time they were there, I don't think Big G and I even said "hi." I kept trying to be in the same room, near him somehow, but he never spoke. (It was much like being in high school and having a crush who never saw you.) I kept trying to do something stupid on my computer and going back to being somewhere near him. Finally it came down to the final morning they were there. They were packed up and getting ready for us to take them to the airport (which seemed a whole lot more like a bus stop, but whatever). Big G was in the bathroom showering and my parents' room was right next to it. My mom was in there with the door open brushing her teeth wearing only a teeshirt and underwear. I went in to "advise" that she shut the door or put clothes on. She informed me the "underwear" were not underwear, but her pajamas. O...kay. I had shut her door as I entered to offer my sage advise. When I opened to go out, the bathroom was vacant and Big G was on the loose. So of course I started working my way through the house and found him doing back stretches on a big bed that was in some sort of common room of the house. (Aren't you glad to be reading this? It's a gift, ain't it?) According to my dream, Big G's diagnosis hadn't been orthostatic intolerance; it had been back pain that caused the same symptoms. O...kay. So he was stretching for his health, people! He finished up and moved on to the living room where everyone was sitting and stretching. I was in pain (yeah my back was invading my dream) and just hoping to get to at least give Big G a hug before he left...to say SOMETHING. But he kept ignoring me and I was not feeling real happy about that. Then Deceased Mother-in-law offers me some of Big G's medication. She asks if I'd like some. I refused, saying how much HE needed it and how I couldn't take it. She tells me to let her know if I change my mind and she'll send me some...and winks at me. I thank her, smile, and turn to walk away. Then she tells me how he took it and was cured. I had been walking away but when she said that I stopped. No more back pain? I could go for that. So I turn and ask if it's a muscle relaxer or just a pain killer. She says it's a muscle relaxer. So I ask if I can "just have one." So she digs in her purse (and despite her shiny bleached blond bob, she becomes something very reminiscent of an old Italian grandma) and she finds the medicine. Then she finds some Dentyne gum, too and asks if I'd like some of it. I tell her no, that I already have gum in my mouth. Then she acts real fast and shoves something in my mouth. I'm thinking "what the heck was that??!," thinking she had just forced her Dentyne upon me. Then I realize she'd stuffed the pill in my mouth. What am I, a dog you have to trick a pill into??? So I go get some water to wash it down properly...and I woke up.
Never a word with Big G. Never a hug. Nothing. A total disappointment and now in pain, too.
So Sunshine, if you don't mind...could you send me a GOOD dream with Big G?? No dead people. No back pain. And no snubbing on the part of Big G.
Now I've got to go. I've got to try to move around and see if I get to breathe painfree today or not.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Alrighty-Roo
I wasn't sure what I was going to blog about this evening, and then I was looking for a video on YouTube of Elvis singing "I've Lost You." (Someone read my ditty and said they didn't know the original so I was researching.) The video was a slideshow that some fan made to his song. A minute or so into it, along came some shots of him in his Vegas-y jumpsuits. You know, the ones that open down to the waist? Yeah, those. Well those photos reminded me of a kick my girls (and Sunshine, bahaha, sorry, just kidding or am I?) are on right now. Are you scared?
They are on this kick right now where they are VERY amused by the fact that men have (or should have) hairy chests. It's not exactly news to them, but they just think it's about the funniest thing ever. Well, we were listening to the "Mamma Mia" Soundtrack and track number 5 began to play. (Yeah I got the numbers down, wooo!) Track number five is "Our Last Summer" and at the end, Sophie sings "And now you're working in a bank, a family man, a football fan, and your name is Harry." The girls have heard this for weeks, but the other night they said, "His name's HARRY?" (giggle, giggle) And then Megan reaches down, says,
"Get it?" ::pantomimes ripping her shirt open and thrusts her chest out:: "HAIRY??" And they laughed hysterically.
Ok, really it was me pantomiming. Wait no. No it was really her. But I was DEFINITELY in on the hysterical laughing. For different reasons than them, (I was laughing at THEM; THEY were laughing at hairy chests! LOL) but still laughing!
Whilst (I like saying that word, whilst, whilst, whilst) I'm here...and talking about things that make me laugh hysterically... (one day I'll talk about something that's really in my heart but right now the hysterical laughter thing is working for me)... WHILST I'm here, etc., I'd like to share yet another YouTube video, that quite frankly, could make the sourest person roll on the floor (It's TOTALLY worth spelling ROFL out...THAT funny!)
Ok, I just went looking for it and YouTube has discontinued it, BUT I found it on another site, thanks to our friends at Google. So I guess it's not really a YouTube video now, is it? Anyway, you won't recognize a word of it, unless you're fluent in Finland-ese. (Finnish?? What DO they speak??) But you will know the song and ... well ... just trust me ... and watch the whole thing. Laughter is a good aerobic activity!
And just for the record, the charm of this video is totally unrelated to the fact that the man's name is GREGorius and he's wearing a yellow shirt and black shorts. Really. It doesn't. No I'm serious. That wasn't sarcasm. Go watch the video.
http://www.kewego.com/video/iLyROoaftOcC.html
You can thank me later. :D
They are on this kick right now where they are VERY amused by the fact that men have (or should have) hairy chests. It's not exactly news to them, but they just think it's about the funniest thing ever. Well, we were listening to the "Mamma Mia" Soundtrack and track number 5 began to play. (Yeah I got the numbers down, wooo!) Track number five is "Our Last Summer" and at the end, Sophie sings "And now you're working in a bank, a family man, a football fan, and your name is Harry." The girls have heard this for weeks, but the other night they said, "His name's HARRY?" (giggle, giggle) And then Megan reaches down, says,
"Get it?" ::pantomimes ripping her shirt open and thrusts her chest out:: "HAIRY??" And they laughed hysterically.
Ok, really it was me pantomiming. Wait no. No it was really her. But I was DEFINITELY in on the hysterical laughing. For different reasons than them, (I was laughing at THEM; THEY were laughing at hairy chests! LOL) but still laughing!
Whilst (I like saying that word, whilst, whilst, whilst) I'm here...and talking about things that make me laugh hysterically... (one day I'll talk about something that's really in my heart but right now the hysterical laughter thing is working for me)... WHILST I'm here, etc., I'd like to share yet another YouTube video, that quite frankly, could make the sourest person roll on the floor (It's TOTALLY worth spelling ROFL out...THAT funny!)
Ok, I just went looking for it and YouTube has discontinued it, BUT I found it on another site, thanks to our friends at Google. So I guess it's not really a YouTube video now, is it? Anyway, you won't recognize a word of it, unless you're fluent in Finland-ese. (Finnish?? What DO they speak??) But you will know the song and ... well ... just trust me ... and watch the whole thing. Laughter is a good aerobic activity!
And just for the record, the charm of this video is totally unrelated to the fact that the man's name is GREGorius and he's wearing a yellow shirt and black shorts. Really. It doesn't. No I'm serious. That wasn't sarcasm. Go watch the video.
http://www.kewego.com/video/iLyROoaftOcC.html
You can thank me later. :D
Ditty Time
Well, this is NOT "Mamma Mia," but my thoughts got derailed before I sat down with lyrics to any of the songs of "Mamma Mia." This idea suddenly came to me, so I sat down and just wrote it out.
It amused me. (Yay! I'm my own entertainment!! I wonder if I can get my own autograph, hardy har har.)
Well here it is. It's entitled:
“I've Lost It”
To the tune of “I've Lost You” (Think Elvis...or better yet, think Greg! He used to have it as a demo on his site. Just enough to leave us begging.)
Entering the room I can't remember
The reason I got up and came this way.
Seems like more and more I start conversing
With no idea what I'd thought to say.
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Who can tell me where I parked my caaar?
And who can tell me where I laid my phone?
Once my mind was sharp, I had no proooblems
But now it seems I'm in the Twilight Zone.
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Ten o'clock, my tummy will be groooowling
And with good cause. Whoops! I forgot to eat!
Made a list of things I must remember
If I could find it, that would be so sweet!
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
It amused me. (Yay! I'm my own entertainment!! I wonder if I can get my own autograph, hardy har har.)
Well here it is. It's entitled:
“I've Lost It”
To the tune of “I've Lost You” (Think Elvis...or better yet, think Greg! He used to have it as a demo on his site. Just enough to leave us begging.)
Entering the room I can't remember
The reason I got up and came this way.
Seems like more and more I start conversing
With no idea what I'd thought to say.
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Who can tell me where I parked my caaar?
And who can tell me where I laid my phone?
Once my mind was sharp, I had no proooblems
But now it seems I'm in the Twilight Zone.
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Ten o'clock, my tummy will be groooowling
And with good cause. Whoops! I forgot to eat!
Made a list of things I must remember
If I could find it, that would be so sweet!
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
Ohhh I've lost it yes I've lost it.
I can't think straight anymore
I don't know what was for breakfast
and I get lost at the grocery stooore...
CURSE YOU AQUA what???
I know, I know, I've threatened with ditties, but tonight's blog is dedicated to a little "happening" in our house this afternoon.
It went something like this...
I sent the girls into the living room to clean up the uhhhh fallout from the weekend. (Imagine Pollys and Lincoln Logs, etc., all over the place.) Alli went in and plopped down to dig into the mess. She immediately starts howling. My first thought is that she'd hurt one of her feet that she opened a door onto earlier today, which ripped some skin off and turned it some pretty colors. But I wasn't considering her ummm tendency to be a teeny weeny heckuva lot dramatic. She reaches beneath one of her feet and holds up for inspection one of the smaller Lincoln Logs. Then suddenly she bellows...yes, I said BELLOWS...as she shakes the log in the air...
"CURSE YOU, AQUA SCOTT!!!" Bahahaha. (This isn't her first time saying that, but it kills me when she does. Maybe I'm easily amused.)
Megan and I can't help ourselves, and we tell her, "It's 'Curse you, Aqua SCUM.'"
"WHO CARES!!" (Yes, more bellowing.)
So I poke my head around the corner (I'd already left the howler and gone into the kitchen) and I said, "Apparently WE care."
A minute later she comes into the kitchen with the Lincoln Log and says, "I'm gonna punish you, Aqua Scott." And she took it and threw it up against the wall.
Just a teeny weeny heckuva lot dramatic.
C'est la vie chez Hillary.
...now I'll go and see about one of those ditties.... I's gots an idea.
P.S. - "Curse you, Aqua Scum!" is a line from Nemo. Shame on those of you who don't know.
It went something like this...
I sent the girls into the living room to clean up the uhhhh fallout from the weekend. (Imagine Pollys and Lincoln Logs, etc., all over the place.) Alli went in and plopped down to dig into the mess. She immediately starts howling. My first thought is that she'd hurt one of her feet that she opened a door onto earlier today, which ripped some skin off and turned it some pretty colors. But I wasn't considering her ummm tendency to be a teeny weeny heckuva lot dramatic. She reaches beneath one of her feet and holds up for inspection one of the smaller Lincoln Logs. Then suddenly she bellows...yes, I said BELLOWS...as she shakes the log in the air...
"CURSE YOU, AQUA SCOTT!!!" Bahahaha. (This isn't her first time saying that, but it kills me when she does. Maybe I'm easily amused.)
Megan and I can't help ourselves, and we tell her, "It's 'Curse you, Aqua SCUM.'"
"WHO CARES!!" (Yes, more bellowing.)
So I poke my head around the corner (I'd already left the howler and gone into the kitchen) and I said, "Apparently WE care."
A minute later she comes into the kitchen with the Lincoln Log and says, "I'm gonna punish you, Aqua Scott." And she took it and threw it up against the wall.
Just a teeny weeny heckuva lot dramatic.
C'est la vie chez Hillary.
...now I'll go and see about one of those ditties.... I's gots an idea.
P.S. - "Curse you, Aqua Scum!" is a line from Nemo. Shame on those of you who don't know.
Monday, September 15, 2008
A Great Childhood Love
Ahhh the things I loved as a child. There was Winnie the Pooh. There was The Muppet Show. A little later on there was Scott Baio, lol. There was a friend of my aunt's named Jimmy Lowe, who I named a wide assortment of stuffed animals after, yet I can't remember his face. Yes those animals had to go by both the first AND last names...including that purple pig.
Let's see. Hmmmm.... What else did I love as a child? Well...there were fudgesicles, peanut butter fudge, macaroni and cheese, Hidden Valley Ranch Salad Dressing, and Nacho Cheese Doritos (which are VERY hard to sneak when you're four years old and not a master of crinkly chip bags). There were the chimneys on all of my mom's gingerbread houses. Hmmm, now I wonder where they went? There were my sister's high heel shoes. What were they called? Candies? There was Happy Days and Laverne and Shirley and DEFINITELY the Woody Woodpecker Show. There was standing over an air vent in a dress and watching the skirt puff out like a parachute...and it being considered "cute." There was our dog, Tippie....and my doll, Chubby. Oh! Oh! Oh! And don't forget my RUB-A-DUB DOLLY!! AAAUUUGGGHHH!!!And there was peeling the wallpaper off the wall when Mom stood me in the corner. The list could go on and on. But last night, I remembered something I LOVED as a very small child. And it will show me to be the odd dork you all know me to be. So of course I HAVE to share it.
When I was really little...well...about this big...
(This was the moment I unveiled my Rub-a-Dub Dolly, lol.)
...just a "tot" as Alli would say, my mom took us to this horrible babysitter named "Lorraine." When Mom learned how awful she was to us, she got us out as quickly as she could, but it took a while for her true colors to show. I hated going there. I didn't like being confined to the laundry room...even if my brother was right there with me. I didn't like that my sister was in the front of the house with the bigger kids. There were lots of things I didn't find to my liking, but that was life for a while.
BUT there was one pleasant thing about going to Lorraine's. For a while, the radio station we listened to (which HAD to have been WDAF/61 Country because my uncle worked there and Mom listened to it)...for a while the station would play the same song every morning. I remember the anticipation waiting for it to come on each morning. And when it did, I remember hoping that we'd have enough time to hear the whole thing before we had to get out of the car. I LOVED this song. I still "feel" the happy feelings I had when I'd hear it play. I thought it was the most hilarious thing ever.
And last night...I found it on YouTube. It might be better to listen to with your eyes closed and not looking at the cartoon. I couldn't figure out how to put a YouTube video in here, so here's the link..so as to give credit where credit is due (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqdy8x9jMGk). You MUST listen to it. It will enrich your life.
I LOVE SNEAKY SNAKE!! And that silly snake can have ALL my root beer because root bear stinks to high heaven and tastes even worse. And I LOVE that sneaky snake is ticklish. Ahhhh Sneaky Snake ......
Those were the days....
(I suddenly feel the impulse to burst out with Colin Firth in "Our Last Summer" which has nothing to do with Sneaky Snake...but then...well...you know..."those were the days"/"our last summer"...it's not without ANY logic.)
Sunday, September 14, 2008
My Dad
Today is September 14th. Two years ago today, my dad's struggle with cancer ended and he went to be with the Lord. Two weeks from today he would be turning 66 years old. He died way too soon.
He chose to be my mom's husband and a father to my brother, sister, and me 32 years ago. Notice the word "chose." It's important. Some folks feel like they got "stuck" with a step-parent. But I feel pretty humbled that I was chosen.
I only came up to about mid-thigh on him back then and I was fairly leary of the giant who had invaded our lives. Meanwhile my brother and sister climbed all over him like they were monkeys and he was a tree. I don't remember when he won me over, but he did.
I remember great times, like watching "Popeye" cartoons together when he got home from the night shift and mom had taken off for work.
I remember waking him up after "The Don Ho Show" so he could make my lunch and get me on the bus for kindergarten.
I remember him bringing home baby skunks he'd found on the roadside. There was a lesson in that. PU!!!!!!!!!!!
I remember he broke me of lying. His "rod" of choice? His tennis shoe. To the last year he lived, if something I said sounded outlandish, he'd ask, "Do I need to get my shoe?" lol
And how every time he passed my empty room with the light on, he'd flip it off and call out, "Fifty cents!"
I remember one year when he brought home a Winnie the Pooh birthday cake...FROM A BAKERY ::jaw dropping::...which was unheard of because Mom made all our birthday cakes and did a great job at them. But he saw a Winnie the Pooh cake...and he knew that there was nothing greater on earth to me than Winnie the Pooh, so he brought it home.
I remember coming home from my biological dad's house, sick as a dog because I was homesick, and crawling into Dad's lap in a big rocking chair and feeling so much comfort. I was home.
I remember him calling me "Scott" when I got my hair cut short. :( (Ok, I laughed.)
I remember him hiding my bubble gum in my taco at dinner one night. That was so nasty I bawled my eyes out. LOL
I remember the summer before eighth grade when our family was moving. He and I spent the first week in the new house, while Mom and my siblings finished things up at the old house. He slept on the trundle bed in my room because I was a 'fraidy cat and didn't want to be alone.
I remember him playing and rocking our foster babies and him laughing at Ewok movies and seeing him at my cross country races.
And a couple years later when I experienced the dreadful act of a peeping tom, he let me sleep with him (sorry for kicking you out, Mom...and thank you!) because I was so scared and shaken and needed to be near someone big and strong.
I remember when he walked me down the aisle when I got married. He looked so sharp in that tux!
I remember when he came to see my first newborn and held her in his arms.
I remember pictures of him making snow-angels so Mom could send photos of them to all the grand-kids.
And I remember when my marriage fell apart, how he helped me and my girls leave an abusive situation and live under his roof. I remember all the extra snack cakes and spaghettios and extra-double-creamy chocolate milk and all my favorite things he bought IN BULK to try to put some weight back on my bones. And without being high-handed or naggy, he'd peek in the pantry and see that there hadn't been much eaten and he'd gently and with a funny grin make some comments about me eating more.
I remember him grabbing up my girlies' pom-poms and cheering, "Cecil, Cecil, he's our man! If he can't do it, NO ONE CAN! Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, CECIL!!" And I remember him wrestling the girls around and them laughing and climbing on him just like my brother and sister did 32 years ago.
And I remember when I flew back for my first custody hearing. I was so scared of losing my girls...and facing my ex. I wanted so badly to hear the judge tell me I could take my girls and go back to Arizona with my dad and rebuild my life. But that didn't happen. The judge ordered me to return to Florida...and that I couldn't even take the girls back with me long enough to pack and return. I was stuck immediately. I was shattered. My dad was waiting in the hallway in case he was called as a witness. I remember walking out of that court room and seeing him standing there in front of this HUGE window and I went to him and sobbed. He stood there, holding me, like the pillar that he was.
I remember my mom telling me about his return trip after that, how he cried at leaving us behind.
I remember visiting him two months before he was diagnosed. I was posting a silly thread on the Wiggles Message Board...asking Greg all kinds of questions. He was in bed and would call out questions for me to post, like "What's up, Doc?" and others I can't remember but that made me laugh.
I remember sitting with him just a few months later as he drew a diagram to tell me about his tumor and the treatment options he'd been told. And I remember going to the doctor's appointment with him and mom and my sister and listening to what the road ahead was going to be like for him.
I remember a LOT of phone calls throughout that next year...funny ones...and as time wore on, heartbreaking ones.
I remember visiting him for the last time. I spent a week helping him lower his feet to the ground and putting on his slippers when he needed to get up and go to the bathroom, and raising his legs again and settling his pillows and blankets around him to settle him back into a comfortable position on the sofa. I remember helping him lay down on his bed...and helping him roll because he couldn't without help. And I remember what a balm it was to my soul to help him in the tiniest ways. I remember enticing him with popcorn, lol, because very little appealed to him and he was so thin.
I remember the morning we drove away. I knew I wouldn't see him alive again and wanted so badly to say my goodbye. But Dad wasn't ready. He still wanted to fight and didn't realize (or wouldn't let us know) that the fight was over.
I remember when he called just a couple days before he died, to tell me that he was dying. He said he didn't know what the Lord was waiting for. He was ready.
And I remember the day he died. I talked to him on the phone. I told him I loved him and would miss him. I told him that I saw Jesus in him. He said that he hoped so, and I assured him that it was so. It wasn't a long conversation. He didn't have much strength left. But I got my goodbye.
A man of God with quiet strength, gentle wisdom, and a hilarious wit...that's who my dad was. And I'm so thankful that God brought him into our lives. He was a blessing and I'm so grateful.
Here are just a few shots of him I have on my computer.
Dad, aka Pappaw, and Megan reading "A Wocket in My Pocket" with Dad's "son," lol, Javier, sitting on his knee.
Another of Dad, Meg, and Javier, lol. (Dad was SOOO not the lap dog type...or so we thought. Then along came Javier....)
Dad and my nephew having fun.
I love this photo. I need to get a big print of it and frame it. It's like a farewell. I used it as the closing photo of the slideshow I made for his memorial service.
So long for now, Dad. Rest in Peace.
He chose to be my mom's husband and a father to my brother, sister, and me 32 years ago. Notice the word "chose." It's important. Some folks feel like they got "stuck" with a step-parent. But I feel pretty humbled that I was chosen.
I only came up to about mid-thigh on him back then and I was fairly leary of the giant who had invaded our lives. Meanwhile my brother and sister climbed all over him like they were monkeys and he was a tree. I don't remember when he won me over, but he did.
I remember great times, like watching "Popeye" cartoons together when he got home from the night shift and mom had taken off for work.
I remember waking him up after "The Don Ho Show" so he could make my lunch and get me on the bus for kindergarten.
I remember him bringing home baby skunks he'd found on the roadside. There was a lesson in that. PU!!!!!!!!!!!
I remember he broke me of lying. His "rod" of choice? His tennis shoe. To the last year he lived, if something I said sounded outlandish, he'd ask, "Do I need to get my shoe?" lol
And how every time he passed my empty room with the light on, he'd flip it off and call out, "Fifty cents!"
I remember one year when he brought home a Winnie the Pooh birthday cake...FROM A BAKERY ::jaw dropping::...which was unheard of because Mom made all our birthday cakes and did a great job at them. But he saw a Winnie the Pooh cake...and he knew that there was nothing greater on earth to me than Winnie the Pooh, so he brought it home.
I remember coming home from my biological dad's house, sick as a dog because I was homesick, and crawling into Dad's lap in a big rocking chair and feeling so much comfort. I was home.
I remember him calling me "Scott" when I got my hair cut short. :( (Ok, I laughed.)
I remember him hiding my bubble gum in my taco at dinner one night. That was so nasty I bawled my eyes out. LOL
I remember the summer before eighth grade when our family was moving. He and I spent the first week in the new house, while Mom and my siblings finished things up at the old house. He slept on the trundle bed in my room because I was a 'fraidy cat and didn't want to be alone.
I remember him playing and rocking our foster babies and him laughing at Ewok movies and seeing him at my cross country races.
And a couple years later when I experienced the dreadful act of a peeping tom, he let me sleep with him (sorry for kicking you out, Mom...and thank you!) because I was so scared and shaken and needed to be near someone big and strong.
I remember when he walked me down the aisle when I got married. He looked so sharp in that tux!
I remember when he came to see my first newborn and held her in his arms.
I remember pictures of him making snow-angels so Mom could send photos of them to all the grand-kids.
And I remember when my marriage fell apart, how he helped me and my girls leave an abusive situation and live under his roof. I remember all the extra snack cakes and spaghettios and extra-double-creamy chocolate milk and all my favorite things he bought IN BULK to try to put some weight back on my bones. And without being high-handed or naggy, he'd peek in the pantry and see that there hadn't been much eaten and he'd gently and with a funny grin make some comments about me eating more.
I remember him grabbing up my girlies' pom-poms and cheering, "Cecil, Cecil, he's our man! If he can't do it, NO ONE CAN! Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, CECIL!!" And I remember him wrestling the girls around and them laughing and climbing on him just like my brother and sister did 32 years ago.
And I remember when I flew back for my first custody hearing. I was so scared of losing my girls...and facing my ex. I wanted so badly to hear the judge tell me I could take my girls and go back to Arizona with my dad and rebuild my life. But that didn't happen. The judge ordered me to return to Florida...and that I couldn't even take the girls back with me long enough to pack and return. I was stuck immediately. I was shattered. My dad was waiting in the hallway in case he was called as a witness. I remember walking out of that court room and seeing him standing there in front of this HUGE window and I went to him and sobbed. He stood there, holding me, like the pillar that he was.
I remember my mom telling me about his return trip after that, how he cried at leaving us behind.
I remember visiting him two months before he was diagnosed. I was posting a silly thread on the Wiggles Message Board...asking Greg all kinds of questions. He was in bed and would call out questions for me to post, like "What's up, Doc?" and others I can't remember but that made me laugh.
I remember sitting with him just a few months later as he drew a diagram to tell me about his tumor and the treatment options he'd been told. And I remember going to the doctor's appointment with him and mom and my sister and listening to what the road ahead was going to be like for him.
I remember a LOT of phone calls throughout that next year...funny ones...and as time wore on, heartbreaking ones.
I remember visiting him for the last time. I spent a week helping him lower his feet to the ground and putting on his slippers when he needed to get up and go to the bathroom, and raising his legs again and settling his pillows and blankets around him to settle him back into a comfortable position on the sofa. I remember helping him lay down on his bed...and helping him roll because he couldn't without help. And I remember what a balm it was to my soul to help him in the tiniest ways. I remember enticing him with popcorn, lol, because very little appealed to him and he was so thin.
I remember the morning we drove away. I knew I wouldn't see him alive again and wanted so badly to say my goodbye. But Dad wasn't ready. He still wanted to fight and didn't realize (or wouldn't let us know) that the fight was over.
I remember when he called just a couple days before he died, to tell me that he was dying. He said he didn't know what the Lord was waiting for. He was ready.
And I remember the day he died. I talked to him on the phone. I told him I loved him and would miss him. I told him that I saw Jesus in him. He said that he hoped so, and I assured him that it was so. It wasn't a long conversation. He didn't have much strength left. But I got my goodbye.
A man of God with quiet strength, gentle wisdom, and a hilarious wit...that's who my dad was. And I'm so thankful that God brought him into our lives. He was a blessing and I'm so grateful.
Here are just a few shots of him I have on my computer.
Dad, aka Pappaw, and Megan reading "A Wocket in My Pocket" with Dad's "son," lol, Javier, sitting on his knee.
Another of Dad, Meg, and Javier, lol. (Dad was SOOO not the lap dog type...or so we thought. Then along came Javier....) Dad and my nephew having fun. I love this photo. I need to get a big print of it and frame it. It's like a farewell. I used it as the closing photo of the slideshow I made for his memorial service.So long for now, Dad. Rest in Peace.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Redefining Shame and Mortification
So you think you know shame? Acquainted with mortification, are ya? Come take a stroll with me as I redefine these words.
This is yet another story that involves my good friend, Kristen. You know...my Mamma Mia enabler??? Yeah, that one. Only this time.....she's not to blame.
Before I can redefine shame and mortification for you, you need to know Kristen. Or at least need to know a bit about her. You see, Kristen and I talk on the phone every day...multiple times. In fact, if she doesn't catch up with me on a given day, she nearly sends out a search party to find out what's happened to me. She's that kind of friend. One you love and who loves you and...well...you know...a keeper.
And you know, our conversations are just the norm...
"Bark!"
"Bark!"
"When are we going to stop doing that?"
"I don't know...when we find something better?"
"Okay."
(What? That's not a normal conversation?? Well then, the rest of the world is really missing out.)
Ok... that was a little off the subject. Here's the conversation I was thinking of...
Me: Hey, whatcha doin'?
K: Mopping my kitchen.
Me: But...you mopped it yesterday.
K: I know. I mop it everyday.
Me: Alrighty then.
---
Me: Hey, whatcha up to?
K: Steaming the playroom carpet.
Me: But...you just steamed it a couple days ago.
K: I know, but it needs it.
Me: Alrighty then.
---
Me: So, what's goin' on?
K: Cleaning the bathrooms.
Me: But...you...oh nevermind.
K: Hang on, you're going to hear a flush. I'm NOT using the bathroom, I just cleaned the toilet. ::flush::
Me: Alrighty then.
---
Me: Hey, what are you going to do tonight?
K: ::insert your favorite cleaning task::
Me: Again??
K: Hey, I've got four kids!! I've GOT to!
Me: Alrighty then.
---
You get the idea, right? Here's the Cliff's Notes: Kristen cleans A LOT...almost all the time. Seriously. Now that you've got this glimpse of her, prepare for the redefinition of shame and mortification.
Let's back track in time a bit...about four years, I'd guess...maybe three. And let's see, that was two "houses" ago...in my condo, to be exact. I had set up an appointment with some financial advising/planning people and it had been last-minute. I hurried home, forgetting what a mess I'd left my kitchen in. And my kitchen was the entry-way to my condo. So, I know these two squeaky clean men are coming into my house to let me know what they've come up with with my numbers. That's embarrassing enough. And now I have this horror of a kitchen to get "clean" in just a few minutes time. I filled the dishwasher with dirty dishes and still had a few plates and pans. In a panic, I opened the oven and shoved them in. Whew!! A few minutes later the men came. We sat down, went over the numbers, etc., etc., and they left, and I got on with my afternoon.
That was in April. Now fast-forward to the middle of July. Kristen, her hubby (who's a neat-freak, there's just no other way to put it), and her four little girls come to spend a week with my girls and I in our condo. We were much like sardines in a can, but we had so much fun. But I'm a little nervous. I'm soooo laid back and she NEVER heard me answer her question of "Whatcha doin'?" with "cleaning." That's not to say I never clean, but really, sometimes, it's hard to tell.
Anyway, the big day comes and they arrive ready for a week of fun in the Florida sun. Either that night or the next day, she goes into the kitchen to make something. She opens the oven door and..........................I don't know if I can say it..........................................she finds these plates and pans that have been in there since April. And they were stuck together with syrup.
Do I HAVE to go on? Is that NOT shame and mortificiation in action????
It was hard to explain, lol.
Maybe I should have just barked.
Yes, they still give me grief about it. However, I can just return fire with "At least I don't leave used baby diapers under my friends' couches for their dogs to find and eat!!! ::gag::heave::gag::cough::spew::gag::
P.S. - I don't really bake a lot.
This is yet another story that involves my good friend, Kristen. You know...my Mamma Mia enabler??? Yeah, that one. Only this time.....she's not to blame.
Before I can redefine shame and mortification for you, you need to know Kristen. Or at least need to know a bit about her. You see, Kristen and I talk on the phone every day...multiple times. In fact, if she doesn't catch up with me on a given day, she nearly sends out a search party to find out what's happened to me. She's that kind of friend. One you love and who loves you and...well...you know...a keeper.
And you know, our conversations are just the norm...
"Bark!"
"Bark!"
"When are we going to stop doing that?"
"I don't know...when we find something better?"
"Okay."
(What? That's not a normal conversation?? Well then, the rest of the world is really missing out.)
Ok... that was a little off the subject. Here's the conversation I was thinking of...
Me: Hey, whatcha doin'?
K: Mopping my kitchen.
Me: But...you mopped it yesterday.
K: I know. I mop it everyday.
Me: Alrighty then.
---
Me: Hey, whatcha up to?
K: Steaming the playroom carpet.
Me: But...you just steamed it a couple days ago.
K: I know, but it needs it.
Me: Alrighty then.
---
Me: So, what's goin' on?
K: Cleaning the bathrooms.
Me: But...you...oh nevermind.
K: Hang on, you're going to hear a flush. I'm NOT using the bathroom, I just cleaned the toilet. ::flush::
Me: Alrighty then.
---
Me: Hey, what are you going to do tonight?
K: ::insert your favorite cleaning task::
Me: Again??
K: Hey, I've got four kids!! I've GOT to!
Me: Alrighty then.
---
You get the idea, right? Here's the Cliff's Notes: Kristen cleans A LOT...almost all the time. Seriously. Now that you've got this glimpse of her, prepare for the redefinition of shame and mortification.
Let's back track in time a bit...about four years, I'd guess...maybe three. And let's see, that was two "houses" ago...in my condo, to be exact. I had set up an appointment with some financial advising/planning people and it had been last-minute. I hurried home, forgetting what a mess I'd left my kitchen in. And my kitchen was the entry-way to my condo. So, I know these two squeaky clean men are coming into my house to let me know what they've come up with with my numbers. That's embarrassing enough. And now I have this horror of a kitchen to get "clean" in just a few minutes time. I filled the dishwasher with dirty dishes and still had a few plates and pans. In a panic, I opened the oven and shoved them in. Whew!! A few minutes later the men came. We sat down, went over the numbers, etc., etc., and they left, and I got on with my afternoon.
That was in April. Now fast-forward to the middle of July. Kristen, her hubby (who's a neat-freak, there's just no other way to put it), and her four little girls come to spend a week with my girls and I in our condo. We were much like sardines in a can, but we had so much fun. But I'm a little nervous. I'm soooo laid back and she NEVER heard me answer her question of "Whatcha doin'?" with "cleaning." That's not to say I never clean, but really, sometimes, it's hard to tell.
Anyway, the big day comes and they arrive ready for a week of fun in the Florida sun. Either that night or the next day, she goes into the kitchen to make something. She opens the oven door and..........................I don't know if I can say it..........................................she finds these plates and pans that have been in there since April. And they were stuck together with syrup.
Do I HAVE to go on? Is that NOT shame and mortificiation in action????
It was hard to explain, lol.
Maybe I should have just barked.
Yes, they still give me grief about it. However, I can just return fire with "At least I don't leave used baby diapers under my friends' couches for their dogs to find and eat!!! ::gag::heave::gag::cough::spew::gag::
P.S. - I don't really bake a lot.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Want to Laugh?
We all love to laugh, right? Well, if you're in the mood, you MUST mosey over to hoopsandyoyo.com (should be a link in my right pane).
A few years ago, my good buddy Kristen sent my girls an e-card for Valentine's day. It was from hoopsandyoyo. We watched and well...it was love at first sight. Lots of great laughs on their home pages and their e-cards and their blog and their newsletters. If you take the time to watch their homepages, then you've got an evening of entertainment right there. (Just click on "animations" in their side column, sit back, get comfy, and get ready to laugh!)
But it's not just laughs that make them great. They are gooooooooooood people. We've met them about three years ago. How? Well here's the story.
Shortly after discovering these guys, I started sending their ecards to my dad as often as I could. He found them very entertaining so I sent them to him often, to give him a smile. (That was back when he was fighting cancer.) Well, somewhere in there, I decided to write to hoops and yoyo and thank them for all the laughs, and I explained how much it meant to me to have something to cheer my dad during his illness.
They wrote me back and, long story short, they ended up making a special custom, audio recording for my dad and about my dad. (They asked me for info about him.) It meant a lot to him, and to my mom, and to me, too. And it made us all laugh.
I'm tellin' ya, gooooooooooooood people. And sometime later, we were in Kansas City, where hoops and yoyo live, and we got to go see them, take a tour of their place, sit in the studio while they recorded some stuff, and we got to get in on some recording, too! They even gave us sneak previews on a couple of the e-cards they were working on at the time. Simply put, these guys ROCK!
Anyway, their humor is great, and their hearts are even greater.
So what are you waiting for? Go over and see them...but be ready to laugh.
(By the way...forgive my writing this evening. My girls are watching "The Love Bug" and it's....distracting.)
A few years ago, my good buddy Kristen sent my girls an e-card for Valentine's day. It was from hoopsandyoyo. We watched and well...it was love at first sight. Lots of great laughs on their home pages and their e-cards and their blog and their newsletters. If you take the time to watch their homepages, then you've got an evening of entertainment right there. (Just click on "animations" in their side column, sit back, get comfy, and get ready to laugh!)
But it's not just laughs that make them great. They are gooooooooooood people. We've met them about three years ago. How? Well here's the story.
Shortly after discovering these guys, I started sending their ecards to my dad as often as I could. He found them very entertaining so I sent them to him often, to give him a smile. (That was back when he was fighting cancer.) Well, somewhere in there, I decided to write to hoops and yoyo and thank them for all the laughs, and I explained how much it meant to me to have something to cheer my dad during his illness.
They wrote me back and, long story short, they ended up making a special custom, audio recording for my dad and about my dad. (They asked me for info about him.) It meant a lot to him, and to my mom, and to me, too. And it made us all laugh.
I'm tellin' ya, gooooooooooooood people. And sometime later, we were in Kansas City, where hoops and yoyo live, and we got to go see them, take a tour of their place, sit in the studio while they recorded some stuff, and we got to get in on some recording, too! They even gave us sneak previews on a couple of the e-cards they were working on at the time. Simply put, these guys ROCK!
Anyway, their humor is great, and their hearts are even greater.
So what are you waiting for? Go over and see them...but be ready to laugh.
(By the way...forgive my writing this evening. My girls are watching "The Love Bug" and it's....distracting.)
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Coming soon....
Ditties. And not just ANY ditties either. Mamma Mia ditties.
It's the obvious "next step."
And I'm going to tell you all about a favorite website of mine. But not tonight. I told myself to go to bed by 10 and I've only got 8 minutes, so I'm outta here.
But the ditties are coming soon. That music is just too fun to avoid dittification.
It's the obvious "next step."
And I'm going to tell you all about a favorite website of mine. But not tonight. I told myself to go to bed by 10 and I've only got 8 minutes, so I'm outta here.
But the ditties are coming soon. That music is just too fun to avoid dittification.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Little Things Mean a Lot
We've all heard the saying, "Little things mean a lot." But you know...it shouldn' t be "a saying." It's just way too true. Its being a saying kind of cheapens the idea. And so...I OBJECT. (I can do that, you know.)
Little things mean a lot. They do to me. And if you admit it, they do to you, too.
Think of a day when you're stressed out, or frustrated, or discouraged about any number of things. Something small can trigger a blow up OR something small can be like a balm to your soul.
It's true. It happened to me today. Not the blowing up part...the balm part...which shouldn't be confused with the bomb part, because the bomb part would be the blowing up part and that's not the part I'm talking about. Follow?
Today was one of those challenging sorts of days for me. Well, not ALL day, but the afternoon was. I had a doctor's appointment that I wanted to go to...it was for good...and I DIDN'T want to go to, all at the same time. So I felt solemn. I felt nervous. Not freaked out, just less than uhhhhh yippy-skippy.
But the appointment went fine. There really wasn't reason to be nervous. A few prescriptions and I was on my way. The little thing that meant a lot??? The doctor gave me samples for TWO of the prescriptions. It eased a financial burden...or at least post-poned it. And that meant a lot to me. It eased a little teeny bit of stress AND I recognized it as one of the little ways that God blesses me and provides for me...and that made it mean even more.
I left the doctor's office and had some other things to deal with. Some financial things that frustrated me even more. Darn this economy! Ok, ok, not the economy. Darn me! Foolish bird-brain in this head. But I was straightening out some ill-advised spending I'd done. Specifically, I was exchanging a necessity for a much better priced, though not nearly as snazzy item. You know, shoving aside "wants" to do what is "wise." And that is good and as it ought to be, but it was also a bit frustrating...and humbling.
What was the little thing that meant a lot? As I left the store, I was a good ways from the door when a lady approached from the outside. She saw me coming...and although she could have easily walked in and let the door close without being the least bit rude because I had plenty far still to go to get there...she stood holding the door and smiling. I didn't have ANYTHING in my hands. I didn't look incapable in anyway. The lady just did it to be kind. Maybe I looked as humbled as I felt at that moment. Who's to say? But for whatever reason, the lady held the door and it made me feel warm inside. Like someone cared...and for nothing in return. She was just giving of herself. And I know she was only giving a few seconds of her day, but she gave them to me, a stranger. And as she did, I saw it, again, as one of the ways God reaches out to me. And it meant even more.
Little things mean a lot.
They do.
They really do.
Little things mean a lot. They do to me. And if you admit it, they do to you, too.
Think of a day when you're stressed out, or frustrated, or discouraged about any number of things. Something small can trigger a blow up OR something small can be like a balm to your soul.
It's true. It happened to me today. Not the blowing up part...the balm part...which shouldn't be confused with the bomb part, because the bomb part would be the blowing up part and that's not the part I'm talking about. Follow?
Today was one of those challenging sorts of days for me. Well, not ALL day, but the afternoon was. I had a doctor's appointment that I wanted to go to...it was for good...and I DIDN'T want to go to, all at the same time. So I felt solemn. I felt nervous. Not freaked out, just less than uhhhhh yippy-skippy.
But the appointment went fine. There really wasn't reason to be nervous. A few prescriptions and I was on my way. The little thing that meant a lot??? The doctor gave me samples for TWO of the prescriptions. It eased a financial burden...or at least post-poned it. And that meant a lot to me. It eased a little teeny bit of stress AND I recognized it as one of the little ways that God blesses me and provides for me...and that made it mean even more.
I left the doctor's office and had some other things to deal with. Some financial things that frustrated me even more. Darn this economy! Ok, ok, not the economy. Darn me! Foolish bird-brain in this head. But I was straightening out some ill-advised spending I'd done. Specifically, I was exchanging a necessity for a much better priced, though not nearly as snazzy item. You know, shoving aside "wants" to do what is "wise." And that is good and as it ought to be, but it was also a bit frustrating...and humbling.
What was the little thing that meant a lot? As I left the store, I was a good ways from the door when a lady approached from the outside. She saw me coming...and although she could have easily walked in and let the door close without being the least bit rude because I had plenty far still to go to get there...she stood holding the door and smiling. I didn't have ANYTHING in my hands. I didn't look incapable in anyway. The lady just did it to be kind. Maybe I looked as humbled as I felt at that moment. Who's to say? But for whatever reason, the lady held the door and it made me feel warm inside. Like someone cared...and for nothing in return. She was just giving of herself. And I know she was only giving a few seconds of her day, but she gave them to me, a stranger. And as she did, I saw it, again, as one of the ways God reaches out to me. And it meant even more.
Little things mean a lot.
They do.
They really do.
Monday, September 8, 2008
My Life IS a Musical
Really. It is. It's a musical. Don't believe me?
Well, case in point. This morning I heard the alarm, woke, realized I was quite queasy, and immediately I began to sing a little song. And it goes like this:
"No-no no no no no n-n-n-no. No-no no no no no n-n-n-no. No-no no no no no n-n-n-no. "
Ok, so it was only in my head. And it went more like, "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo."
Same thing. Potato-potato. Hmmmm, not quite the same effect in writing, huh?
Anyway...a musical! Now I just need pj's that look like overalls and I'll be stellar.
Alright, so my life might not be a musical, but it IS a circus...or at the bare minimum, it's entertaining. Why just this afternoon, my youngest informed me, "Mom, before I have a husband, I'm going to have a cat." No idea what one has to do with another, but now we ALL know.
One of my kindies had the prettiest little butterfly hair-pretty last Friday. She came in today, became rather teary and told me she'd lost it at school. So I told her I'd talk to the class and we'd look for it. When I did talk to the class, I asked that if the butterfly had gone to any of their houses "by accident" to please bring it in...and for everyone to look for it. A little boy came up and told me that I should check my house really well too. Search EVERYWHERE. And if I don't find it, "we'll all come over and spread out!" lol He was too cute.
Ok, so today was a bit of this and that, but there ya have it.
Well, case in point. This morning I heard the alarm, woke, realized I was quite queasy, and immediately I began to sing a little song. And it goes like this:
"No-no no no no no n-n-n-no. No-no no no no no n-n-n-no. No-no no no no no n-n-n-no. "
Ok, so it was only in my head. And it went more like, "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo."
Same thing. Potato-potato. Hmmmm, not quite the same effect in writing, huh?
Anyway...a musical! Now I just need pj's that look like overalls and I'll be stellar.
Alright, so my life might not be a musical, but it IS a circus...or at the bare minimum, it's entertaining. Why just this afternoon, my youngest informed me, "Mom, before I have a husband, I'm going to have a cat." No idea what one has to do with another, but now we ALL know.
One of my kindies had the prettiest little butterfly hair-pretty last Friday. She came in today, became rather teary and told me she'd lost it at school. So I told her I'd talk to the class and we'd look for it. When I did talk to the class, I asked that if the butterfly had gone to any of their houses "by accident" to please bring it in...and for everyone to look for it. A little boy came up and told me that I should check my house really well too. Search EVERYWHERE. And if I don't find it, "we'll all come over and spread out!" lol He was too cute.
Ok, so today was a bit of this and that, but there ya have it.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Mamma Mia, The Singalong! The Good, The Bad, and ... the Other
Ok, primary point of discussion today is "Mamma Mia! The Singalong!" But before we go there, I've got a question. It's rhetorical...especially since I don't think there are any men out there reading my blog. ('How much they miss!' said the humble-hearted bloggist.) But it's a question, nonetheless.
How do men stand having hair on their chests? I mean...personally...I'm glad they do and all, ::whistling innocently::, but how do they stand it?
I got my hair cut right after "The Singalong" and I keep finding bits of cut hair down my shirt because they're itching and DRIVING ME INSANE! And what popped into my mind when I found about the umpteenth hair??? Was it A), "I should go shower off and change clothes"? Was it B), "Sheesh, why does such a tiny thing cause so much irritation?" Or was it C), "HOW DO MEN STAND IT?? HAIR ON THEIR CHESTS ALLLLL THE TIME???" (I hope you all picked C, because if you didn't you weren't reading too closely, were you???....DON'T YOU CARE????)
Ok, when you're done pondering those deep thoughts, turn your attention back here and let's get down to business....which happens to be pleasure this time. (Yes, sometimes the two mix rather well...just ask Meryl.)
You all know my opinion of "Mamma Mia! (The Greatest Movie Ever)." What a fitting name. And we all know that Kristen broke my resistance by informing it was now out in select theaters IN SINGALONG FORMAT! AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! even.
I've been counting down the days. It's been a definite on my calendar. Even when my hairstlyist (with whom I've been playing phone tag) was trying to find a time to fit me in today, I was unavailable during Singalong's time slot. :D
You all also (if you've read all my blog or if you've ever seen me before 9 or 10 in the morning) know that I'm not what we call "a morning person." But I wanted to catch the matinee. I realize I shouldn't be throwing a lot of money at Meryl and Pierce, no matter how amazing their movie is. So I wanted to attend the matinee and not get off my budget. So that was the plan. The matinee was at 11:35...kind of early for a Saturday, but any later and it would be a bit hard to consider it a matinee (what with matinee meaning morning and all.)
Anyway! 11:35 and the theater was 30 minutes from me. (Yeah my closest theater might be hearing from me about this, lol.) So I set my alarm for 10:30. I knew I was going alone and I was going comfy, so half an hour would do it. I know I'm no Meryl but doggone it if she can wear ovies and tool belt, then I can wear comfy clothes, too. So, alarm set for 10:30....which translated to snoozing until 10:55. (Which wasn't easy with the two dress-shirted men ringing my doorbell TWICE before 10. Sorry, no one in here dressed enough to receive you this morning, dudes. Journey on.)
So I got ready in five minutes, yoga pants (not that I've ever done yoga, but man are they comfy!), a tank top, a tee shirt and a jacket in case the theater plotted my death through freezing. Jumped in the car and off I went.
Now normally I'm a pretty calm driver...not overly worried with other drivers, but well...they wouldn't get out of the way this morning! I tried to tell them I had somewhere to be, but it didn't help a lot. Yeah, I was a little.....bit.....excited.
Finally got there, a few minutes still to spare before even the advertisements and preview started to play. I parked and got out, headed toward the box office. Suddenly I realized I wasn't walking. Hill was on the move, running...well jogging anyway... toward the box office. Caught myself and made myself walk...very amused at my own anticipation (but hoping no one else saw me.) I walked up, requested my ticket, and as I paid, the tiny elderly lady giving me the ticket asked, "Are you going to sing along?"
Anyone want to answer her for me????
I gave a very enthusiastic "YES!!" She laughed, handed me the ticket and I headed in the door...handed off the ticket and took the stub. The lady who gave me back the stub said, "You'll enjoy it, it's a very fun movie." I bit back my smarty-pants thoughts, thanked her and headed off down the hall.
Next thought, "What IS it with the running??? WALK!!!" Yeah, busted myself racing for the theater. Somewhere deep inside, I'm still five.
Up until that moment the whole SingAlong experience was all I could hope and more. My anticipation was HUGE and all was going well.
I walked in, looked around and saw about 8 people in the theater. Ohhhhhhhhh crum. Still, I thought, maybe they'll be very enthusiastic. Let's go for it.
So I take my place...all alone...so as not to drown out the movie should anyone else want to hear it. The movie took off, complete with the big blue and gold singalong words lighting up as I sang along to the songs. Emphasis on *I*...because not a darn soul in there made so much as a peep! Except me. And I sang. However..........it was a bit inhibiting. I didn't want to JUST sing. I wanted to BELT IT OUT!! Ok, I guess it wasn't a Belt-It-Out-Along, but still.... Meryl got to belt it out. ::sniff::
It was a singalong with the party poopers. You've heard that every party has a pooper? Well they were all invited to today's singalong. And they all showed up. All 8 of them. It was wrong....on so many levels.
But I sang.........and I hope they enjoyed it. :D
And Sunshine, I want you to know that Pierce looked just as fine up there on the cliff while I sang along with Meryl. The wind still rustled through his hair and flicked at his colllars. And the the part that I think I like the best was when Meryl took off running toward the church and PIERCE RAN AFTER HER. ::sigh:: THAT's when I wished I were Meryl. :) RUN AFTER *ME*, PIERCE!!! OVER HEEEEEEEEEEERE!!! (Shoot, he could have chased me down in the theater hallway....after all I WAS running.)
Ok, that was the part I like best besides singing "The Winner Takes It All" and "Dancing Queen"...and when Colin sings "Our Last Summer" and when he smiles at Sophie at the end of that song...and Pierce and Meryl singing S.O.S. and Pierce dancing when Meryl's singing Super Trouper and fancy spandex, lol, .....and....and...well, there's just a lot of parts I like best. lol
So let this be a lesson to you. Take your own singing mob along if you're going to a matinee. Or be sure you go to a later performance if you want a lot of help singing and don't have a mob of your own to take along.
Oh and it WAS a little disappointing that I didn't have a pair of ovies or a tool belt to wear to the movie today. It really would have made it...party poopers or no.
How do men stand having hair on their chests? I mean...personally...I'm glad they do and all, ::whistling innocently::, but how do they stand it?
I got my hair cut right after "The Singalong" and I keep finding bits of cut hair down my shirt because they're itching and DRIVING ME INSANE! And what popped into my mind when I found about the umpteenth hair??? Was it A), "I should go shower off and change clothes"? Was it B), "Sheesh, why does such a tiny thing cause so much irritation?" Or was it C), "HOW DO MEN STAND IT?? HAIR ON THEIR CHESTS ALLLLL THE TIME???" (I hope you all picked C, because if you didn't you weren't reading too closely, were you???....DON'T YOU CARE????)
Ok, when you're done pondering those deep thoughts, turn your attention back here and let's get down to business....which happens to be pleasure this time. (Yes, sometimes the two mix rather well...just ask Meryl.)
You all know my opinion of "Mamma Mia! (The Greatest Movie Ever)." What a fitting name. And we all know that Kristen broke my resistance by informing it was now out in select theaters IN SINGALONG FORMAT! AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! even.
I've been counting down the days. It's been a definite on my calendar. Even when my hairstlyist (with whom I've been playing phone tag) was trying to find a time to fit me in today, I was unavailable during Singalong's time slot. :D
You all also (if you've read all my blog or if you've ever seen me before 9 or 10 in the morning) know that I'm not what we call "a morning person." But I wanted to catch the matinee. I realize I shouldn't be throwing a lot of money at Meryl and Pierce, no matter how amazing their movie is. So I wanted to attend the matinee and not get off my budget. So that was the plan. The matinee was at 11:35...kind of early for a Saturday, but any later and it would be a bit hard to consider it a matinee (what with matinee meaning morning and all.)
Anyway! 11:35 and the theater was 30 minutes from me. (Yeah my closest theater might be hearing from me about this, lol.) So I set my alarm for 10:30. I knew I was going alone and I was going comfy, so half an hour would do it. I know I'm no Meryl but doggone it if she can wear ovies and tool belt, then I can wear comfy clothes, too. So, alarm set for 10:30....which translated to snoozing until 10:55. (Which wasn't easy with the two dress-shirted men ringing my doorbell TWICE before 10. Sorry, no one in here dressed enough to receive you this morning, dudes. Journey on.)
So I got ready in five minutes, yoga pants (not that I've ever done yoga, but man are they comfy!), a tank top, a tee shirt and a jacket in case the theater plotted my death through freezing. Jumped in the car and off I went.
Now normally I'm a pretty calm driver...not overly worried with other drivers, but well...they wouldn't get out of the way this morning! I tried to tell them I had somewhere to be, but it didn't help a lot. Yeah, I was a little.....bit.....excited.
Finally got there, a few minutes still to spare before even the advertisements and preview started to play. I parked and got out, headed toward the box office. Suddenly I realized I wasn't walking. Hill was on the move, running...well jogging anyway... toward the box office. Caught myself and made myself walk...very amused at my own anticipation (but hoping no one else saw me.) I walked up, requested my ticket, and as I paid, the tiny elderly lady giving me the ticket asked, "Are you going to sing along?"
Anyone want to answer her for me????
I gave a very enthusiastic "YES!!" She laughed, handed me the ticket and I headed in the door...handed off the ticket and took the stub. The lady who gave me back the stub said, "You'll enjoy it, it's a very fun movie." I bit back my smarty-pants thoughts, thanked her and headed off down the hall.
Next thought, "What IS it with the running??? WALK!!!" Yeah, busted myself racing for the theater. Somewhere deep inside, I'm still five.
Up until that moment the whole SingAlong experience was all I could hope and more. My anticipation was HUGE and all was going well.
I walked in, looked around and saw about 8 people in the theater. Ohhhhhhhhh crum. Still, I thought, maybe they'll be very enthusiastic. Let's go for it.
So I take my place...all alone...so as not to drown out the movie should anyone else want to hear it. The movie took off, complete with the big blue and gold singalong words lighting up as I sang along to the songs. Emphasis on *I*...because not a darn soul in there made so much as a peep! Except me. And I sang. However..........it was a bit inhibiting. I didn't want to JUST sing. I wanted to BELT IT OUT!! Ok, I guess it wasn't a Belt-It-Out-Along, but still.... Meryl got to belt it out. ::sniff::
It was a singalong with the party poopers. You've heard that every party has a pooper? Well they were all invited to today's singalong. And they all showed up. All 8 of them. It was wrong....on so many levels.
But I sang.........and I hope they enjoyed it. :D
And Sunshine, I want you to know that Pierce looked just as fine up there on the cliff while I sang along with Meryl. The wind still rustled through his hair and flicked at his colllars. And the the part that I think I like the best was when Meryl took off running toward the church and PIERCE RAN AFTER HER. ::sigh:: THAT's when I wished I were Meryl. :) RUN AFTER *ME*, PIERCE!!! OVER HEEEEEEEEEEERE!!! (Shoot, he could have chased me down in the theater hallway....after all I WAS running.)
Ok, that was the part I like best besides singing "The Winner Takes It All" and "Dancing Queen"...and when Colin sings "Our Last Summer" and when he smiles at Sophie at the end of that song...and Pierce and Meryl singing S.O.S. and Pierce dancing when Meryl's singing Super Trouper and fancy spandex, lol, .....and....and...well, there's just a lot of parts I like best. lol
So let this be a lesson to you. Take your own singing mob along if you're going to a matinee. Or be sure you go to a later performance if you want a lot of help singing and don't have a mob of your own to take along.
Oh and it WAS a little disappointing that I didn't have a pair of ovies or a tool belt to wear to the movie today. It really would have made it...party poopers or no.
Friday, September 5, 2008
My Friday Photos...and Wardrobe for Sunshine
Before I go into my actual entry for CandidCarrie's Friday Foto Finish Fiesta, (as seen at http://carriestuckmann.blogspot.com/) I had to share these photos for Sunshine. If that $300+ dress doesn't work out (WOW! What a dress!), I thought maybe this fashion of Alli's might work out. I know sunglasses aren't particularly cool for wearing inside...or at a ball, but clearly the shades make this ensemble....particularly with what-the-heck-are-those-little-things-on-the-frames...not to mention the crocheted doily on the head. Feel free to steal her idea Sunshine. She'd be happy to know she helped.
Here they are. My Friday Photos. I saw Sunshine's pics of her girls' first day of school....and the fresh new baby pics and it made me feel all mushy again about my own two. So I went in search of some of my favorite pictures of my girls. My only regret is the quality of the photos, but I LOVE this series of shots. The girls would sit together in a laundry basket with pillows and blankies (here they're using a little green bunny afghan I made for Alli when I was carrying her.)
I can't really put words to why I like these best. To me the pictures speak for themselves. I miss the days when they were just babies like this. Alli, big as she was, wasn't even really talking then. (She took her time...but has made up for it!)They've always been really good playmates for each other and it's always fun for a mamma to watch her children enjoying each other.
Anyway, those are my favorites for this time around...just 'cuz they're my babies.
I LOVE pudgy little "baby hands".
For whatever reason I can't get the spacing and layout on these pictures right...
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Lame Post of the Year
Hmmmm...
I'm not sure at all what I want to write about this evening. But I've been having way too many days when I just shrug off the blog because I don't have some great idea to go with. And that's kind of not the point (AT ALL) of me starting to blog in the first place. This is supposed to ENCOURAGE me to use my brain and write...write...write!
So, if you're having trouble sleeping (and judging from the fact that most my comments come while I'm in bed, I'd guess that some of you are reading during what SHOULD be sleeping hours) perhaps you should grab a glass of warm milk, cozy up, and read this boring entry. (You're really hooked now, aren't you??) Oh and by the way, if you're getting some warm milk to wash down this blog, would you please do me a favor and make it chocolate? Warm white milk is ... well ... I think *GAG* says it best.
Ok, yeah, I think I'm done.
Well, geez, that was worth it.
Pleasant dreams.
I guess I COULD talk about Mamma Mia again, lol. But we'll save that for Saturday because...you KNOW...the Singalong is coming this weekend!! WHOOOOOOOOOOO!
I'm not sure at all what I want to write about this evening. But I've been having way too many days when I just shrug off the blog because I don't have some great idea to go with. And that's kind of not the point (AT ALL) of me starting to blog in the first place. This is supposed to ENCOURAGE me to use my brain and write...write...write!
So, if you're having trouble sleeping (and judging from the fact that most my comments come while I'm in bed, I'd guess that some of you are reading during what SHOULD be sleeping hours) perhaps you should grab a glass of warm milk, cozy up, and read this boring entry. (You're really hooked now, aren't you??) Oh and by the way, if you're getting some warm milk to wash down this blog, would you please do me a favor and make it chocolate? Warm white milk is ... well ... I think *GAG* says it best.
Ok, yeah, I think I'm done.
Well, geez, that was worth it.
Pleasant dreams.
I guess I COULD talk about Mamma Mia again, lol. But we'll save that for Saturday because...you KNOW...the Singalong is coming this weekend!! WHOOOOOOOOOOO!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Adventure More Commonly Known as SHOTS!
Today was the day. The day that makes my children wish there were only 364 days in the year...and this is the one they'd like to see taken away. It was the day of their annual physical. I can sympathize. I was never real calm about going to the doctor...or dentist for that matter...as a child. In fact I can remember very early dentist appointments where I hid behind the sofa in the waiting room, because no one could reach back there and there was NO WAY I was going to willingly enter the dentist office. Yeah, dream on, people.
Now, as an adult, I'm better. It's still not a favorite thing for me, but I don't fit behind the sofa anymore, so what's the use in freaking out? People point and laugh...and that doesn't help.
But wait...this is about my girls' big day.
I told them this morning that today was the day. They asked about shots and I wasn't completely sure about them so I just told them I didn't know, that we'd have to see.
After school we hopped in the car and headed for the doctor's office. They entere pre-panic mode at that point. They behaved as though reasonable, but their guards were up. As we were taken back by the nurse, the first things the girls said were, "DO WE NEED SHOTS??!" She tells them that they'd have to wait and see what the doctor said.
They're still functioning pretty well, ... seemingly happy and eager to show off for the nurse. So far so good.
In came the doctor. Before she could even say hello, "DO WE NEED SHOTS??!!" She laughed and said, "Hold on. Don't I get to even introduce myself??" (Nice evasion, don't you think?)
We go through the whole rigamarole (sp?) and yes, indeed, a finger-prick and one shot apiece. They were over joyed and it began to show.
Megan begins getting "pacey." The cage isn't big enough and she'd like free run of the zoo. Historically this is normal for Megan. However, TODAY was also historical for Megan, because today Megan handled ALMOST the entire visit with calm. There was one moment when she began to panic and she listened to me (okay and felt that my bulging biceps were not going to give in and let her bolt) and she took a few deep breaths and stayed calm. Not a tear, not a scream. About the worst of her reactions was "That hurt SOOO bad!" after the finger-prick. And the only reason that was negative was because Allison had tunneled under the chairs and had already been crying for about ten minutes...in anticipation of it all.
With Megan done, the male nurse and I began to try to get Alli out from under the chairs. We found it was much easier to just removed the chairs. (Tonight she told me she thought the chairs were bolted to the ground. It must have been quite a disappointment to see how easily I lifted them, lol.) I won't bother with a blow by blow, but I am confident to say that I could have taken the heavyweight belt in a wrestling match today. Yep, hold down a terrified 7-year-old for a vaccination in her thigh and it will prove how much strength you have. So...bring it! lol (I can't even pull that off in print, ::sigh::.)
Anyway, although Alli did a whole lot of resisting and a whole lot of crying, even she was better than the past couple years. And Megan...WOW...she is DEFINITELY growing up. It's moments like this when I realize how much she's maturing. Two years ago I almost lost my hearing listening to her scream through a couple shots, a finger-prick, and a TB test. I called my mom half-way across the country to ask if she'd heard the screams. And man! What a wrestling match! Add some pudding or mudd and you've got an event at the county fair, I'm tellin' ya! And then Alli did the same thing. It's a wonder I have any hearing left at all.
Thank goodness it's only once a year.
Now, as an adult, I'm better. It's still not a favorite thing for me, but I don't fit behind the sofa anymore, so what's the use in freaking out? People point and laugh...and that doesn't help.
But wait...this is about my girls' big day.
I told them this morning that today was the day. They asked about shots and I wasn't completely sure about them so I just told them I didn't know, that we'd have to see.
After school we hopped in the car and headed for the doctor's office. They entere pre-panic mode at that point. They behaved as though reasonable, but their guards were up. As we were taken back by the nurse, the first things the girls said were, "DO WE NEED SHOTS??!" She tells them that they'd have to wait and see what the doctor said.
They're still functioning pretty well, ... seemingly happy and eager to show off for the nurse. So far so good.
In came the doctor. Before she could even say hello, "DO WE NEED SHOTS??!!" She laughed and said, "Hold on. Don't I get to even introduce myself??" (Nice evasion, don't you think?)
We go through the whole rigamarole (sp?) and yes, indeed, a finger-prick and one shot apiece. They were over joyed and it began to show.
Megan begins getting "pacey." The cage isn't big enough and she'd like free run of the zoo. Historically this is normal for Megan. However, TODAY was also historical for Megan, because today Megan handled ALMOST the entire visit with calm. There was one moment when she began to panic and she listened to me (okay and felt that my bulging biceps were not going to give in and let her bolt) and she took a few deep breaths and stayed calm. Not a tear, not a scream. About the worst of her reactions was "That hurt SOOO bad!" after the finger-prick. And the only reason that was negative was because Allison had tunneled under the chairs and had already been crying for about ten minutes...in anticipation of it all.
With Megan done, the male nurse and I began to try to get Alli out from under the chairs. We found it was much easier to just removed the chairs. (Tonight she told me she thought the chairs were bolted to the ground. It must have been quite a disappointment to see how easily I lifted them, lol.) I won't bother with a blow by blow, but I am confident to say that I could have taken the heavyweight belt in a wrestling match today. Yep, hold down a terrified 7-year-old for a vaccination in her thigh and it will prove how much strength you have. So...bring it! lol (I can't even pull that off in print, ::sigh::.)
Anyway, although Alli did a whole lot of resisting and a whole lot of crying, even she was better than the past couple years. And Megan...WOW...she is DEFINITELY growing up. It's moments like this when I realize how much she's maturing. Two years ago I almost lost my hearing listening to her scream through a couple shots, a finger-prick, and a TB test. I called my mom half-way across the country to ask if she'd heard the screams. And man! What a wrestling match! Add some pudding or mudd and you've got an event at the county fair, I'm tellin' ya! And then Alli did the same thing. It's a wonder I have any hearing left at all.
Thank goodness it's only once a year.
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