There is an old custom among my people. It’s the tradition of the “parting gift”. Now usually, it’s a snide or sarcastic remark usually accompanied by a hug or pat on the back. Sometimes it’s supplemented by the ending line of, “We’ll see you next________ (insert holiday here),” which is shouted at you as you drive away. Even though they know full well it will probably be years before they can clamp that iron fist of guilt around your throat and thus drag you back into the pit of despair, er, the family homestead.
Sometimes the parting gift includes food. The sandwiches made with mayonnaise, (the warm, congealed contents of which will end up in a dumpster on route 99) so you won’t have to stop on the way home to eat. The left over chicken, cookies, pie. Maybe a bottle of water, warm soda, or the leavings in the coffee pot. The parting gift can be many different things, but they all mean the same thing; we’ll miss ya. Hurry back soon.
Our youngest foster daughter, however, hasn’t quiet got the feel for this tradition and instead of leaving me with some witty, guilt ridden one liner, she’s blessed me with a doozey of a head cold. Nice. KK the Destroyer is a bit too free with her love and she’s snotted, sneezed, and slimed me on just about every inch of my person. Ewwww…
Actually, they haven’t officially left the building. Like Elvis, they’re lingering, at least until Wednesday morning. Most of their stuff is gone, except for the random few toys and clothes. I sent the scrapbook I made of the girls to Bio-Mom on Saturday. One more pick-up and I’m finished driving 40 miles (round trip) twice a week.
But I’m toying with a goodbye gift. Just a little something to mark the day as special “welcome back to your mom’s world, hope it don’t kill ya” kinda gift. No, it’s not necessary and in many ways I’d rather give them a cell phone and teach them how to dial 911 and my number, considering it would probably be more useful than a new toy, but that’s not very, um, constructive or nice. Not really.
I’d like to impart wisdom to them. You know, the kind of words you say as you drop you child off at college for the first time:
Make sure to get enough sleep
Call your mother, she’ll worry
Don’t eat too many carbs
Don’t forget to call home
Be careful who you hang out with
Do you have my cell phone number?
Don’t post nasty pictures on the internet; they’re sure to come back to haunt you
If you call and no one answers, leave a message so we know you’ve called
If you need anything, just call
Call, you don’t want to make your mother cry
Remember, I’m just a phone call away…
However, the little girls are, well, little. They don’t know how to use a phone (should have taught them) and they don’t TXT, IM, or blog. I’ll have to rely on God to watch over them. But I think I’ll remind them that:
God is always near, no matter what
Pick up your toys
Auntie loves you
Auntie Teri loves you too
Don’t fight
Uncle Chris loves
So does Uncle Alan
Share
Brush your teeth
Look both ways before crossing a busy street
Wash your hands
Don’t fight
I love you
I will always love you
Parting gifts come in many shapes and sizes. Some are thoughtful, some are simply passed down through generations of grandmothers, like that Stollen recipe everyone tries to give me at Christmas. So, in parting, let me just say, again, I love you Monster and I love you too Destroyer. Or better yet:
Live long and prosper
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The List
It’s Thursday; thus far today it has rained and hailed intersected with moments of golden, delicious sunlight falling upon the face of the earth…then twenty-nine seconds later, it pours again. Yesterday it snowed. Snowed. In March. At my house. Weird. Granted, the flakes were heavy and wet. They didn’t actually stick to anything, but just seeing them land on my windshield irked me. Snow in Oregon in March is pretty darn rare, at least at my elevation. It would seem that March is in like a lamb and out like a lion as the saying goes. All of which pretty much mirrors my mood for the day.
In 6 days the little girls return to bio mom. I’ve already sent nearly everything back with them. Only a few articles of clothing and a box of toys remain. The house is starting to show signs of being a toddler free zone. One side of me is pleased at how clean the house is going to be. She’s is reveling in the quiet and thinking happy thoughts about writing, etc.
The other side is a bit of a sap. Her tender little heart is sad about the girls leaving. She’s worried for their safety and dreading that her forecast of their future will come true. This side would like to lock the door when the case worker shows up Wednesday morning and not let her take the wee girls. She’s a bit of a drama queen and thankfully, the logical side tries not to let her out very often. After all, she’s been known to make a spectacle of herself. Silly girl.
One of the things that both sides agree on is that we are all irritated at the one question that is continually being thrust our way:
”What are you going to do with yourself when the girls are gone?”
So, in case you are interested or have found yourself locked within the confines of my blog (insert evil laugh here), this is my to-do list for after April 2nd:
Personal List:
Sleep – ahh I remember sleep! It’s that thing I use to do before the girls came. I use to sleep all night. In fact, sometimes I even slept later than (gasp) 5 am.
Workout – while not nearly as much fun as sleep, it does add a certain element of fitness. Exercise makes me feel good, it makes my clothes fit better or (sniffle) makes them too large and then I have to go shopping. It’s a terrible burden, but I’ll manage. Somehow.
Read – One of my favorite things to do. I’ll read my Bible, every day (!), I’ll finish the books I’ve started and begin new ones. I’ll spend time at the library, just me library card and me! And let’s not forget those blogs…all those lovely, lovely blogs in cyber space. They just call my name, you know? I believe it’s Patty that titled her link lists as enablers…yeah enablers…how I love them!
Write – The book must get finished. Must. The stories need to be finished by September. Those essays, yeah, you know the ones, they are long over due. I’ll be writin’ me wee little heart out. Then of course there is that new and very exciting writing news…that I haven’t shared with you yet…soon dahling, soon…
Family, House, and Friends List:
House – I will finish the remodeling we started last spring (you don’t want to know). I think that by the time I finish all the little projects that should have been finished…oh, twelve years ago, we’ll move. Isn’t that the way it works?
Family – My babies are growing up so very fast. I will spend extra special time with the delightful Miss C and make the trek south to have lunch or coffee with my boy. Then of course, there’s that guy who lives here too. He’s the one who makes the money and litters my house with his antique receivers, turntables and tape decks. I’ll be spending me some quality time with him so that when Miss C eventually leaves we will still like each other. Come the end of May, Beloved and I are burnin’ rubber and hittin’ the road. Just the two of us. I CANNOT wait.
Friends – my dear, dear friends. I see coffee in our future and we won’t have to meet at McDonalds (a very special shout out to The Giver and The Writer for meeting me in the second level of hell just so I could see the white of yer eyes!). The future holds many wonderful moments for us and I cannot wait see you again and the beautiful thing is you won’t have to listen to any stories about wee girls, potty training, the Donut Man, or why my left eye twitches. It’s gonna be great, it really, really is.
I think it’s a pretty healthy list the logical side of me is rubbing her hands and eager to get started; the sappy side is dreading Wednesday morning. I think we’ll let her have a good cry and then tackle that list!
In 6 days the little girls return to bio mom. I’ve already sent nearly everything back with them. Only a few articles of clothing and a box of toys remain. The house is starting to show signs of being a toddler free zone. One side of me is pleased at how clean the house is going to be. She’s is reveling in the quiet and thinking happy thoughts about writing, etc.
The other side is a bit of a sap. Her tender little heart is sad about the girls leaving. She’s worried for their safety and dreading that her forecast of their future will come true. This side would like to lock the door when the case worker shows up Wednesday morning and not let her take the wee girls. She’s a bit of a drama queen and thankfully, the logical side tries not to let her out very often. After all, she’s been known to make a spectacle of herself. Silly girl.
One of the things that both sides agree on is that we are all irritated at the one question that is continually being thrust our way:
So, in case you are interested or have found yourself locked within the confines of my blog (insert evil laugh here), this is my to-do list for after April 2nd:
Personal List:
Sleep – ahh I remember sleep! It’s that thing I use to do before the girls came. I use to sleep all night. In fact, sometimes I even slept later than (gasp) 5 am.
Workout – while not nearly as much fun as sleep, it does add a certain element of fitness. Exercise makes me feel good, it makes my clothes fit better or (sniffle) makes them too large and then I have to go shopping. It’s a terrible burden, but I’ll manage. Somehow.
Read – One of my favorite things to do. I’ll read my Bible, every day (!), I’ll finish the books I’ve started and begin new ones. I’ll spend time at the library, just me library card and me! And let’s not forget those blogs…all those lovely, lovely blogs in cyber space. They just call my name, you know? I believe it’s Patty that titled her link lists as enablers…yeah enablers…how I love them!
Write – The book must get finished. Must. The stories need to be finished by September. Those essays, yeah, you know the ones, they are long over due. I’ll be writin’ me wee little heart out. Then of course there is that new and very exciting writing news…that I haven’t shared with you yet…soon dahling, soon…
Family, House, and Friends List:
House – I will finish the remodeling we started last spring (you don’t want to know). I think that by the time I finish all the little projects that should have been finished…oh, twelve years ago, we’ll move. Isn’t that the way it works?
Family – My babies are growing up so very fast. I will spend extra special time with the delightful Miss C and make the trek south to have lunch or coffee with my boy. Then of course, there’s that guy who lives here too. He’s the one who makes the money and litters my house with his antique receivers, turntables and tape decks. I’ll be spending me some quality time with him so that when Miss C eventually leaves we will still like each other. Come the end of May, Beloved and I are burnin’ rubber and hittin’ the road. Just the two of us. I CANNOT wait.
Friends – my dear, dear friends. I see coffee in our future and we won’t have to meet at McDonalds (a very special shout out to The Giver and The Writer for meeting me in the second level of hell just so I could see the white of yer eyes!). The future holds many wonderful moments for us and I cannot wait see you again and the beautiful thing is you won’t have to listen to any stories about wee girls, potty training, the Donut Man, or why my left eye twitches. It’s gonna be great, it really, really is.
I think it’s a pretty healthy list the logical side of me is rubbing her hands and eager to get started; the sappy side is dreading Wednesday morning. I think we’ll let her have a good cry and then tackle that list!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
The Apple of My Eye
So, my mother is mean. Got it. Won’t forget it again. I’ve sworn before and will swear again, “I will not be my mother. I am a child of God. He loved me enough to die for me and He doesn’t play head games. I will not be my mother. I will be like my heavenly Father. The one who (gulp) forgives, the one who loves unconditionally, the one who can strike that woman dead with just a flick of his little finger…”
Ooopppss…What I meant to say, is that I will keep my eyes where they should be and not focus on the negative around me.
With that being said please allow me to introduce you to my daughter.
My lovely, talented, amazing daughter is fifteen. She is a giver. The delightful Miss C is the apple of my eye and part of the reason I will never behave like my mother (her older brother is the other reason). She brings sunlight and laughter into this house and without her; I would be lost, really.
As a little girl she was scared of everything. From sand to uneven country ground, she feared it. The loft of the barn was beyond her mind and legs grasp since she had to climb a ladder to get there. Miss C was afraid of the dark and spiders. A funny thing though, she wasn’t afraid of snakes.
She would hunt and catch one gardener snake after another…bare handed. A feat even her older brother wouldn’t attempt. When one bit her, she’d scream, drop it, then turn and pick it up again. The family spent a good deal of time rolling in laughter watching her antics with the snakes.
Miss C had a blood curdling scream. I kid you not. If she was hurt, she screamed. Mad? She screamed. Frustrated, yep, you got it, she screamed. I well remember a time when Beloved was home from work when Miss C let loose with one of those earth shattering shrieks. He dropped what he was doing and sprinted for the front door. I shook my head and sighed, “She’s not hurt. She’s just mad.” If I remember correctly, after that event, she never screamed like that within her father’s hearing. For my part, I finally told her that, “If you scream like that again, there had better be blood or someone better be trying to steal you away.” Thankfully, she outgrew that annoying little habit.
My dearest daughter is a lover of books, her piano, chocolate, and Starbucks. She loves to cook, as long as it involves sugar. She despises washing dishes but is usually pretty fair minded when it comes to drying them. Miss C has gained a reputation for volunteering at our church and knows more people than I do. I am constantly reminded of the sweetness of her character by the praises of others.
Of course, she isn’t all peaches and cream. It would be easier to find and wake Moses than to get that girl out of bed. If she gets in the shower before you, you may as well wait till the cows come home, because she won’t be out any time soon. She “forgets” to scoop that cat box, leaves dirty socks everywhere, and I’m fairly certain she has no idea what a hanger is for. When it comes to shoe shopping, I’d rather hire someone to take her than go myself. She is indeed the princess and the pea when it comes to shoes.
My little girl is fair and blonde, tall and thin, and apparently easy on the eyes by judging the scowl her brother constantly wears when he’s out in public with her. John has informed his sister, Miss C, that she is never getting married since there isn’t a guy alive worthy of her (awwww ain’t that sweet?)
She loves the Lord, loves her Daddy, and yes, she even loves her crazy, emotional mama. I am amazed at her strength of character and marvel at her maturity. Miss C keeps me humble, makes me laugh, and shares her coffee. What more could a mommy ask for?
I love you Crissy
Miss C and Cousin C
Miss C and Miss S before the Father-Daughter Ball
C and C
Snowy Miss C
Ooopppss…What I meant to say, is that I will keep my eyes where they should be and not focus on the negative around me.
With that being said please allow me to introduce you to my daughter.
My lovely, talented, amazing daughter is fifteen. She is a giver. The delightful Miss C is the apple of my eye and part of the reason I will never behave like my mother (her older brother is the other reason). She brings sunlight and laughter into this house and without her; I would be lost, really.
As a little girl she was scared of everything. From sand to uneven country ground, she feared it. The loft of the barn was beyond her mind and legs grasp since she had to climb a ladder to get there. Miss C was afraid of the dark and spiders. A funny thing though, she wasn’t afraid of snakes.
She would hunt and catch one gardener snake after another…bare handed. A feat even her older brother wouldn’t attempt. When one bit her, she’d scream, drop it, then turn and pick it up again. The family spent a good deal of time rolling in laughter watching her antics with the snakes.
Miss C had a blood curdling scream. I kid you not. If she was hurt, she screamed. Mad? She screamed. Frustrated, yep, you got it, she screamed. I well remember a time when Beloved was home from work when Miss C let loose with one of those earth shattering shrieks. He dropped what he was doing and sprinted for the front door. I shook my head and sighed, “She’s not hurt. She’s just mad.” If I remember correctly, after that event, she never screamed like that within her father’s hearing. For my part, I finally told her that, “If you scream like that again, there had better be blood or someone better be trying to steal you away.” Thankfully, she outgrew that annoying little habit.
My dearest daughter is a lover of books, her piano, chocolate, and Starbucks. She loves to cook, as long as it involves sugar. She despises washing dishes but is usually pretty fair minded when it comes to drying them. Miss C has gained a reputation for volunteering at our church and knows more people than I do. I am constantly reminded of the sweetness of her character by the praises of others.
Of course, she isn’t all peaches and cream. It would be easier to find and wake Moses than to get that girl out of bed. If she gets in the shower before you, you may as well wait till the cows come home, because she won’t be out any time soon. She “forgets” to scoop that cat box, leaves dirty socks everywhere, and I’m fairly certain she has no idea what a hanger is for. When it comes to shoe shopping, I’d rather hire someone to take her than go myself. She is indeed the princess and the pea when it comes to shoes.
My little girl is fair and blonde, tall and thin, and apparently easy on the eyes by judging the scowl her brother constantly wears when he’s out in public with her. John has informed his sister, Miss C, that she is never getting married since there isn’t a guy alive worthy of her (awwww ain’t that sweet?)
She loves the Lord, loves her Daddy, and yes, she even loves her crazy, emotional mama. I am amazed at her strength of character and marvel at her maturity. Miss C keeps me humble, makes me laugh, and shares her coffee. What more could a mommy ask for?
I love you Crissy
Miss C and Cousin C
Miss C and Miss S before the Father-Daughter Ball
C and C
Snowy Miss C
Saturday, March 22, 2008
-Luke 24:39
“These are My words which I spoke to you while I was still with you, that all things which are written about Me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.”
-Luke 24:44
“Thus it is written, that the Christ would suffer and rise again from the dead the third day, and that repentance for forgiveness of sins would be proclaimed in His name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem.
-Luke 24:46-47
Jesus Christ built a bridge for us...with two boards and three nails.
I wish you a very joyful Resurrection Day.
He is risen!
He is risen indeed!
Friday, March 21, 2008
“As my friend?”
“To hell with caution.”
-Prime Minister William Pitt to William Wilberforce from the movie “Amazing Grace”
This kind of describes the least few days. I fretted over not being able to go to the hospital to see my friend. Thankfully, Miss C, who is often times wiser than her mama, pointed out that a piano lesson is not nearly as important as ones friend. Thus, caution was thrown to the wind and I trekked to the hospital, a tall, double-shot, caramel macchiato, nifty purple flower and a big, obnoxious smiley balloon in tow.
Friend was well. Friend had nose tampon in place and a wee bit of a Frankenstein look about her…in other words, she was beautiful! My little heart rejoiced to see her with me own eyes. That and witnessing first hand her new tattoo gave me ideas for blog fodder for at least a week, maybe even a month!
I also had a nice little reality check in the form of a district attorney, a gang enforcement officer, three, maybe four police officers, and witnesses to the crime. How is it that I (we) can go so blithely about our business when danger, real danger, is mere feet away. Gulp. Idiot girl I may be, but I have no desire to mess with the gangsters. I think I’ll keep these bones close to the home hearth!
Then…I tackled my mother.
No, I didn’t really get physical with her, but I asked a pointed question. One thing led to another and now my parents are going to join my family at the Easter pot luck at our church.
My parents haven’t set foot inside a church since the day I got married. And that is a wee bit o’ twenty years ago. It has been made abundantly clear that they are not interested in myreligion, which is a boundary I have always respected. Other than my father randomly telling me something the Pope has said or done (in which case I remind him that I am not Catholic) we don’t discuss religion, politics or my views on child rearing. Hey, it works for us.
So, the thought of my very…um…colorful daddy, sitting in a church setting…kinda makes me nervous and giggly. I’m so happy they are coming and I’m hoping Pop will keeps his, um, more colorful tales to himself. Thanks to him, to this very day, I cannot sing, “We Three Kings”. It seems the only version I remember is the one he taught me when I was a child…and it’s not very…Biblical…LOL!!!
I also rectified the colored egg issue. I’ll post pictures later, but I’ll simply say that them eggies are bursting with glorious colors and there are little blue eyes dancing with glee.
Countdown: 12 days
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I've Never been Good at Waiting
I am annoyed
Peeved
Put-out
Irritated
And it’s only 7:15…
Where to begin, where to begin…
There’s the fact that FIL’s dog has had to go outside for the last 45 minutes. She’s in her kennel which sits above the wee girl’s room. You can imagine the racket as she paws at the floor and cries pitifully. Some people just shouldn’t have pets! Snort!
And, if it’s not one thing, it’s my mother.
Mine is acting strange. Strange in a way that tells me she’s peeved with me. The problem is I’m not sure what it’s about. Mom and I have had a pretty rocky relationship for the past, oh, I don’t know, forty years! I thought we’d moved beyond all this. I thought we were being open and honest with one another. I thought wrong. Grrrr!
Then the Monster announces to me that her mom is coloring Easter eggs…today…the girls saw her yesterday. They will not see her today. Why is this woman coloring Easter eggs without her daughters? Could she say they are too young? I think not. I colored Easter eggs with them last year and the Destroyer was only 20 months old!
Sad little Monster also told me that her brother got to move home yesterday…and she didn’t. She has beautiful blue eyes, this little Monster. Yet even when she smiles, it never reaches her eyes. There is a deep sorrow within her soul and none of us can reach it.
I suppose my biggest problem this morning is the fact that my dear friend is ill. I’m worried about her and that makes me edgy. I can’t go running to the hospital and entertain her for hours. I can’t dazzle her with my wit. I can’t even share with her the news about my new project. I have to wait.
Patiently
I hate that
Then again, it’s not all about me is it?
Guess I’ll go make some coffee, dress wee girls, clean the house, try to figure out what to do with my mother and wait for a call telling me my best friend is okay.
Sigh
Update 8:08 am: Friend will be staying another day in the hospital...
Peeved
Put-out
Irritated
And it’s only 7:15…
Where to begin, where to begin…
There’s the fact that FIL’s dog has had to go outside for the last 45 minutes. She’s in her kennel which sits above the wee girl’s room. You can imagine the racket as she paws at the floor and cries pitifully. Some people just shouldn’t have pets! Snort!
And, if it’s not one thing, it’s my mother.
Mine is acting strange. Strange in a way that tells me she’s peeved with me. The problem is I’m not sure what it’s about. Mom and I have had a pretty rocky relationship for the past, oh, I don’t know, forty years! I thought we’d moved beyond all this. I thought we were being open and honest with one another. I thought wrong. Grrrr!
Then the Monster announces to me that her mom is coloring Easter eggs…today…the girls saw her yesterday. They will not see her today. Why is this woman coloring Easter eggs without her daughters? Could she say they are too young? I think not. I colored Easter eggs with them last year and the Destroyer was only 20 months old!
Sad little Monster also told me that her brother got to move home yesterday…and she didn’t. She has beautiful blue eyes, this little Monster. Yet even when she smiles, it never reaches her eyes. There is a deep sorrow within her soul and none of us can reach it.
I suppose my biggest problem this morning is the fact that my dear friend is ill. I’m worried about her and that makes me edgy. I can’t go running to the hospital and entertain her for hours. I can’t dazzle her with my wit. I can’t even share with her the news about my new project. I have to wait.
Patiently
I hate that
Then again, it’s not all about me is it?
Guess I’ll go make some coffee, dress wee girls, clean the house, try to figure out what to do with my mother and wait for a call telling me my best friend is okay.
Sigh
Update 8:08 am: Friend will be staying another day in the hospital...
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Giddy, Really
My boy is home for spring break. Yes, I know everyone else get's spring break next week, but there are camps scheduled and groups with reservations, so he and the rest of the interns will be working.
One of the things that I love about my boy is his ability to be a huge, goofy, dork, just like his father. For whatever reason, I find this quality endearing…most of the time. In this case, it’s just plain funny. The boy and his room mates have produced a video and while it might be a wee bit juvenile it cracks me up and it will make sweet blackmail later in life. I can just see those grandbabies laughin’! (I wonder how you post something on YouTube?)
Yesterday was the birthday of not one but two nieces. They happen to be sisters. No, they are not twins. They were born on the same day, four years apart. How wild is that?
I sent each a txt, (how personal, snicker) wishing them a happy birthday. The younger of the two sent me a txt back asking who had sent the text…I assumed it was because only my phone number was listed with the text, then I considered that perhaps she was asking who it was, knowing full well it was me, and chastising me for not keeping in better touch with her.
And that little slam is definitely well deserved! Ouch!
That slam aside, an interesting opportunity has come my way and I am giddy with excitement. Giddy. It’s a writing opportunity. Gush! But more on this later. (Annie runs around her living room, snoopy dancing, while thinking of the amazing foreseeable future!)
Really people, it’s the little thing in life that make it worth living. I have been entangled with two wee tyrants for nearly ten months. The end is in sight…the light is beginning to shine at the end of this tunnel, and my fingers are itching, itching to get busy with some words! Giddy. Really!
I’ve posted new recipe on my recipe blog (This Mom Can Cook), I have yet to pick up Html for Dummies but it’s on my list, and I have to run the delightful Miss C to her writing class. Such is the life of a homeschooling mommy.
Monday, March 17, 2008
A Stronger Woman
I was...harsh with someone I love yesterday. I took a stand I've taken before, one that I don't necessarily regret taking. I do regret hurting her.
It's not the first time that I've smacked this individual with my "judgmental, opinionated, bitchy” thoughts on life, love and the pursuit of all that. This family is riddled with snickers, snorts, and otherwise unpleasant conversations pointed in my general direction.
So, why do I do it? Why do I care how she lives or loves? She isn’t my daughter, my sister, my mother. And, frankly, she doesn’t want to hear it anyway.
It’s because I love her. She told me once that I would mother the world, if I was given the opportunity. She’s right. But that doesn’t give me the right to hurt someone’s feelings.
Then last night I heard this song and it made me think of her. It helped me to realize that the reason I took the stand I took was because I want her to be A Stronger Woman .
So forgive me for being a bossy, pushy, see things my way, kinda girl...Cause you know I love you like one o' me own (don't you just feel sorry for C and J??)
Stronger Woman by Jewel
I guess you could say I'm one of those girls
That's always been with one of those guys
You know the type
Like right now, he sleeps while I write
But it's better than crying
I'm worn out from trying
From loving a man who always makes it clear
I'm not welcome here
Just till he's horny and hungry
or needs something cleaned
And you know what I mean
But not tonight
'Cause come the morning light, oh
I'm gonna love myself more than anyone else
Believe in me, even if someone can't see
The stronger woman in me
I'm going to be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
Won't lose myself again, never, no,
'Cause there's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman in me
Light bulbs buzz,
I get up
And head to my drawer
I wish there was more
I could say
Another fairytale fades to gray
I've lived on hope
Just like a child
Walking that mile
Faking that smile
All the while
Wishing my heart had wings
Well tonight, I'm going to be
The kind of woman I'd want my daughter to be, oh
I'm gonna love myself more than anyone else
Believe in me, even if someone can't see
There's a stronger woman in me
I'm gonna be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
I won't lose myself again, never, no
'Cause there's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman
This is me, packing up my bags
And this is me, headed for the door
And this is me, the best you ever had
I'm going to love myself
More than anyone else
Believe in me even if someone cannot see
There's a stronger woman in me
I'm going to be my own best friend
Stay with me till the end
Won't lose myself again, never, no
'Cause there's a stronger woman
A stronger woman
There's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman in me,
Yeah...
Countdown: 15 days
It's not the first time that I've smacked this individual with my "judgmental, opinionated, bitchy” thoughts on life, love and the pursuit of all that. This family is riddled with snickers, snorts, and otherwise unpleasant conversations pointed in my general direction.
So, why do I do it? Why do I care how she lives or loves? She isn’t my daughter, my sister, my mother. And, frankly, she doesn’t want to hear it anyway.
It’s because I love her. She told me once that I would mother the world, if I was given the opportunity. She’s right. But that doesn’t give me the right to hurt someone’s feelings.
Then last night I heard this song and it made me think of her. It helped me to realize that the reason I took the stand I took was because I want her to be A Stronger Woman .
So forgive me for being a bossy, pushy, see things my way, kinda girl...Cause you know I love you like one o' me own (don't you just feel sorry for C and J??)
Stronger Woman by Jewel
I guess you could say I'm one of those girls
That's always been with one of those guys
You know the type
Like right now, he sleeps while I write
But it's better than crying
I'm worn out from trying
From loving a man who always makes it clear
I'm not welcome here
Just till he's horny and hungry
or needs something cleaned
And you know what I mean
But not tonight
'Cause come the morning light, oh
I'm gonna love myself more than anyone else
Believe in me, even if someone can't see
The stronger woman in me
I'm going to be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
Won't lose myself again, never, no,
'Cause there's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman in me
Light bulbs buzz,
I get up
And head to my drawer
I wish there was more
I could say
Another fairytale fades to gray
I've lived on hope
Just like a child
Walking that mile
Faking that smile
All the while
Wishing my heart had wings
Well tonight, I'm going to be
The kind of woman I'd want my daughter to be, oh
I'm gonna love myself more than anyone else
Believe in me, even if someone can't see
There's a stronger woman in me
I'm gonna be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
I won't lose myself again, never, no
'Cause there's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman
This is me, packing up my bags
And this is me, headed for the door
And this is me, the best you ever had
I'm going to love myself
More than anyone else
Believe in me even if someone cannot see
There's a stronger woman in me
I'm going to be my own best friend
Stay with me till the end
Won't lose myself again, never, no
'Cause there's a stronger woman
A stronger woman
There's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman in me,
Yeah...
Countdown: 15 days
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Basking in the Glow of Silence
Hours have turned to days, and days to weeks. It seems my entire life these last ten months has been focused on time and the passing there of. It’s time to get up, time to eat, time to brush your teeth, time for Sesame Street, time to stop trying to kill your sister with a Lego, time for lunch, time for nap. You get the idea. There’s been a lot of time passing.
So, it’s a bit of a shock to my system to be sitting here under the warm glow of the lamp with time to kill – on a Thursday no less! I haven’t had a Thursday morning to myself since April. What caused this rift in the space time continuum you ask? One little sentence:
“I wish tonight was an overnight. I don’t feel like driving,” Grandpa Mike grumbled.
Apparently he didn’t only grumble to me yesterday afternoon as I dropped my foster daughters off for their Wednesday visit with their mom. He did a wee bit o’ grumbling to his daughter, who in turn called the case worker.
It may not seem miraculous to you, but considering that Bio-Mom has done everything in her power to tick off the entire Department of Human Service, her being granted an unscheduled over night with her girls is incredible. Yes, incredible in so many ways.
First, the Z-Monster wanted to stay over night with Bio-Mom. She knows she’s moving home in a few weeks and is looking forward to it. She’s had a hard time understanding why her 8-year-old brother has spent the night when she hasn’t.
Second, this morning I got up, flipped on the kitchen light, made Beloved a hot breakfast, heated the water for tea, and made his lunch. WITH THE LIGHT ON. Because of the layout of our house (the wee girls sleep in a room just off of the kitchen) I’ve had to make lunches in the faint glow of the kitchen nightlight so that wee girls don’t get out of bed at 5:20.
Third, Beloved has left for work. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet. The lights are on and I don’t feel the need to rush around and attempt to get a very quick shower before a small blonde girl stumbles out of bed to tell me that it’s light outside (we have a rule that they are not supposed to get up before the sun. It may seem odd, but The Destroyer will get up anywhere from 4:30 on.)
Fourth, I actually got some writing done yesterday afternoon. I have until September to finish this story up, but you know how quickly time passes. That and my main characters can’t decide how to get back together. They are destined to be together, but after all they’ve been through, can they put their stubborn pride aside? Only time and my key board will tell.
Please don’t think me heartless, even though I feel a bit heartless. I will miss those two little blonde tyrants when they leave and I’ll worry about their safety, but it’s really beyond my power to change what’s coming. Sometimes you just have to embrace the inevitable and move on.
From my perspective, peace and quiet isn’t really all bad.
Countdown: 20 days
So, it’s a bit of a shock to my system to be sitting here under the warm glow of the lamp with time to kill – on a Thursday no less! I haven’t had a Thursday morning to myself since April. What caused this rift in the space time continuum you ask? One little sentence:
“I wish tonight was an overnight. I don’t feel like driving,” Grandpa Mike grumbled.
Apparently he didn’t only grumble to me yesterday afternoon as I dropped my foster daughters off for their Wednesday visit with their mom. He did a wee bit o’ grumbling to his daughter, who in turn called the case worker.
It may not seem miraculous to you, but considering that Bio-Mom has done everything in her power to tick off the entire Department of Human Service, her being granted an unscheduled over night with her girls is incredible. Yes, incredible in so many ways.
First, the Z-Monster wanted to stay over night with Bio-Mom. She knows she’s moving home in a few weeks and is looking forward to it. She’s had a hard time understanding why her 8-year-old brother has spent the night when she hasn’t.
Second, this morning I got up, flipped on the kitchen light, made Beloved a hot breakfast, heated the water for tea, and made his lunch. WITH THE LIGHT ON. Because of the layout of our house (the wee girls sleep in a room just off of the kitchen) I’ve had to make lunches in the faint glow of the kitchen nightlight so that wee girls don’t get out of bed at 5:20.
Third, Beloved has left for work. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet. The lights are on and I don’t feel the need to rush around and attempt to get a very quick shower before a small blonde girl stumbles out of bed to tell me that it’s light outside (we have a rule that they are not supposed to get up before the sun. It may seem odd, but The Destroyer will get up anywhere from 4:30 on.)
Fourth, I actually got some writing done yesterday afternoon. I have until September to finish this story up, but you know how quickly time passes. That and my main characters can’t decide how to get back together. They are destined to be together, but after all they’ve been through, can they put their stubborn pride aside? Only time and my key board will tell.
Please don’t think me heartless, even though I feel a bit heartless. I will miss those two little blonde tyrants when they leave and I’ll worry about their safety, but it’s really beyond my power to change what’s coming. Sometimes you just have to embrace the inevitable and move on.
From my perspective, peace and quiet isn’t really all bad.
Countdown: 20 days
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
About that Party, Dude...
I didn't have a chance yesterday to tell you about this great party that started on March 7th. Now don't worry, we're still partying, you haven't missed a thing! The party runs through this Friday, March 14.
It's being hosted over at 5minutesformom.com. What a fun bunch of girls!
But wait, there's more!
Over at the party, you'll find links to over 1000 other bloggers. It's a great way to see and be seen!
But wait, there's even more!!
There are prizes and who among us doesn't love them a prize?
Here are my top three choices:
Number 96 - Three Good Pails from http://www.goodpails.com. These are darling and I think they'd make terrific gifts "bags" for my friends upcoming birthdays or maybe I'll keep them for myself :)
Number 100 - 3 books from Jill Norwood. Jill has a lovely site and is giving away books. I love me some books...really! http://www.jill-inc.blogspot.com/
Number 122 - scrapbook goodies from http://signsmiraclesandwonders.blogspot.com.
For now, however, I'll be mingling with some new friends and hoping to meet someone who can give me an idiots tour of HTML so that I can learn how to put links within my blog...gaaahhh...I hate being an idiot.
Party on Dude!
Monday, March 10, 2008
Walter's Been Exposed!
Saturday proved to be a real overhaul for poor, dear Walter. Honestly, when I made the appointment I hadn’t truly understood what it would entail. I suppose I’m a bit naïve when it comes to these type of examinations and procedures. It’s not that I am uninterested; I just had never given it much thought.
You can imagine my surprise when I walked into the room to find Walter, standing bare-naked, while Dr. Davis examined him.
Shocked does not begin to describe my emotions.
I stammered…I stuttered…
“Wow,” I blushed, “I…I had no idea…”
Dr. Davis, piano tuner extraordinaire, simply chuckled and continued to examine our dear Walter. He’d removed Walter’s top, side, and front panel, leaving him exposed and showing, ahem, all the dust, dirt, and cobwebs that had accumulated over the years. Poor baby.
For those of you who own pianos, I’m certain you will consider flinging your tuning fork at me when I admit that we’ve never (never, ever, never) had Walter tuned. He has been a member of our family for six maybe seven years and we’ve neglected him terribly.
Dr. Davis labored over Walter for four hours. FOUR HOURS that Saturday afternoon. Walter moaned, he groaned, and frankly, our heads pounded with each note. Holy metronome! The sounds that poor piano made left us all shaky and nervous.
At last Dr. Davis pronounced Walter healthy after tapping down his strings and giving him an A-440 tuning. He advised us to have him tuned again in six months. He also shared information about Walter’s linage, of which we had no idea. It seems that our dear Walter is an Aldrich, which meant next to nothing to me. He’s just Walter, the piano we never thought we’d own.
For those of you who don’t know, Aldrich is a step down from a better piano. In other words, Walter is a Geo versus a Honda; which is okay with us. Walter is an easy going, unassuming, guy. We love him despite his less than stellar appearance and even though he’s got a few scars, we find him to be a very handsome fellow.
Now our dear Walter dances with our dear Miss C, filling our home with delightful melodies such as Rondo Alla Turca, Fur Elise, and Blood Ritual/Moonlight Serenade (from Pirates of the Caribbean).
Even though we’ve abused and neglected you dear Walter, we love you and we are so happy you are feeling better.
Countdown: 24 days
You can imagine my surprise when I walked into the room to find Walter, standing bare-naked, while Dr. Davis examined him.
Shocked does not begin to describe my emotions.
I stammered…I stuttered…
“Wow,” I blushed, “I…I had no idea…”
Dr. Davis, piano tuner extraordinaire, simply chuckled and continued to examine our dear Walter. He’d removed Walter’s top, side, and front panel, leaving him exposed and showing, ahem, all the dust, dirt, and cobwebs that had accumulated over the years. Poor baby.
For those of you who own pianos, I’m certain you will consider flinging your tuning fork at me when I admit that we’ve never (never, ever, never) had Walter tuned. He has been a member of our family for six maybe seven years and we’ve neglected him terribly.
Dr. Davis labored over Walter for four hours. FOUR HOURS that Saturday afternoon. Walter moaned, he groaned, and frankly, our heads pounded with each note. Holy metronome! The sounds that poor piano made left us all shaky and nervous.
At last Dr. Davis pronounced Walter healthy after tapping down his strings and giving him an A-440 tuning. He advised us to have him tuned again in six months. He also shared information about Walter’s linage, of which we had no idea. It seems that our dear Walter is an Aldrich, which meant next to nothing to me. He’s just Walter, the piano we never thought we’d own.
For those of you who don’t know, Aldrich is a step down from a better piano. In other words, Walter is a Geo versus a Honda; which is okay with us. Walter is an easy going, unassuming, guy. We love him despite his less than stellar appearance and even though he’s got a few scars, we find him to be a very handsome fellow.
Now our dear Walter dances with our dear Miss C, filling our home with delightful melodies such as Rondo Alla Turca, Fur Elise, and Blood Ritual/Moonlight Serenade (from Pirates of the Caribbean).
Even though we’ve abused and neglected you dear Walter, we love you and we are so happy you are feeling better.
Countdown: 24 days
Blog Party Dude!
I've been invited to a party! Don't you just love a party? Okay, actually everyone's invited, cept them boys, it's a girl thing!
Part of joining the party is to introduce yourself, so, even though many of you already know me, here goes:
I am the sarcastic writer wanna be who is trapped in a mom body. I've spent years homeschooling my two lovely children and relearning Algebra. Recently, as in 10 months ago, we acquired two foster children, ages 4 and 2. Life on this ol' farm is far from dull.
Beloved and I have been married for just over 20 years. After nearly losing him last year to Diverticulits I am one happily married girl!
I'll post more later, but right now, there are two wee girls who want breakfast - NOW!
Thursday, March 06, 2008
He Was Just Visiting this Planet
The first time I heard his music I thought, "Ummm okay." It was different than your run of the mill Christian rock. In fact, he was different. He was Larry Norman; the Father of Christian Rock and Roll. His controversial songs spanned 15 years before the Jesus movement began. He was the original Jesus Freak and he shook the world of rock.
Larry Norman rubbed elbows with the movers, the shakers, and everyone in between including those inside and outside the music business. He wrote about politics, drugs, hypocrisy, free love, and everything else. Of the modern church he once said,
"The churches weren’t going to accept me looking like a street person with long hair and faded jeans. They did not like the music I was recording. And I had no desire to preach the gospel to the converted."
The song that I think was perhaps his most powerful was, I Wish We'd all Been Ready
1995 brought an album of Larry Norman's music performed by such artists as DC Talk, Rebecca St. James, and Audio Adrenaline, just to name a few. In 2001, along with Elvis, Larry was inducted into the Gospel Music Hall of Fame.
Beloved and our boy had the opportunity to see Larry live in concert just days before Beloved would return to the hospital for yet another surgery. In many ways we've felt a connection to this man whose only goal in life was to point others to Jesus Christ.
At long last Larry, you are not of this world. Rest in peace brother.
Seeing is Believing
I have seen the light! Actually, I’m seeing pretty much everything since I got new glasses. Having my eyes examined was long over due. I know this because of the way my niece would snicker every time I put my ultra hip, way cool, mid 90’s ROUND glasses on. Sure they were a bit scuffed up, but I could still see and wasn’t that the point?
With more than ten years between eye exams I decided it must be time. Fortunate for me the eye doctor was a seriously funny man. He commented on my old glasses and on the fact that my prescription really hadn’t changed much saying, “So the trip was pretty much a bust for you, although I made a tidy little fee. But at least you’ll get nifty new UPDATED frames and you’ll look far more presentable. ” This coming from a man so tall and thin if he turned sideways no one would see him. Seriously, he looked like a sheet paper in his white lab coat.
I then found myself before rows and rows and rows of frames. Round frames, square frames, skinny, fat, black, red and brown frames. It was frame heaven. But which one should I choose? The red ones? I’ve always threatened to wear uber hip spectacles with red frames. It would go with the pink hair…did I say pink, ha ha ha…yeah pink. That’s a totally different story and I’ll write about it as soon as I recover from the shock.
I hadn’t brought my overly critical teen, so I was on my own. The weight of choosing fell solely on my shoulders and I staggered under its weight. How could I pick cool specs on my own? I’m an idiot with no fashion sense! What was my family thinking by allowing me to leave the safety of my home to venture into the wide, wide world of eye fashion? This was going to be ugly. Simply ugly.
I did the only thing I could. I accosted a total stranger, explained my lack of critical teen, and asked her cruel opinion. She was happy to comply since she also has critical teens at home, four of them in fact (how she managed to escape to the mall without one of them in tow is a mystery that remains unsolved to this very day!).
Long story short, I got me some new, thin, uber hip eye wear. I just wish the rest of me looked this good!
In other news:
I bought a new purse. I know, I know, I know, lame! But you simply DO NOT understand. My mother, God bless her short little body, gave me a new purse for my birthday. In September. Which, I’m sorry to tell you mom, (tiny whispery voice)”I don’t like it”. I’ve been dragging this ugly, limp, dog pooh (yes, dog pooh) colored bag around with me since SEPTEMBER. Why didn’t I buy a new purse sooner?
It’s complicated.
I’m a purse snob. I have to love, love, love a purse before I buy it. It also has to be the right price. I soooo hate spendy bags that are just going to end up sitting on some public restroom floor, filled with used Starbucks napkins, and empty chewing gum wrappers. I’m sorry, but really girls, it’s just a purse. Except when I’m trying to buy one, then it some how morphs into the search for the Holy Grail.
I looked at the mall. $600.00 for a purse? It’s a purse, not a laptop. It didn’t speak French, or come with an alarm. It was a small bag with handles. I think it was made out of yak hair or something equally odd. The Yak purse was yucky in so many ways that I honestly wonder if it was smuggled in there by an ex-employee baring a grudge.
I browsed through Target, Ewwww! Enough said. Out of desperation, I even looked at the local drug store, but they only stocked my Omi’s purse however; black, beige, or dog pooh brown, with pockets so large you might just find Jimmy Hoffa squirreled away in one. Needless to say, I continued to haul around the ugly bag because I had nothing else.
A good purse is an important part of my life. In fact it carries my life. Wipes, Pull-up, gum, wallet, keys, extra batteries, pens, bills, lip balm, band-aid, and other assorted important doodads.
Then…last night…I found it…
It’s red, it’s not too big, and it has plenty of pockets and hiding places. Most importantly it was on sale for 40% off. It matches my iPod and my cell phone.
Isn’t it lovely?
With more than ten years between eye exams I decided it must be time. Fortunate for me the eye doctor was a seriously funny man. He commented on my old glasses and on the fact that my prescription really hadn’t changed much saying, “So the trip was pretty much a bust for you, although I made a tidy little fee. But at least you’ll get nifty new UPDATED frames and you’ll look far more presentable. ” This coming from a man so tall and thin if he turned sideways no one would see him. Seriously, he looked like a sheet paper in his white lab coat.
I then found myself before rows and rows and rows of frames. Round frames, square frames, skinny, fat, black, red and brown frames. It was frame heaven. But which one should I choose? The red ones? I’ve always threatened to wear uber hip spectacles with red frames. It would go with the pink hair…did I say pink, ha ha ha…yeah pink. That’s a totally different story and I’ll write about it as soon as I recover from the shock.
I hadn’t brought my overly critical teen, so I was on my own. The weight of choosing fell solely on my shoulders and I staggered under its weight. How could I pick cool specs on my own? I’m an idiot with no fashion sense! What was my family thinking by allowing me to leave the safety of my home to venture into the wide, wide world of eye fashion? This was going to be ugly. Simply ugly.
I did the only thing I could. I accosted a total stranger, explained my lack of critical teen, and asked her cruel opinion. She was happy to comply since she also has critical teens at home, four of them in fact (how she managed to escape to the mall without one of them in tow is a mystery that remains unsolved to this very day!).
Long story short, I got me some new, thin, uber hip eye wear. I just wish the rest of me looked this good!
In other news:
I bought a new purse. I know, I know, I know, lame! But you simply DO NOT understand. My mother, God bless her short little body, gave me a new purse for my birthday. In September. Which, I’m sorry to tell you mom, (tiny whispery voice)”I don’t like it”. I’ve been dragging this ugly, limp, dog pooh (yes, dog pooh) colored bag around with me since SEPTEMBER. Why didn’t I buy a new purse sooner?
It’s complicated.
I’m a purse snob. I have to love, love, love a purse before I buy it. It also has to be the right price. I soooo hate spendy bags that are just going to end up sitting on some public restroom floor, filled with used Starbucks napkins, and empty chewing gum wrappers. I’m sorry, but really girls, it’s just a purse. Except when I’m trying to buy one, then it some how morphs into the search for the Holy Grail.
I looked at the mall. $600.00 for a purse? It’s a purse, not a laptop. It didn’t speak French, or come with an alarm. It was a small bag with handles. I think it was made out of yak hair or something equally odd. The Yak purse was yucky in so many ways that I honestly wonder if it was smuggled in there by an ex-employee baring a grudge.
I browsed through Target, Ewwww! Enough said. Out of desperation, I even looked at the local drug store, but they only stocked my Omi’s purse however; black, beige, or dog pooh brown, with pockets so large you might just find Jimmy Hoffa squirreled away in one. Needless to say, I continued to haul around the ugly bag because I had nothing else.
A good purse is an important part of my life. In fact it carries my life. Wipes, Pull-up, gum, wallet, keys, extra batteries, pens, bills, lip balm, band-aid, and other assorted important doodads.
Then…last night…I found it…
It’s red, it’s not too big, and it has plenty of pockets and hiding places. Most importantly it was on sale for 40% off. It matches my iPod and my cell phone.
Isn’t it lovely?
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Open Mouth, Insert Foot
Do you ever say funny (stupid) things when you’re nervous, worried, or just a dork? I do and it’s usually not because I’m nervous or worried. It’s usually because I am a dork. Sadly, it often happens in front of other people. Sigh. Sometimes being an idiot girl is a hard row to hoe.
Take, for example, my recent visit to a friend in the hospital. She’d just come out of surgery and was in recovery. She smiled at her DH. He smiled at her. She smiled at me. I smiled at her. She smiled at her mother. Mom smiled back. Then she noticed that something was sticking out of her nose. Her eyes crossed as she tried to focus on whatever was wedged in her nostril.
“What is that?” she asked.
Without missing a beat, and I’m not kidding, I said,
“It’s your nose tampon.”
Yep, I still can’t believe I said that. Sigh. In my defense, I think one of the staff may have said that first, but now I cannot remember. I just know that all eyes turned my way after those four words left my lips. Sigh.
If you fast forward in the day, you’d see me standing behind this woman’s mother, making faces, rolling my eyes, being overall juvenile. Lest you judge me too fiercely, it did make the patient smile in that secret sister kinda way.
It is one thing to be an idiot in front of people who know and love or at least tolerate you. It is a completely different color horse to be an idiot in public. Take today, for example. I was standing in line at the grocery store, just minding my own business when it hit me. It was a wave of recently smoked dope that enveloped me.
“Geez! Someone smells like pot,” I coughed.
Now at the right time and in the right place, that statement could have passed for (a) funny, because everyone in the room smells like pot, or (b) serious, as in which kid had a date with Mary Jane during lunch?
This, unfortunately, was not that time or that place. Just ask the seriously unfriendly young man standing in front of me. He didn’t think I was funny. Which I find ironic, because for as stoned as he must have been, he should have thought I was hysterical! We could have shared a bag of Oreos and laughed for hours over that little outburst.
He just threw daggers from his red, overly dilated eyes at me. I watched him as he left the store, Oreos in hand. Then I turned to the checker and said,
“You know. If you breathe really deep you could probably get high just from standing here.”
The checker gave me the once over, decided that I was indeed an idiot girl, and chose not to answer.
However, my favorite idiot girls comment:
“I think that’s French John.”
I assure you; everyone in the car sat in stunned silence…then burst out laughing. My son had seen a business sign on the side of the road which read, “Ala Cars” to which he made the quirky remark,
“Look, must be a Muslim car company.”
Everyone else got it…Everyone but me…
“I think that’s French John.”
GAAAA!
If nothing else I am good for a laugh and I can laugh at myself. Trust me, we laughed for miles on that one!
Count down: Thirty-days
Take, for example, my recent visit to a friend in the hospital. She’d just come out of surgery and was in recovery. She smiled at her DH. He smiled at her. She smiled at me. I smiled at her. She smiled at her mother. Mom smiled back. Then she noticed that something was sticking out of her nose. Her eyes crossed as she tried to focus on whatever was wedged in her nostril.
“What is that?” she asked.
Without missing a beat, and I’m not kidding, I said,
“It’s your nose tampon.”
Yep, I still can’t believe I said that. Sigh. In my defense, I think one of the staff may have said that first, but now I cannot remember. I just know that all eyes turned my way after those four words left my lips. Sigh.
If you fast forward in the day, you’d see me standing behind this woman’s mother, making faces, rolling my eyes, being overall juvenile. Lest you judge me too fiercely, it did make the patient smile in that secret sister kinda way.
It is one thing to be an idiot in front of people who know and love or at least tolerate you. It is a completely different color horse to be an idiot in public. Take today, for example. I was standing in line at the grocery store, just minding my own business when it hit me. It was a wave of recently smoked dope that enveloped me.
“Geez! Someone smells like pot,” I coughed.
Now at the right time and in the right place, that statement could have passed for (a) funny, because everyone in the room smells like pot, or (b) serious, as in which kid had a date with Mary Jane during lunch?
This, unfortunately, was not that time or that place. Just ask the seriously unfriendly young man standing in front of me. He didn’t think I was funny. Which I find ironic, because for as stoned as he must have been, he should have thought I was hysterical! We could have shared a bag of Oreos and laughed for hours over that little outburst.
He just threw daggers from his red, overly dilated eyes at me. I watched him as he left the store, Oreos in hand. Then I turned to the checker and said,
“You know. If you breathe really deep you could probably get high just from standing here.”
The checker gave me the once over, decided that I was indeed an idiot girl, and chose not to answer.
However, my favorite idiot girls comment:
“I think that’s French John.”
I assure you; everyone in the car sat in stunned silence…then burst out laughing. My son had seen a business sign on the side of the road which read, “Ala Cars” to which he made the quirky remark,
“Look, must be a Muslim car company.”
Everyone else got it…Everyone but me…
“I think that’s French John.”
GAAAA!
If nothing else I am good for a laugh and I can laugh at myself. Trust me, we laughed for miles on that one!
Count down: Thirty-days
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