Pieces of Time

Blogged Out

2007-03-09T18:48:00.000-05:00

The time has come, as can be seen from my lack of blogging, for me to pretty much quit this. I've enjoyed it immensely, but the pain from typing is so acute that it cancels out most of the enjoyment I feel when I write.

I'll check in on good days, when I can, but for the most part, consider me blogged out. To the few who did read this site, I send a very big thank you. I've loved reading your own blogs, and will probably continue to do so. That requires only a few keystrokes from me. Typing here on my own is much more labor intense, and my poor fingertips just can't seem to handle it. I've tried alternate methods, such as gloves, but I spend too much time correcting my errors.

I won't say goodbye, as I am a firm believer in prayer. Everything for a reason. Besides, goodbye is so final, and I honestly feel this is just a "see ya later."

xoxo

Neglecting You

2007-02-24T12:45:00.000-05:00

I've been very neglectful and haven't even checked in to my blog, let alone post. Bad blogger. To my credit, I do have a good excuse. My sister Claire drove up from Homestead FL to surprise me for my birthday. She arrived on 2/11 and just left on Wednesday. I am still recuperating. I miss her. :(

I'll tell y'all about it later. Right now I'm cleaning. Granted, blogging is much more fun, but the house has threatened to pack up and move if I don't show it some attention. Oh...and the laundry said it would picket out on the front lawn. What WOULD the neighbors think!

Love to all, including me!

How To Watch a Scary Movie

2007-02-10T11:12:00.000-05:00

This is what a 12 year old looks like when she's been caught watching a scary movie, even if it IS 9:30ish in the morning. A little background information. The Grudge, with Sarah Michelle Geller, was on last night. Liz wanted to watch it, but I am just not into scary movies. Yes, it was regular TV so it was edited big time, but that's just me. Nope. I told her no, she couldn't watch it either, as I just didn't see the sense in terrorizing one's self right before bedtime. Well, all went okay, Liz fell asleep, and I hit my room to watch reruns of L & O. I get up this morning and I can hear her TV on, so I know she's up. I vacuum the living room and swiffer the kitchen floor, and pop into her room to remind her that today is general cleaning day. I expect her to dust, vacuum. and generally straighten up. This is what I found. I about cracked up. She's watching I Know What You Did Last Summer and all you can see is the top of her head and eyes bigger than my coffee cup saucer! Even at 9:30 in the morning, a scary movie is a scary movie. I think vacuuming will be a welcome change of pace, don't you?

Going with the Flow

2007-02-03T09:59:00.000-05:00

A new friend of mine mentioned how she likes that I go with the flow. It got me to thinking, and when I think, I write, so y'all are stuck with me while I work this thought out. Going with the flow. What does it really mean, and why do so many people fight it? It seems that so many people think 'going with the flow' means to relinquish control over a situation, when in truth, it is the exact opposite. There is more control required in not worrying about things than there is in letting things make you nuts. I don't want to cloud your perceptions with my ideas on this, so I'll leave it at this for the moment. Think about it. Then get back to me.

Snow Break!

2007-01-29T14:17:00.000-05:00

Six sets of shoes and scarves and whatnot on the back porch, six mugs of hot chocolate gone, six pairs of socks tumbling in the dryer...and one Disney movie. Six bowls of spaghetti and six glasses of sugar free cherry Kool Aid. Another movie goes in. Six kids playing football with a knitted hat and one adult huddled in the corner typing furiously and trying to pretend it's not noisy. Six friends spending the day together. Snow breaks are fun!

Just Hanging Out

2007-01-26T08:13:00.000-05:00

I've been remiss on updating my progress in "get healthy" land. I've actually been doing really well!. I do two miles a day on my Gazelle, split into two sessions, and I do my ab exercises (takes 5 minutes) even though I hate them.

I haven't checked my weight because I don't care to know what it is. I'll find out at my next Dr's appt. anyway. I HAVE noticed a marked difference in my clothing, and that means more than any scale. I feel good, so that is also a more important marker than any scale readout.

I feel fierce!

While my sugars still aren't where I want them to be, they are more even across the board, and that is better than up/down up/down up/down. Yo-yo'ing is a no no in diabetes town.

The real test will be my next A1C. We'll see!

I'll write a real blog entry later today. For now, since I do this for me and not for anyone else, I felt good enough with myself and needed to write it down! Yay ME!!!

ReAffirmation

2007-01-21T12:29:00.000-05:00

Liz and I went to The Cup last night to see a band called For Christ, and I was blown away. This band came up from Atlanta to sing and minister to us, even though their base player couldn't make it. His wife had just (that weekend) had a miscarriage, after trying for so many years, to have a child. Even though he couldn't make it, he sent a note, saying how important it was that the group go on. That The Message they share was bigger than anything going on in their lives, and how nothing, even adversity or heartbreak, could or should stop it.

It made me think long and hard about how my own life seems to be taking shape, and how my faith, once so strong and true, seems to have wavered. Could I do this? Could I care more about others than myself, and speak the Word, no matter what was going on in my life? Can I truly call myself a Christian, if all I do is talk the talk, but be unwilling to walk the walk? I don't know. I honestly don't know. I do know that, as we stood in a circle, 50 something strong, my prayers were honest. Dear Lord, I need your help. I cannot do it alone, and I shouldn't do it alone. I know I feel a connection to You, but am I willing to show that in all aspects of my life? It isn't just about belief. It isn't just about being saved. It isn't even about religion. It is about making my faith in You so strong as to get this feeling that I have no choice but to shout it from the mountaintops. I have the answer! I know the way!

Can I do it? I tell others about turning over everything to Him. Everything. That whatever happens, good or bad, there is a reason, and we are not to question, even when the request shakes our very core. Pastor Walker once said something to the effect of: Do everything as if God were sitting beside you. You, who come here on Sunday and raise your hands to Him, and then go on with your lives as if he only commands one day from you. Would you do the things and say the things you do if God were one of your friends and there? Well, God IS one of your friends. God IS there. Just because no one else sees, does it make it okay when we don't always act as we should? If we had a new love in our life, the joy we get from wanting to be around them touches every little thing we do. Well, that is how it is supposed to be with Him. Dress and act and do as if our love for Him was new and joyous and the most important thing in our lives. A relationship with You is what I want, not just a casual conversation. I'm trying, but that nagging little voice in the back of my head says my trying isn't enough.

What is enough? Nothing is enough. Nothing ever can be enough. Dear Lord, I ask you to please help me through this. To please help me find the joy that I had. I know everything cannot be wonderful, and I'm not expecting that, but everything SHOULD be You. Help me make every breathing moment I have about You. Help me to not worry about what others around me think, especially when I am worshiping You. Help me to see through the ones who are the Sunday Christians. Help me to not be one. Help me find You again. I know You're there, waiting patiently on the sidelines. I know You as one I turn to, but I want to know You as a I would know a best friend, a new lover, a confident. I want everything to be about You, as it should. God, help me please. I feel as if I've drifted again, and I think constantly about how I miss You. Help me to cast out all doubt about what or why I am... I am because of You.

Help me.

Color Coordinated

2007-01-14T14:29:00.000-05:00

I caught a pic the other day of Liz and my niece, who had come over during a school-out snow day. Liz was (and is) still down on the couch, healing from a back injury. I thought it was kind of cute how they both matched, in a mixed up sort of way. When you factor in the fruit juice bars and the pillows Liz is on, it looks like someone just threw down a bunch of Sorbet containers in my living room!

AAARRRGGGHHH!

2007-01-12T10:16:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'm going nuts. Liz, my youngest is currently down (down, as in bed) with a fractured tail bone (ouch!) so that leaves her plenty of time to drive me crazy. Crazy with questions. "Because I said so" seems so old school, even though I am a firm believer in dictatorship where it applies to issues in my house.

The current bruhaha? Makeup. She wants to wear it. I want to keep her face freshly scrubbed. She doesn't have any (makeup), with the exception of lip gloss things (lots of those) but she wants some. Not happening. Nope. If I have to hear one more time how I let Sam wear makeup at her age (as if!) I'll scream. That seems to be the issue lately. I let Sam do things before she, Liz, can. They don't cover this stuff in the handbook.

Sam and Liz are 10.5 years apart. Big gap. Because of this gap, Liz was kind of brought up around older kids. Good kids with good morals, but older kids nonetheless. She was exposed to teen stuff early. Don't get me wrong... I didn't let HER go to the mall at 6 just because her 16 yro sister got to go, but you get my point. Sibling rivalry. I thought it would stop once Sam moved out to live on her own. I should have known better. I have three sisters.

Liz is 12 now. Twelve is too young to do a lot of things. Twelve is too young to go to the mall without Mom. Twelve is too young to go to the movies without an adult. Twelve is too young to wear makeup. Twelve is too young to die, which will happen if she keeps this pushing up.

I have given this considerable thought. Like I said, I could go the route "because I said so," but I think this issue of entitlement just because her older sister got to do things needs addressed on a more indepth level.

So... I am preparing myself. I am going to have *the talk today. Parents do not have to treat each child equally, or what the kids would call fairly. Children are not the same, so why should the same treatment apply to all? Each child is an individual, and each problem or issue should be addressed individually. What might have been fine for Sam at the ripe old age of 13 or 14 is not necessarily bad for Liz at the age of 12, and the reverse is true as well. What Sam got to do at 12 might not be in the best interest of Liz at her current age of 12. When deciding what applies to each incident, we as parents have to take into consideration the maturity level of the child we are dealing with, right? How the child handles certain things, and how the child might react, or feel, should count. I love my children very much, but if I'm honest with myself, I'll admit that things are tougher this second time around. However, today's popular parenting styles make me feel like I owe Liz some type of explanation, since she has asked me so seriously... why why why???

I look down this rough draft of my blog (where I think best) and see my entry about how to approach the "how come I can't...she did!" syndrome, and I realize that I have written as if addressing my old faculty buddies. Great. Talk right over her head Carye. Way to handle the issue. So....what to do?

"BECAUSE I SAID SO!!!" is looking pretty good.

Snow Day

2007-01-10T00:19:00.000-05:00

We got an unexpected visitor today. Two inches of snow. Beautiful. Two inches doesn't seem like a lot, but that practically shuts down the entire city, as these mountain roads are deadly when there is any snow or ice to contend with. Schools closed down early, and will probably either start late or be closed tomorrow. Stores are filled with people who think this is the next three week blizzard, and that they will never see a loaf of bread again. So silly.

We are warm and cozy in our little home, watching the flakes fly by from the window. Soon they will be nothing but a pool of memories and the skies will turn blue, the air will breathe a hint of warmth, and things will be back to normal here. Until then, a little bit of winter magic seems awfully nice.

Bouncing

2007-01-06T00:59:00.000-05:00

Every once in a while you need to not take life so seriously, and just get out there and bounce!

Dying to Live

2007-01-04T10:11:00.000-05:00

With each new year, we all seem to set ourselves up for failure by making resolutions we have every intention of keeping, but can't. I'm no different, and do the same thing.

You know the drill:

1) Lose the weight
2) Get in better shape
3) Stop smoking
4) Realize chocolate and coffee are not alone as a food group

Again, I am no different, but the circumstances are. Living with diabetes, and the complications it can sometimes bring (and has brought), is no piece of cake, but it's easier if you work at it. I haven't been working at it quite as hard as I should. Heck, I put *working hard* away months ago. Well, I made some resolutions of my very own this year.

1) I resolve to exercise 30-45 minutes 3-5 times a week (trying for 4-6). I have to. Not for weight (which is a great result of exercise, and Lord knows I need to), but for health reasons. Exercise brings down sugar levels, regulates insulin, and helps increase circulation.

My exercise will take the form of:

a) Blast Off! tape 3-4 times a week (low impact/moderate cardio) 30 mins
b) Gazelle (no impact on feet - yay!!! and good for my DPN!) 5 times a week 15 mns each

2) I resolve to eat breakfast, even though it kills me. I resolve to make that breakfast healthier by:

a) Eating Special K (low GI) w/berries, or
b) Eating Steel-cut Oatmeal w/berries, or
c) Eating 2-3 oz lean protein w/greens (on days no morning workout)
d) Eating SB home made morning muffins (more of a mini quiche-yum!)

3) I resolve to use my darn crockpot more so I don't have an excuse for "what's for dinner." I used to do weekend cooking sessions, and always had the makings of a quick, healthy dinner just a freezer away. I don't do this anymore, and I've no excuse other than laziness. I resolve to steer clear of most processed foods, even if they are cheaper. Cheaper isn't always better.

4) I resolve to be careful of my portions. Nothing is taboo in moderation, but serves 4 really means serves 4, not serves 2 with a spoonful left over.

5) I resolve to put me first. I cannot be of any good to anyone if I am not good to myself first.

6) I resolve to check my sugars every morning first thing and set my alarm to do so, since I seem to forget (or I subconsciously use that as an excuse). It should be done 2-4 times a day for me, but I can't seem to manage even one lately. I think it's because I hate what I see when I do, and I am totally to blame, since I've managed sugars quite well in the past.

7) I resolve to drink more water. Drink water until I float out the door. I love water. I just hate OUR water, unless it is ice cold and has a slice of lemon or lemon flavoring. I will keep a big pitcher of water in the fridge at all times, and I will keep sugar free lemonade (just a pinch is perfect) handy. I will cut back on coffee even though it hurts (and yes, it does...I loves me my coffee).

Due to DPN, I have no feeling in my feet (except the pain DPN brings on). I am fast losing the ability to use my hands, and my kidneys are not real happy with me either. I still consider myself blessed, as my medications keep everything to a moderate roar, and most times I have a decent day. What's that story about complaining about no shoes until I met a man who had no feet? Well, that's me. I still have my feet, so what's to complain about? Not much, really, yet I manage to do so quite verbally as of late. Well, that's going to change too.

I can live with diabetes, and the complications it has brought to my life, but I'll be damned if I'm going to die by it.

Saying Goodbye to the Old....

2007-01-02T06:20:00.000-05:00

...and saying hello to the new. My baby. My last born. My child of light and love and laughter...is growing up. She met a boy. It all started at The Encouraging Cup (of my Fathers House), a Christian coffee house that showcases Christian bands. My sister invited us to a dinner to celebrate the upcoming New Year, and I know a few people at the Cup, so I said yes.

We arrive and more introductions are made, dinner is set up, and then in walks a friend of my Sister, dragging her younger 14 year old brother. Oh boy. The kid looks like a young Ashton Kutcher, shaggy brown hair, dreamy brown eyes and all. Suddenly, the rest of the world didn't exist...and the only thing in the room was my child and Mr. Dreamy. They talked for six hours. SIX hours! He asked if he could ask her out. Asked ME directly. Oh boy. My answer? We will see...with a chaperone, it's possible. Phone numbers were exchanged (with permissions) and my wide-eyed child and Mr. Dreamy parted company.

After a late rising the next day, my child turns on her phone. It rings no more than 30 seconds later. Mr. Dreamy couldn't wait to talk, and had called "like a million times trying to reach you!"

...and it begins. The changing of the guard, from pig-tailed little girl to giggly, gangly-legged young woman. I've walked this path before, with the first one, but somehow it all seems strange and new this time. Perhaps because my heart knows this is the final journey and there's no turning back. Hold on to the remnants of childhood as long as you can, and drag them kicking and screaming back to the playgrounds. Strap them onto the teeter totter and make them remember that childhood only comes once. When it's gone...it's gone.

I watch my young one, and I'm proud..and a little scared.

I'd like to thank the Academy......

2006-12-30T10:29:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's *weird feelings* time today. Don't know why but I've learned to quit fighting it and just let it be.

I saw the comment you, Queenie, left on my blog. Yes, I'm blogging again. You, Ivy and Heather are totally to blame, and I love you for that. I quit worrying about what to say, and just say it. IF they (the powers that blog stalk) come across it and don't like it, they just don't have to click back.

Thank you.

You're such an inspiration and I don't think I take the time to tell you that. I'm a sucky friend, but I do try and make up for it.

To Heather, Ivy & Sonia (in alphabetical order). I'd like to take this time to thank you, the blogger academy, for telling me I could do this, showing me how it's done, then coming back to check on me.

High five ladies. High five.

The Ties that Bind.

2006-12-23T11:37:00.000-05:00

Liz, Shannon & Josh (in that order in the picture) are best buds. Serious best buds. They do almost everything together. They sit on the bus together, they call each other on the phone, they go to skate night together, they all go back and forth to each others' houses, etc. They only thing they don't do together is Church and that is only because Shannon and his Mom go to a different Church than the rest of us. That's Josh's Mom (Theresa) and his baby sister (baby monster if you ask him, LOL) Allie along with yours truly.

Last weekend, Shannon and Josh were over my house when Theresa called and we all decided to go to dinner. Impromptu kind of thing. Shannon's Mom was working so Theresa had Shannon, and a quick phone call to me and off we went. Fat Buddy's here we come. BBQ. My kind of place. We get there and they are closed. Early Christmas party for their workers. How nice... some places don't do that. We thought that was cool even though we had to pick another place. Josh came up with shrimp, so we piled in our two cars and raced over to Red Lobster. We couldn't even get in the parking lot, let alone the door. Every restaurant on Restaurant Alley was packed, which isn't unusual for a weekend evening in Asheville, but we are talking seriously packed. So Theresa suggested Longhorn, which was just down the street. A little pricey for me, but what the hay....let's treat ourselves.

We get the kids back in the cars (not necessarily in the right one either) and we are off again! Longhorn is busy but they are worth the wait. We have a table for six in less than 10 minutes. Not bad for a Saturday night. Steak, ribs, potatoes and salads all around and throw in a Texas T'Onion for good measure. Cellphones are whipped out, pictures are taken, laughter is shared and a full tummy is had by all. The checks come and Miss Smartiepants (Theresa) grabs mine and won't give it back. Merry Christmas to us. They are leaving Christmas Eve day to go spend time with family and won't be back for five days, and this is her present to us. How sweet. Okay, plans are made... New Years at my house. Shannon and his Mom, Theresa and her brood, myself and mine.... we will have tidbits and sparkling cider and we will all ring in the New Year together as friends and a self-made family. The clink of water glasses all around seals the deal.

TAGGED!

2006-12-21T15:23:00.000-05:00

I've been tagged by the gorgeous Heather (Cantalyssa). I really am coming up in the blog world, LOL! Let's see... five things most don't know about me. Gee, is this the time to let real secrets out???

1) I used to play guitar. Very well, in fact. Concert level. Both classical and flamenco were my choice styles, but I can do a mean accoustical backup when necessary. I play with all five fingers on both hands (well, four on the left, to be honest). I also played piano, but I definitely cannot call myself proficient at that. Guitar...yes, I was proficient. Hell, I was damn good at one time!

2) I used to be a wild woman in my twenties, and right up until 35 smacked me in the face. We won't go into detail, but let it be said that I was not always this responsible, staid person.

3) I liked chicken liver for a brief time. I know, I know.... but I hated it until I was pregnant with my first, then I craved it like crazy. Hate it now. So does my first born. I craved ribs during my second pregnancy... baby backs with tons of sauce...and ate them every chance I got. My poor husband was always having to go get them. Now my young one craves them, and could eat them right off the cow now, if the cow held still. Funny how that goes.

4) I wanted to be an actor. A stage actor. Song and dance thrown in for good measure. I love the stage. The feel of it, the look of it, the smell of the face paint and the musty smell of the curtains. The green room (which isn't always green), the "marks" on the floor. Singing in front of all those people was easy... all you can see are lights. The emotions one can run through in a single act. Love love love it. Miss it more.

5) I smoke like a chimney. Not in the house. Never in the house. On the back porch. Yes, I know... it's only logistics, and all of it is bad, but I can't drink and I don't do drugs and dang it, sex has been out for awhile. Don't take away my ciggies quite yet. I will take care of it myself, in my own time.

I would tag my own people, but sadly, I don't have enough peoples to tag. My peoples are email loopies, with whom I've looped for years, and who I adore. Most don't blog, and the ones that do have already done this. So... until I develop a more extensive readership, this tag ends with me. Now don't get me wrong... I don't blog for others.. I blog for me, but it would sure be nice to know I am not alone in my little world. It would be nice to know the voices I hear really do come from others. Thanks to Margo, Sahara, Ivy and Heather for deeming me worthy of a read. Thanks to Heather and Sonia for making me want to do this more (write). How wonderful it feels.

2006-12-14T11:06:00.000-05:00

Evil. Plain evil. I purchased a bag of these horrid little candies. It sits in a bigger bag, along with other stocking stuffers, hiding under my bed and awaiting the quiet hours of Christmas morning, when it will make it's way to the fancy footwear hung by the TV with care.

I can't sleep. I go to bed and I KNOW it calls to me, softly but persistently. It knows I am there just as much as I know it is there, and I SWEAR I can hear it chuckle when it thinks that sound will blend with that of the television.

If you thought potato chips were bad with their crafty abilities to always make you eat more than one, you haven't met Mr. Peanut Butter Kiss.

EEEEEEVIL!

Time Marches On....

2006-12-14T00:38:00.000-05:00

...and eventually, it marches across your face! I believe that was a line ( or close to it) said by Dolly Parton. Pretty woman, that Dolly.

I am in a pensive mood tonight. I think that I've overdone the past few days, but it was so wonderful to be up out of the bed, out of the house, and out amongst adults. I haven't stopped smiling since Monday, and people are starting to stare and mumble. I literally waved to most of the other strangers at the Mall. The Mall... a bad word. A place I avoid more than health food. A necessary evil during this shopping season. I went. I saw. I freaked people out. I kid you not, I smiled and waved and laughed at almost everyone that I passed. Some smiled back, some ignored me, then there were the few that looked at me like I had escaped from the local insane asylum. I didn't (and don't) care. It was good to be human again.

Tuesday caught up with me and I took cat naps most of the day, but the smile never left my face. Tuesday night my best friend, who just happens to be a sister of mine, calls. I miss her. We don't talk nearly often enough anymore. We have been known to call each other at 10pm and talk until way past midnight without even realizing that time has passed. Time again....always marching.

Wednesday morning dawns, and I am out among the fray, in search of some missing items needed to complete my shopping lists. A much needed cup of coffee from the booth at Books-a-Million (and okay, two books later) and I am fortified and back out in jungle land. Somebody hand me a machete.

Here it is Wednesday night and I go to read Heather, Ivy & Queenie's blogs. I love their blogs. I even stalk Kathy T & Margo, just because I can link from Heather, Ivy or Queenies (lol). Lo and behold, I'm a LINK! I've made it to the big time folks. I've been blogstalked.

Thanks, friends. My smile just got bigger, and I didn't think that possible.

2006-12-10T20:12:00.000-05:00

This is what happens when you aren't up to snuff yet, but try and get the Christmas decorations going.

Liz put up the tree last night. It looks okay. Her friend Josh came over tonight. They decided to put up the lights outside. Then they decided that the extra outside lights would look great. INSIDE.

Me in my nyquil trance, thought it a grand idea! Doesn't it look great! Oh, I even wrote a song today. Well, I wrote the lyrics then copied the melody, but I think I can be forgiven. Everybody get out their karaoke equipment now!

(...sung to I Feel Pretty )

I feel HUMAN.

Almost HUMAN!

I feel better, I got back my wit!

and I pity

anyone ..who had what I had..

SHIT!

I feel normal

Almost normal

and I'm thankful my Lizzie is well!

Cause this virus

makes you feel..just like you've been to

HELL!

See the pasty face in the mirror there

See the tissues all on the floor

oh so many pills

oh so many ills

oh so many chills

WHERE ARE ALL THE THRILLS????

I feel better

so much better

and I think I will live after alllllll!

But I've missed you

and was ready to start climbing

THE WALL

I am back now

yes, I'm back now

so you better start checking your BLOG!!!

cause I'm back now

but still drinking Nyquil like
it is GROG!

Who Messed With My Clock???

2006-12-05T12:01:00.000-05:00

I had all these good intentions. Heck, I seem to live by good intentions. I got up, feeling a little less like a snot machine, dressed and took both my child and the neighbor kids to wait at the bus stop in a nice warm car. It was 24 outside, with a windchill of 14. COLD. I came back home and made another cup of coffee (yum) and sat on the end of my bed. Big mistake.

What was to be nothing more than taking off my shoes to replace them with fuzzy warm slippers turned into a very Rip Van Winklish nap. Next thing I know it's 11:42am and UPS is banging at the door (and I have a door bell...geesh!).

I HATE being sick. I was going to do laundry. Oh heck. I was going to mop the floors, and dust and even ignore my medication and run the evil *looks like heavy machinery* vacuum. I was going to make a killer spaghetti sauce and let it simmer all day on the back of the stove.....in a crock pot of course.

Dinner is not going to go on as planned (for shame!). Perhaps my dear friend Heather will let me mooch and borrow a can of vienna sausages, LOL!

WTH????

2006-12-04T08:24:00.000-05:00

I'm still feeling like someone poured oatmeal inside my head, then hit the *blend button. I've got so much to do and the time is getting real short. Things driving me crazy right now:

1) Laundry. I HATE HATE HATE getting backed up because then it is totally impossible to ever catch up. My poor child was down to two pairs of socks and had to ask for clean underwear.

2) People who call you five times a day to ask how you're feeling. I know they mean well but DANG.... I'm sick and I'm SLEEPING.

3) The fact that I have no portable phone. Battery died on the old one and I absolutely refuse to believe that any phone call is so important you have to carry the phone into the toilet with you. Of course, that is when the phone rings... that, or when you are sleeping (see #2).

4) People who call but only let the phone ring 3-4 times. Okay, this officially should be a sub paragraph to #3 but who cares? I don't have a big home. Since the recent move, it's bigger than it used to be, but it is still small by most people's standards. However, I am a slow mover. I hate getting to the phone right at the third ring, only to find I have nothing but a dial tone when I go to say Hello?? LET THE FREAKING PHONE RING!

5) The fact that I succumbed to having a TV in my bedroom. I swore it would never happen. The bedroom is for one thing only here... sleeping. Trust me, that's all that is happening, lol. Granted, I readily admit to loving it's glowing presence while I have been sick, but now it is much too easy for the two people who live here to retire to their respective rooms to watch completely different shows, and never really interact. NO NO NO NO NO. We still do the family dinner together and Gosh Darnit, the rest of the evening will be spent together as well!!! TV is evil. Law & Order must put out subliminal messages that tell me I absolutely HAVE to watch every episode on TNT.

6. Talking to myself. For some strange reason, it happens a LOT lately. Worse yet, I find myself arguing with myself about talking aloud to myself. Then I bring in a third conversation to tell my first two selves this is perfectly normal. Can I still blame it on medication once this stupid virus is gone?

7. The feeling that I blog all alone in the world. Perhaps that is why I talk to myself.

See? I'm crazy!

Oh. PS: The main thing driving me nuts right now is the feeling that it is only Dec 4th, yet I've MISSED it. The shopping season is almost over, or so I've been told, and I haven't even been out there in the fray yet! I didn't realize that mid-December was considered last minute. It used to be the norm. I feel like I should get the Easter decorations out just in case I blink.

:)

Blogger Panic!

2006-12-02T16:55:00.000-05:00

Panic! Fear! A strange but titilating wish to call the Geek Squad! My blogger wasn't working. No upload image button. ACK! I suddenly realize that this thing means more to me than I knew. It's not working!!!!

Thanks to a kind (and I say brave) soul on Blogger Help Group, I am up and running again. Many of us are. We owe our bloggability (and sanity) to one Blogger Buzzer, a saint of a poster who told us how to correct the problem.

Go forth Buzzer Angel. Go forth into that dark and thankless night where those of us who are mainly blog illiterate go to vent and read and pray for help, and know that you saved us all from what surely was sudden withdrawals and certain journalistic death.

Our Hero.... BUZZER!

Big Hair Dreams

2006-11-30T21:50:00.000-05:00

Okay, I must be feeling a little better. I can smile without my teeth chattering! I am still sniffly. I am still fighting an uphill battle to regain my balance (thanks to sniffles). I am BORED to tears, but golly darn it, I demand to look good while on my deathbed!

I was e-talking with a friend and the conversation turned towards the 80s. That made me think of my good friend Tracy, who by no means has big hair but..she lives in Texas. Texas makes me think of big hair...and voila! I get out my teasing comb and my hairspray and suddenly I'm back on the disco floor. Blame it on the medication. I do.

I Used to Kick Ass! (subtitled: I'mb STILL Sickkkh)

2006-11-28T21:29:00.000-05:00

Now it seems I just kick the garbage can full of tissues. Day five of this horrible blech bug. As my youngest would say, "Mom, you look really yucky." Well, then my outsides at least match my insides. One of my medications (don't ask how many) says "Do Not Operate Heavy Machinery Until You Know How You React To This Medication." Like I told my loopies, I think the vacuum is safe for another few days. Give me a riding Hoover and I'll consider trying to find the carpet. Until then, just wade through and know you are safe from nuclear fallout right now.

Oh..and come armed with Lysol. and a shovel.

I'mb Sichhhk

2006-11-27T13:27:00.000-05:00

My nose is stuffed up, my ear is ringing, my head hurts, my eyes are itchy, my cheeks are all puffy and look like beige playdough, and that little dingleball thingy in the back of my throat has taken on a life of it's own. I'm sick. I've been in bed (mostly) since Friday night, and my poor 12 yro has been pretty much on her own. Good girl has behaved as if Christmas was tomorrow night and she was terrified that space under the tree would stay bare. Bless her heart. She's a good kid. I have a fever, and all that decongestant/antihistamine junk is giving me the weirdest dreams. Not even really imaginative ones, just weird. Like bringing my dead husband back to haunt me. Like I need that right now. My Doc has two scripts called in to the pharmacy today but I'm too dizzy to even go get them. Would one of my email buddies please move closer and baby me? I promise to always return the favor.

Okay, you can take the truck that is parked on my chest, off now. I got the message. Thank goodness for laptops and long cords. Bed is wonderful.

I'm Am Thankful.

2006-11-23T20:56:00.000-05:00

We just finised a great Thanksgiving dinner, and I thought I'd write a bit. I don't do this often. I'm always afraid I'll bore someone or worse, make them laugh AT me. I guess I should be thankful they are looking at all, lol, but this blog is for me so it really doesn't matter, and any laughter is good.

I thought I'd do a thankyou post. I'm thankful for family. Thankful my family is close, in spirit if not proximity. My nephew called today. He is strong and tall and in the Air Force. He is also stateside for a surprise visit. I am thankful he is able to visit. He sounds so much like his father. That is a man on the other end of the phone, not the child I held and rocked and sang to. How thankful I am for him.

My sister and young niece just left. They are the only family I have here in Asheville. We had a wonderful small Thanksgiving dinner, complete with all the trimmings. The girls (mine and hers and some of the neighborhood rugrats) all played for hours afterwards while Catherine and I watched the lighting of the Macy's Christmas Tree. I am thankful for pumpkin pie, a comfy couch corner, and quiet times where the lighting is dim and the heart is as full as the tummy.

My friend Heather and her two precious babies were here earlier on in the week. Sadly, her oldest, Aidan, was ill, but the visit was wonderful regardless. They stayed two nights and Heather and I got to enjoy Kona Coffee (a little known food group) in big mugs while relaxing on the back porch. I am thankful for good friends, good coffee and a good life. I am thankful Aidan is on the mend. I am thankful that we have the type of relationsjhip that is easy on the spirit. It is there and it is appreciated and it is never frenetic. I am thankful for good friends.

I am lucky. I live a nice life with wonderful kids, supporting family and really great friends, and I am THANKFUL.

Sad news at the homefront.....

2006-11-12T12:36:00.000-05:00

I haven't updated in a while but it hurts to come here and see the pics. Liz and I hve lost two of our best friends. We lost Mama Spice, the best gerbil ever, and my precious beloved Tootsie Pop, the most primo supremo parakeet that ever waddled the earth. Our hearts are broken.

I Canceled My Massage For This???

2006-05-31T11:55:00.000-04:00

This is my daughter Liz, and my best friend Tootsie Pop. I know, you're thinking I'm nuts, and you might be right, but the truth of it is, I don't get out much due to some chronic pain issues. That being said, the pity train left a long time ago and I actually like my life just the way it is. Between my youngest child, and all of our pocket pets, I spend most of my free time laughing my butt off, which could stand to be a bit smaller. This pic is one of my favorites. Well, honestly, I have a lot of favorites, but this is the current one. Liz was watching TV when Toots decided to fly over for a quick visit. She was trying to get Liz's attention by kissing on her chin, but something on TV set Liz off into hysterical fits of laughter, and the poor birdie bounced up and down like a superball. I grabbed the camera, and took some quick shots. In this one, Toots is looking straight at me with a face that said "Rescue me. Please." After the rollercoaster ride had momentarily stopped (Liz paused in her laughter) the bird again started to give her kisses but Liz was right back into her belly laughs, and the Tootsie Pop had to hang on for dear life. She finally gave up (Toots) and flew down to crawl up my leg and up onto my left shoulder, where it is safe and broad and STILL. I got extra kisses for that one!

Friendships Passing

2006-01-15T07:33:00.000-05:00

Pete, the gerbil, is gone. Sadly, Mr. Pete passed away last week. He took unexpectedly ill, and the vet said there was nothing that could be done. He was in pain, his system was shutting down, and we did not want him to suffer so we let him go. A heartbroken eleven year old child brought her beloved pet home to bury him. We said a few words over his little box, added a necklace she had made, and (with the help of a kind neighbor and his shovel) laid Mr. Pete to rest.

The next night screams came from the back, and Liz came running. RePete was ill. He was so still as she laid his little body in my hands. His heart was beating so fast. I asked her what he did. She said he sat up, then just fell over on his side. I knew that he wouldn't make it, and before I could call the emergency clinic, RePetes heart slowed down and then just stopped. He lay in my hands while I just cried and cried, and my child wrapped herself around my shoulders and cried harder. I couldn't reach "Grandma" to comfort her, and my words were of no help this time. I am lucky enough to have a wonderful friend who was able to calm me, and help me calm Liz (thank you Dani). Liz looked so lost. Both of her babies were gone.

I tried to explain. They were old. They had never been apart. RePete loved his brother so much that he actually climbed an impassable barrier to be with Pete while Pete was supposed to be in isolation, recovering from a broken leg. RePete wasn't having any of that, as you can read from a previous post. They were three years of age, ancient as far as gerbils go. They were pampered pets who had more toys than I did, and they lived happy and healthy lives, full of chew sticks and apples and sunflower seeds. They just couldn't stand to be apart. I think that gave us both comfort.

We buried RePete next to Pete, adding another necklace Liz had made. This one said BROTHER. We said a few words, cried a lot of tears, and wished them both happiness beyond the Rainbow Bridge.

They will be very much missed.

Love Always Finds A Way

2005-09-28T11:51:00.000-04:00

Pete the Gerbil somehow injured his back left leg last week. We don't know what happened but he was limping and dragging his foot behind when he tried to walk. He couldn't sit up, a natural gerbil tendency, without falling over, and Liz (and yes, myself too) was beside herself with tears. Pete is part of our family, no matter his size, so off we went to the Veterinarians office. An exam and exray later, we were told he has somehow broken his leg up by his hip. Could have been from playing but more than likely from his exercise wheel. A few weeks of isolated quiet time and he should be fine. If not, the next step is a pin to keep the two bones healing nicely. It is a step we will take if need be. A life has infinite value, no matter the pricetag placed by others.

Pete had to be separated from his brother, RePete, for fear of roughhousing. He and RePete (go ahead and laugh) like to chase each other around the cage, ending in a good old fashioned wrestling pile. None of that for now We put a wire divider in the cage; the kind that bird cages are made of. No squeeze room on either side, and rising almost to the top of the cage. Vertical bars so it could not be climbed. Two days pass, and our furry friend seemed to be improving physically, but depressed. His healthy brother was just as depressed. Still, they could sniff and touch each other through the bars... better than total separation.

Fast forward to two days ago. Liz comes home from school, and the first thing she does is go in to her room to see Pete. She has been sitting by his aquarium cage and just stroking his back and ears, since he can't be picked up. I hear this startled cry, and Liz comes running out, blurting "Mom, why is RePete in with his brother!!?!!" She had thought I put them together for some one on one time. I run in to her room with her, and there are Pete and RePete, sound asleep. A fuzzy, furry ball of cinnamon, toffee, white and tan paws and tails. Pete missed RePete. RePete missed Pete just as much. RePete had somehow climbed those vertical bars and squeezed through that half-inch space at the top of the cage, and found his way to his brother. There they were, both on the same side of the divider, all curled up together, a sort of rodent yin and yang, LOL.

We took out the divider. The wheel had already been removed. We left them together, and RePete has not tried once to wrestle. Perhaps he knows his lifelong friend is hurt. Perhaps animals can sense this. Some say not. I say it is ridiculous to think that they don't sense these things.

Pete seems to be improving, although it is a slow progression. He is still limping, but using his leg more than when we first found he was hurt. RePete has gotten very calm and brings over the best sunflower seeds for Pete to eat, even though Pete can get to the food bowl just fine. We did all we were told to do, and the journey isn't over, but these two deserve to be together and perhaps Pete will heal faster with the companionship and care of his brother. Love always finds a way. :)

Honey, I Think There's a Cat...

2005-08-29T22:44:00.000-04:00

My mother, God love her, is a wondeful source of love and compassion and hugs. She is also a wonderful source of amusement and entertainment, even when she doesn't want to be. She lives in Central Florida and I do not. I live where the air isn't full of moisture droplets and people of normal height and weight can breathe without feeling like a fish in drydock.

My Mom comes to visit about once a year, and I love it when I get to spend some time with just her and I. Even if we are doing nothing at all, it is perfect. Always perfect. She makes me smile, and likes my spaghetti sauce, and keeps me in constant stitches, with absolutely no effort.

This was one of those occasions. Mom asked if it would be alright to take a shower. No problem, but I wanted to pick up the bath toys first. My then eight year old still likes to take baths and plays in there until her feet prune up and she resembles a 90 yro grape. Mom didn't see a problem with picking up the toys herself, and frankly..the couch felt good...so I let her have at it. "Clean towels and washclothes under the sink, Mom, and lots of shower gel choices on the windowsill."

About twenty minutes later, a very bewildered Mother presents herself to me in the living room. "Honey, I think there's a sick cat in the tree outside the bathroom! I heard it moaning and wailing the entire time I was taking a shower." Okay... I've never seen a cat around here, as neither I nor the closeby neighbors have animals. I go outside to take a look anyway. Perhaps a stray got lost and found my tree a source of refuge. No cat. "Honey, I KNOW I heard it. Repeatedly! It almost sounded..well, not sick, but...you know...like there was more than one and they were busy!"

"Okay Mom, but I'm not going outside to find out if they are done!" We settle down to eat spaghetti and the cat caterwalling conversation is dropped. For now.

I'm preparing to retire for the evening (getting fancy here, lmbo) and prepare for my shower. I turn on the water to test the temperatures, and then hit the shower spray button.

"MUUU-WAAAAH"

Huh?

"MUUU-WAAAAH" Dang if that cat wasn't back in the tree! I get in the shower and I'm trying to peer out the window but it is one of those real tiny way-up-high-thingies and I just can't manage to stretch my 5 ft 2 in body tall enough. I reach to catch the shampoo bottle that starts to topple and instead catch one of Liz's plastic toys the kids get in those smileyface meals from the land of 50 million served. 'MUUU-WAAAAH." A bright orange with black stripes fish looks back up at me and again proudly calls out "MUUU-WAAAAH." Nemo, From Finding Nemo, lays there in the palm of my hand. It's one of those floating toys that make noise when you use it in the tub, and the spray from the shower apparently was setting it off!

I am dying laughing here. I get dried off, dressed and go out to my mother, who is still worrying over this poor sick (or possibly very lucky) cat wandering somewhere outside the vicinity of my bathroom window.

"Mom, is this your cat???" and I make that orange toy produce it's gawd-awful noise. "Yes!," my Mother hollers... and then realizes I am holding a fish. A FISH. A plastic fish. This is her caterwalling cat. This is her "gee, couldn't they pick a better place for THAT feline pair." A plastic fish that makes a noise similar to a sick foghorn. My Mother, champion of plastic fish, cats in motion, and even the occasional paper bag by the side of the road ("But honey, I thought it was a puppy!"). I think I'll keep her. :)

You know You're Getting Old When....

2005-08-28T22:15:00.000-04:00

I am not a fast driver. I don't LIKE to drive fast. I like a nice leisurely pace. You know, the kind where the cyclists on the Parkway pass you with their wonderful hand gestures? I don't do a LOT under the speed limit! I mean, I can hit 44 in a 45 mph zone, for Polly's sake... I just choose to not do that, lol. I do 43 1/2. I stay on the right unless there is no right, and I don't hug the bumper of the ones in front of me (mainly because I can't catch them). I thought I was a safe driver! A good driver! A cautious driver!

My mother came to visit last year. She rented this beautiful little furnished apartment for an entire month, and I was thrilled to have her close enough to give an actual hug. Cyberhugging and ecards are great, but they just cannot replace a Mommy hug!

I had gone to meet her at her rental apartment and she was going to follow me back to my little place. She wanted to come see my garden, my tons of tomatoes I complain about (see other story) and just chill on the couch with us at MY place for an evening. NO problem, Mom! I'm a slow safe driver, so following me won't be any problem at all.

We are cruising along, me doing my usual 43 or 44 (okay it was 42 but I didn't want to lose her!). My cell phone rings. I hate using a cell phone while driving. If I were that coordinated, God would have given me three arms and an ear extension from birth. I glance down quickly (one eye on road and one eye on the phone..I'm talented!) It's my Mom calling me. She must want to stop somewhere, or she has a question about dinner, or I am going too fast. Me? No way! It must be dinner.

Me: Hi Mom - I'm waving at you! What's up?
Mom: Honey? Can you do me a small favor? Please?
Me: Sure! Anything... (slowing down because I just can't talk and drive at the same time)
Mom: Well... could you kind of pick it up just a LITTLE bit? There was this little old lady on a three wheeler that just passed us on the right, and she didn't look too happy!
Me: Huh? Fine!

The cell phone quit working or she turned it off. She wouldn't admit it later when I asked, but I could SEE her laughing when I glanced back to her car. I swear she wiped away tears.

You know you're getting old when your MOTHER calls you on the cell phone from the car behind you begging that you go just a LITTLE faster than the speed of snails.

I'm getting a moped.

Going Up!

2005-08-25T23:02:00.000-04:00

It has been one heck of a day. Not a happy blog, but I feel the need to put this all down, and this seems like as good a place as any, lol.

Dear Lord, I just ask that you take care of my Mom while she is in the hospital. Chest pains hurt, and please, if it be your will, let her be okay and come to us instead of going home to you. You already have my Dad and I know it's selfish, but I want my Mom just a little longer. I know that we here on your Earth don't always understand why things occur as they do, and I know it is not my place to question your wisdom, but I could use a little guidance right now. Please keep her safe, and take away her pain.

While I'm on it, can you also watch out for my Grandpa please. He's without power right now due to Hurricane Katrina and, while he is a very tough one, I can tell he was a little worried. The winds won't be too bad (mild hurricane) but lots of rain, and he lives in an area that is easily flooded. Just wrap your love around him and keep him safe please.

I know I'm asking a lot, but there is nothing you can not do. Liz, my youngest, has a small hairline fracture in her right foot and toe..and it can be pretty painful. A little touch from your hand to ease the pain would go a long way, along with lots of Mommy hugs from me. Hold your child that you loaned to me to raise, and help her to feel better please.

Heavenly father, I was angry at you for so long after Dad died. While I never wavered in the fact that you existed, I did waiver in my faith and devotion to you. Instead of seeing that you took Dad so that he would not be in pain or seeing that you spared him not being *all there, you took him home to be with you. I almost hated you for that, but you were patient. You never stopped loving me, even when I denied you. You kept nagging at me, and showing me your love, even when I didn't want to see it. Thank you for not giving up on me. I have found such joy and peace in the past few weeks. You tell us to lay down our burdens to the Lord and let Him take care of things, even if we don't understand. I did that. I will continue to do that. I will no longer question, but be thankful for all that you have given me.

Thank you for dying for me, and for loving me, and for showing me that you are always there, even when life seems at its darkest. I give my life over to you, Lord.

Amen.

The Guess WhoDunit

2005-08-20T20:46:00.001-04:00

This story occurred about three years ago, and still cracks ME up!

I am at the school, picking up my youngest daughter Liz, after school lets out. Oldie Goldies blasting away on the radio, as usual. Liz hops in and at that very moment, one of my favorite songs comes on. No Sugar Tonight In My Coffee, by... you guessed it. The Guess Who. The following conversation nearly had us both killed.

Me: Oh, man..my favorite song! Be-bopping my head and looking like an idiot.
Liz: Who is it?
Me: The Guess Who
Liz: I don't know. Who is it?
Me: Guess Who! It hasn't dawned on me that she is really trying to guess, lol.
Liz: I don't know... the Beatles?
Me: No hon, it's The Guess Who. I can barely contain myself by now.
Liz: The BeeGees?
Me: No, Liz..the name of the band IS The Guess Who! Hysterical laughter hurts!
Liz: Mom, it's not the Beach Boys! Who is it?
Me: Honey, listen...the name of the band IS THE GUESS WHO. That IS their
name. That's it! I have tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard. Laugher causes tears. Tears causes temporary blindness. Temporary blindness, while driving, causes car accidents! Who put that guardrail there?? We JUST missed it!
Liz: Oh. It hits her. The Brain Train has pulled in to the station. OH! Well, THAT'S confusing!

I think I'll mess with her head next week and put on the old Abbot and Costello routine Who's On First.

How To Grow A Tomato

2005-08-20T18:21:00.000-04:00

I swear, I didn't set out to be a Martha Stewart wannabe. I only wanted to try my hand at a few vegetables and maybe an herb or three. I had received moderate success last year when I grew tomatoes. First time I had ever grown a thing, other than children, and I didn't even water THEM on time! They turned out okay anyway. It all started in West Palm...

I am known as the Botanical Butcher of South Florida. I made short work of a spider plant and a cactus. I even took the life of a gorgeous philodendron that ticked me off, and it was SILK! Plants and I don't do well together. If I wanted all that greenery, I'd go buy some Benjamin Moore and airbrush something.

That all changed when I moved to Asheville. Maybe it was all that fresh air clogging my lungs, or the high altitude (nose bleed jumping off the porch) at which my little trailer sits. Perhaps it was the fact that there is so much color here. Green, brown, gold, yellow, orange, red, pink... it's enough to make one take leave of their senses. So I did.

I searched on the internet and at the library, and bugged the helpers at Home Depot so much they used their walkie talkies to warn each other when they saw me coming. Unfair advantage. I don't walk fast, and sometimes I can't walk very well at all, and it is not a pretty sight to see an overweight and overbearing lady hanging on to a shopping cart, chasing an orange vest around the light fixtures and down through the plumbing aisle. Chickens.

I am given some wonderful advice. Buy really good potting soil, and don't overwater whatever you put in it. Hey, I can do that! I purchase two healthy looking tomato plants. An Early Girl, guaranteed to give you wonderful sweet ripe fruit within sixty days, and a Better Boy. I wanted a Best Boy but they were all out. Better Boy seemed to be ahead of Okay Boy and Doing Fairly Boy, so Better Boy it was. I get them home, only to be informed by my neighbor that I cannot plant yet. It is late April and the ground may still experience a hard freeze. So? Get it a coat, for Polly's sake. I bring my two plants in to my home. I offer up food and shelter, and the occasional use of the CD player. They reward me with drooping leaves and bugs. I told you plants and I don't do well.

Act One, Scene 2. Got more plants. Waited until the proper time, rechecked the soil and planted those little suckers. Watered only when they screamed of thirst, and gave them the occasional sprinkle of coffee grounds and crushed egg shells. I don't know why. I think I heard someone once say they were good for plants, and it beat having them leak to the bottom of the garbage bag!

Within approximately 60-75 days, I had tomatoes! Lots of tomatoes. Beautiful tomatoes all turning red at the same time. I made sauce. I made chili. I made chopped tomatoes. I made crochet balls by freezing tomatoes (man, that hurts if dropped). I gave away tomatoes. I took tomatoes to the local food bank. I threatened total strangers that they HAD to take my tomatoes.

Finally, tomato season was over and I could safely throw away those pesky plants whose fruit of their loins took up all my time and space. I was so out of the tomato growing business.

Until this year. :) This year I added herbs, sweet peppers, cucumbers and zucchini. I was supposed to get small compact zucchini. Great for everyday use (as if everyday usage included zucchini). Again, I followed all the instructions. I swear I didn't ignore a one. I really tried! What I got were monsters. The zucchini above (yep, that IS a zucchini)is not the smallest, nor the biggest, but it was the first ripe one so I had a friend take a picture for posterity.

The other vegetables in the garden, not to be outdone by the zucchini, grew just as big. Some bigger. There's a cucumber I've threatened my neighbors with that would make a baseball bat look puny. I'm going to bring it to the next lawn game we have here in the park. I think I've still got some crochet balls in the freezer. :)

In Memory of Garfield

2005-08-20T15:22:00.000-04:00

It was a dark and stormy night. LOL, typical introduction, except that it really was! I had just dropped my youngest off at my sisters, stayed a while for dinner, and was trying to get home before all hail broke loose. Pun intended.

I pull up to my little teensy tiny trailer and I trying to hurry. Not only is it going to pour, but I am in desperate need of the ladies facilities. Even chocolate could not have deterred me from my mad dash to the intended room. I throw my keys and purse on the kitchen table, traverse around the corner (dangerous by day, deadly by way of the night light!) and down the short hall. Panic sets in. Those last few feet seem to take forever (gotta build suspense here). I'm there! I made it! Thanks be to the piddle Gods.

I am just breathing a big sigh of relief when I feel this something run across my feeties. This something is furry and has lots of feeties of its own.

Have you ever wondered how much weight a shower curtain rod can hold? I know that this question has been burning in the minds of many for years. Well, I can tell you from personal experience that it is a LOT. I extricate myself from this rod (I am wrapped around it like one of those clingy toys), rearrange my clothing and go in hunt of my furry friend. I'm thinking Mouse in the House. I am creeping down the hall...and off in the distance (lol, distance being maybe 3 feet?) I see a shadow dart across in to the kitchen. Still creeping here. I don't want to take unfair advantage of my ability to move faster, and frankly, I'm not too interested in getting up close and personal with my new friend.

The kitchen, bathed in nightlight glow, looks even smaller than it is, and it IS small. I am gaining on my furry visitor, when it decides to TURN AROUND AND COME STRAIGHT AT ME! I am now on top of the stove. A fat woman can move and jump very quickly if she needs to, and I am grateful that my appliances like me. The stove is my friend. The stove is my refuge. The stove is not big enough to crouch on, lol. I grab a tupperware container from the dish drainer, conveniently located close to the stove (I TOLD you my kitchen was small!) I drop it on top of the thing that has me trapped. It takes a while, but I slowly back my butt (and the rest of me) off this Harvest Gold monstrosity, and lean down to take a peek at my captive.

Garfield, my daughters gerbil, peeks back up at me! Apparently, someone didn't close his cage tight enough, or he learned how to push it open. Who knows how long he had free reign of the house, but there he was. He couldn't get back UP to his cage, and he heard "Grandma" come in, so he came to visit. Visit me in a place no one else is supposed to BE while you're in there. I get him back in to his cage, move it to the living room where I can guard over it. Not wanting to take any chances, I put a big ole' bag of sunflower seeds on top, giving him chewing time and free access to his favorite treat, but it will take a long time to eat through it, so I figure I've got a few weeks or so.

Here we were. I'm at the computer, glaring at him, and he's in his cage, munching on a sunflower seed, and glaring right back. Impasse. We made a deal. I won't try and chase and squish him anymore, and he won't scare the c**p out of me!

White German Shepherds Must Be Angels

2005-08-20T13:55:00.000-04:00

I have a twentyone year old daughter. She was conceived in the usual fashion. There it ended. While I would love to say that her father and I stayed together, life deals us strange twists and we handle it. I wanted a husband and a family and the white (okay, I wanted green) picket fence. He wanted a bottle of beer and a party. So. I find myself in the not so unusual role of pregnancy without my husband. I move in with a coworker. I am normally a very quiet person, but I am polite to a fault, so I asked her if the radio in my room would bother her much. She laughed, and told me she sleeps like the dead and NOTHING short of a nuclear blast could awaken her.

She wasn't kidding.

At 4:37am in the morning, on the wonderful day of March 24th, 1984, I was blissfully asleep on my side and snuggling with about fifteen pillows. Anyone who has ever been pregnant will immediately understand the fifteen pillows. I was dreaming of skiing. Strange, since I don't ski, and I hadn't been in water deeper than a wading pool since Jaws I came out. WTH?? My dream lake was really something else. Yep, my water broke. Okay. I'm cool. I'll go wake up Nona and she'll take me to the hospital. Right. I must have left my nuclear warhead in my other maternity pants because nothing was budging that drooling picture of loveliness. She wasn't getting up. She wasn't coherent. I'm not even sure if she was alive.

I get dressed and get my old car (can you say Plymouth Fury III? I knew ya could!) going. I skip it down to the payphone about 2 blocks away (I don't remember why we didn't have a phone, but we didn't). I call my Drs office, knowing I'll get the answering service. That's okay. I used to work for them so I'll get faster service. Linda (answering service operator) picks up the Doctors line and I tell her who is on the phone. She starts laughing. See how friends can be at 5 something in the morning? Mean. I give her the phone number and I'm waiting patiently for the Doc to call back. The phone rings. It is my MOM. This answering service does wakeup calls. Most do. My sister, Claire, has a wakeup service through them (small town) and Linda called HER FIRST then the doctor. So....Claire calls our Mom, who calls me, and now the phone is busy and the doctor cannot get through. I tell ya, I'll sell my family real cheap. Nah. Well, I finally get the Doc, who says to come on in to the office. I am not having any contractions. I feel fine. All I want is a shower (can't have it) and a nap. I get in my old Fury and drive the 30 minutes to my Mom and Dad's house. Hey, they are the halfway point to the Drs office and I was hungry and my Dad makes the best scrambled eggs ever.

It gets wacky from here, but I swear every word is true. Y'all can call my Mom and check, lol. After filling my belly with pancakes and bacon, I am in the back room taking a wonderful nap. No contractions. No pain. Nothing. My Mom wakes me up. Apparently, Dr. ***** called her, after calling the service, who called Claire again, who called the Dr and gave him my Mom's number. Got that? He was looking for me. Oh, yeah. I was supposed to go to his office. Nothing is like they show in the movies or on television. I am not having pain, I am not seizing up and screaming "the baby's coming," and frankly, I thought I'd just wait a while.

My Mom, being the older and wiser person that she is, says we will certainly NOT be taking my old Fury to the Doctors office. We will be taking her brand new Pinto. Okay, I can see you laughing. Get up off the floor and keep reading. Use your imagination as to what happens next... can you guess? Can ya? Can ya? (I love Dory).

We are on an old road driving my Mom's new car, with me in the front passenger seat, still trying to finish my nap. Yeah, right. That brand new "ever so reliable" car breaks down. In the middle of no where. On a back road few use. Okay. THAT is when the contractions decided to start. Not hard, but I knew it when I felt it. My Mother calmly steps to the side of the street and looks up and down for oncoming vehicles. My MOTHER IS GOING TO HITCHHIKE??? A truck passes, going the right direction, but she doesn't even try and flag it down. HUH? Mom, I'm going to have a baby, and I don't want it to be born in the back of a Pinto that is smaller than I am. Ah, but wait... it gets better.

A white station wagon, heading the WRONG direction, is seen approaching closer. Suddenly, as if a sign, a head pops out.. a white German Shepherd. Now, that wouldn't even register with some, but Mom and Dad have a white shepherd. My sister Claire has a white shepherd (which is where my Mom and Dad got theirs, lol). So... certainly the person driving must be normal and reliable and responsible and safe. MOM! She stands in the middle of Old Dixie and stops this poor woman. After explaining the situation, the lady takes me to the Doctors office, perhaps 15 minutes away from where we broke down. We bid adieu, with information being exchanged so the total stranger and my Mom can get together and play pinochle.

More drama. I get in to the Doctors office, and after being examined, I am informed that I am more than halfway there and should have gone immediately to the hospital instead. SOMEONE got their info wrong, lol. Okay. One problem. We have no car Doc. People can give you some crazy looks but when your own OB/GYN tells you that you and your family are nuts, it's time to pay attention. After explaining that we had to hitchhike here because of a vehicle breakdown, my Mom calls Claire. Not home, but Jim (my BIL) is home watching my new nephew (3 months old and very handsome). Great. Come get me and get me to the hospital please.

My wonderful brother-in-law arrives to pick us up. He arrives in my sisters truck. The one they jacked up and put monster tires on. The one I can't get in to when I'm NOT CARRYING THE WEIGHT OF A BASKETBALL TEAM!!! A few push and shoves later, and I am up in the passenger seat, my mother is in the driver seat, my nephew is still in his car seat in the middle, and Jim is in the back.

Still not done. We get to the hospital and I get in to my labor room. Yep folks, they actually had rooms back then where you got to labor. I was laboring away (and hating everyone by that time) when my coach arrives. Mom had the smarts to call her when we arrived. So, I am in my labor room, hating labor, and trying to concentrate on my puffing and hissing and all that other baloney. In between death pains, I am tell my friend Sam that I already know I am having a girl and I've filled out the certificate in advance. I want to name my baby after my loving friend, Sam. I'm being real serious and intense here, and I thought loving friends were not supposed to laugh at you while you are being emotional and sappy and trying to labor a watermelon out of you. I thought wrong.

See, Sam's name isn't. Isn't Sam, that is. Nope. Sam, whom I have known for many of my then 26 years, informs me that Sam is a nickname her Dad gave her when she was little. Sam stands for Smart *** Mouth. She is really Donna. ALL THESE FREAKING YEARS AND I DID NOT KNOW THIS???? Man, having a kid is complicated!

The Doc arrives and advises me that I'm done laboring. I've been done for hours but nobody listens to the laborer. We get to take a fun trip to the delivery room now! The wonderful thing about teaching hospitals is that interns get such a great education there. They also get a birds eye view of things sometimes. I've gone from laboring to screaming by now. Interns walking through look a bit green, and frankly I hope one of them falls flat on their face. Serves them right for interrupting my big moment.

So, my beautiful baby girl was born about 5 minutes after all of this. She was perfect in every way. She had a thick thatch of dark hair, and all the right number of fingers and toes, and was perfect. My beautiful baby girl heard her name for the first time. Her name of Sam. Named Sam after my best friend...Donna. :) Life is funny sometimes. I wouldn't change it for the world.

2005-08-19T12:18:00.000-04:00

I had a life before I had children. I swear I did. My old old friends would even argue that I was actually fun to be around way back then. I was the shy, quiet one in high school, with the exception of my music. I played guitar, you see.. and back when I was in school, it was cool to be a hippy chick with long hair (mine was short), straight hair (mine was curly), and a stick thin body (mine wasn't even CLOSE lol). Think Twiggy. Think Peggy from Mod Squad or Laurie from The Partridge Family. I was as opposite to cool as Burritos are to Lobster Bisque. Not even close. You get the picture. Only problem with all this is I didn't KNOW I wasn't cool. My parents had always told me I could be anything I wanted to be, so in my eyes, I was already cool, since cool is what EVERYONE wanted to be. :)

I had my music. I had a guitar teacher whose name was Micky. His hair was longer than Peggy Liptons, lol. His pants were a cool tan corduroy and his shirts had sleeves that were all puffy. I swear, the only thing he was missing were the hippy beads. He would interject words like "Cool, Man" and "Groovy" and we basically did whatever we wanted to, since all of us could play anyway and this was just one of those classes you took because you had to take an elective but you didn't want to WORK too hard. We'd sit around in groups in the classroom or in the hallways, playing our guitars and thinking deep thoughts about the world.

We started a lunchbreak thing called "The CoffeeHouse" and every lunch time we'd set up our microphones and our little baby amps and get out there and sing sing sing. We were pretty good too, or my ears were just not in tune back then. It was a blast, and we had quite a following. I also did a lot with the Drama department. I know, I know... I can hear your thoughts loud and clear. Boring. Except it wasn't! Our biggest production was Godspell and we brought the house down. Our drama supervisor (she didn't like the word teacher) was an old Broadway backup dancer/actor/waitress who had the most amazing stories. She made it fun, and many of us visited her long after we left school. We even got some of the cast of Godspell (they were performing at Coconut Grove Playhouse at the time) to come see US, and then we were invited to go see their performance. It is funny how you get so enveloped in a role you don't remember where the character left off and you began. Aw, to be 17 again! Not. Well.. there's my opening 'story.' Hope you enjoyed it.