A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

So - I Need a Hair Cut. - WITH CUT OPTIONS

I am perusing the web for haircut options.

This is my current state.

When I find some options, I'm going to post them below here.....and solicit your opinions. Because I am nothing if not indecisive.

Okay so first is a cut I've gotten two or three times.....it's not what is grown out this time, but I like it, maybe I'm just BORED with it. It is a pretty valid haircut. Not too out there for someone who works for a conservative company but not too SQUARE either.

However, I have had this desire to put bangs back lately. And I can't decide why. Bangs are a pain in the ass. Then you have to grow them back out because you get tired of them. But this one is sort of sassy.

Opinions please.

Bold Faced Lie #1 - Making Out With Someone Else When My BF Arrived to Pick me Up

Yeah.........ummmmmm..........this one is TRUE.

TRUE I say.

We can say it was the end of the relationship. We can say I was younger and a lot more of a jerk than I am now. But it's True.

Mrs Repressed and I were drinking in that style that made up famous on Meridian Street in Indianapolis and had ended up at the Slippery Noodle, probably doing shots and drinking Bluesberry (I think their Indiana Amber gets renamed at Slippery Noodle, it's not blueberry flavor) beer and I know that we realized we could no way no HOW drive the 20 minutes home. So I called my boyfriend and probably said something eloquent like "COME PICK US UP NOW" If I remember correctly, I told him we were someplace else - like I forgot where we were.

So when he arrived, he not only had to run the gauntlet of bars looking for us, he walked in to find me sucking face with person X.

Now the question is........who was person X?

Man I can't remember. Stranger? Someone we knew? I just remember thinking I was going to be in shitloads of trouble for the kissing and he was most pissed at having to HUNT for us.

Mrs Repressed, do you remember who it was? Xta might have been there - I can't remember if this was pre-relocation for to NC for her. Anyone who remembers let me know. It seems a shame to have been such a jerkwad and be willing to admit it, but not remember the complete story.

Gotta love those shots of schnapps.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

You Would Think They Had Enough of This In Utero

Not like they don't HAVE their own beds.....

Clams on the Half Shell, and Rollerskates...ROLLERSKATES!

Okay I've been thinking for days about how to write a post and use that as the title.
I couldn't come up with anything coherent.
So, I thought I'd just share some really random stuff and hope that the inanity of the title would just fit right in.

(husband, you are auto disqualified - you know the song it's playing in the car).

Second - I thought that I was given the willies enough by the Spiner Femmes - but now, we have a whole site dedicated to this....... so the real question then becomes simple to me. Is Kirk or Spock bottom?

On another topic, you are a complete asshat if you don't go to THIS site and vote on the seven wonders of the world. And vote for the damn pyramids - why is this even a QUESTION whether the pyramids are still a wonder of the world? I mean, they are the PYRAMIDS for god's sake.

And, my friend Nikki is a nurse. The claims that nurses who prep us for surgery think we all have icky belly buttons - because they have to REALLY clean them, and they know exactly how clean we are not. I think THIS is why.

The Grass Was Greener

I have been embarrassed the past few days by the nice things being said to me at my new job. Don't get me wrong, I like praise - and I think I do a good job. But, it has seemed effusive, it has seemed like a lot - way more than I am accustomed to. Then a visiting manager said something to me that opened up my mind. She said to me "It was nice to see you again, you always make me smile - you just seem so happy to be here."

She is right. I am so happy to be there. I wake up happy. It occurs to me that I had really allowed my last job to make me miserable in the name of cashflow. And I am vowing now, that will never happen again.

I will never again let a job make me feel guilty or afraid because I need to spend time with my family, make me work 6 days a week consistently with no compensation, make me give tacit approval for unethical practices and unfair work conditions. I will never again allow a job to repeatedly call me on vacation and at all hours about NOTHING - or should I say JUST BECAUSE THEY CAN. I will never again work for someone who verbally abuses their staff to such an extent that the managers feel a desperate need to protect the people below them from the reality of senior management.

I knew it was a sign, that despite my terror at lack of income and healthcare for my family, that I was RELIEVED never to have to walk back into that building. I knew it meant something, to feel like Mel Gibson in Braveheart screaming "FREEDOM" when I realized I was no longer in their power. It was worth it.

It just took my new experience to make me feel valued again, and to really make me realize that work can be joyous - work can make you feel good about what you do and part of something that is making a difference.

We were once lectured, for hours, at the old job, that we were working in a "Family Atmosphere." Actually, it was screamed at us. I now work in a family atmosphere, one built on respect and mutual kindness.
Perhaps he meant "Manson Family Atmosphere."

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Bold Faced Lie #2 - I had Rheumatic Fever as a Child

Who the HELL gets rheumatic fever in the last 100 years?

Apparently I'm bringing back the old school diseases. I'll break out some polio or bubonic plague in a few years just to keep the trend going. I had my polio vaccination so that'll be even cooler, bringing it back WHILE vaccinated.

It was as drag as I recall. Lots of laying around in a bleary fever. The big remedy, in 1978 was to give me huge doses of aspirin. Aspirin that began to give me blurred vision and make me sicker than the rheumatic fever - which by my memory probably had passed by then. I had a tutor who helped me do school work and spent part of my time in the hospital - maybe a week? I can't really remember. My main memories of this time are are follows:
  • Laying on the couch for days and days at a time
  • Eating ice cream with adult aspirin crushed on it to keep down my fever which was revolting
  • My Uncle George bringing me my allowance, 3 dollars a week, which I kept hidden in a Whitman's Sampler box.
  • Going to the hospital and having them draw blood constantly- every few hours, my veins in my arm are weak to this day from it. They collapse if you look at them too hard.
  • A huge stack of get well cards from my friends at school, lots of pictures that people drew, some people made me puzzle books and coloring books, it was really sweet.

So yeah, I had rheumatic fever as a child. As a precaution against and mitral valve damage that might have been done at the time by the virus I take a big old dose of antibiotic before and after dental work. I'm not 100% on the connection there, but I do it. Dentists act like they are Superman and I am Kryptonite if I come NEAR them un-medicated. Apparently I'll just drop straight dead in the chair or something.

Kidding. Anyway, one more Bold Faced Lie to GO......

Be sure to check out the cool contest over at Props and Pans! Free stuff is good!

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

She's a Very Geeky Girl, The Kind You Can't Take Home to Mother

I am exactly geeky enough to totally dig this.

And I watched a whole documentary COVERING this. Which was a riot.

But I was a little jealous. Some people spent their entire 401k on memorabilia to put on top of the TV. Hilarious.


If being almost 6 feet tall is short on your planet, then yes. I am short.
You know that old wives tale that you can double a child's height at 2 and that is how tall of an adult they will be? Well, I used to PRAY it was true.
Because that would have sent me towering over the six foot mark - which I thought would be the coolest thing ever.
Being tall had it's down side growing up. I always had to sit in the back of the classroom, I was so tall. Back with the other super tall freaks who didn't fit into the desks made for "normal kids" our age. Sometimes the janitor would have to come and adjust the height of the desk for you.
An additional down side was that sitting in the back, I couldn't read the blackboard.

Now, this might seem like a strange thing, like a weird leap - but in my kid-brain, it made sense. I couldn't read the blackboard, and I thought it was because I was sitting in the back of the room. When I got to the age where I actually had to take notes off the board, I'd run up at the end of class and scribble down what what the board said or I'd copy off of someone else later. This went on for years. I couldn't see lots of things, but I didn't know it. It never occurred to me that other people could see blades of grass, or individual leaves on trees. After all, things that were far away - just didn't seem like things I should expect to be able to see. How would you see something that was far away?

And then, I went to get my learner's permit for driving and BEHOLD I couldn't see. I needed glasses. Surprise.

You WERE supposed to be able to read the blackboard in school.

And I didn't know.

Because I was tall.

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Monday, June 25, 2007

Bold Face Lie #4 I Went Out With a Hermaphrodite for the Nice Meal



You know, I'm not saying I wouldn't go out with a hermaphrodite or something if I were single. I'm not ANTIHERMAPRHODITE. Especially if one were, say, offering a nice meal to some place FANCY like......oh Charleys (which is NOT to be confused with O'Charley's) or St Elmos.

I'm just saying, that to date...I haven't been forced to supplement my food stores by dating hermaphrodites.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Bold Faced Lie #5 - Barfing on the BMOC of Wabash College

I wish this one were false.

But it's TRUE.

My friend had this boyfriend. The sad thing is, I can't remember HER name....ummm, Cara? I don't know. Anyway, she was in the band/color guard or something - that is how I knew her(low brass section here, bitches). Those band geeks out there reading this are saying "Wait why is a low brass girl hanging out with a color guard girl....." LET IT GO people. Regardless. Friend, acquaintance - whatever. Person I knew had this boyfriend. His name was Chris. Last name withheld to protect the innocent. She brought him around a few times - positively glowing as she showed him off. He was a cutie too. His family had bucks, he was going to Wabash - a shmancy boys private college for those of you not from Hoosier land, and well - he was pretty cool. At some point they got "pinned" etc etc etc. He'd be around from time to time and I always thought he was a pretty cool guy.

So his family moved to Switzerland one year because of his dad's job (another person I know whose parent had a swanky job at Eli Lilly). So she wrote to him, and pined for him, and talked about him blah blah blah blah. And I pretty much forgot about him. Because, I was in high school - and I was self centered like that. (Ummm still am).

I went to Europe in high school, the obligatory trip to Germany that my husband insists all middle class girls from Indiana take when they are in high school (sort of true......strange but true). I flew Iceland Air on a plane with PROPELLERS. So anyway our layover was in Reykjavik. Beautiful Reykjavik. I walked around the gift shop that looked out over the frozen tundra or permafrost or whatever the hell they have there......and after having purchased a beautiful scarf and mittens (wool - they produce WOOL in Iceland) I see this guy WAVING AT ME. Excitedly. Jumping up and down and WAVING AT ME.

In Reykjavik, Iceland.

I take a better look. I know him. It's Chris. The fancy boyfriend of friend/acquaintance/maybe in band/maybe in color guard whose name I now forget. And he looks delighted to see me. So we go off to the airport bar to have a few. When our connecting plane boards, which we are BOTH on, he finagles me a seat next to him up in first class. Apparently the Iceland to Luxembourg flight is NOT so full. So I sit with him - and we chat chat chat and then we have more beers and (MOM AND DAD AVERT YOUR EYES NOW) we make out for most of the flight. Addresses are exchanged. Promises to write are made.

And in fact, we do write. My F/A/MIBMICG/WNINF starts complaining at school about how his letters are less frequent. She wonders if he met someone in Europe. I say NOTHING because I sort of feel bad. But - they're still pinned and he's certainly not writing I LOVE YOUS to me, just mundane friendly stuff. So I think nothing of it.

A year goes by. I hear little from him. I get a new boyfriend. I start volunteering at the Children's Museum in Indianpolis. And now, this story gets to it's conclusion. I go to work at the Children's Museum with my THEN boyfriend who I was bored with and ready to be rid of. We have an annoying lunch on our break, in the little restaurant there (which has since changed like 10 times so no fear the current restaurant is safe). Anway, I have a turkey sandwich. Not too long after that, when I return to work. I start to feel really really bad. Got the sweats...upset tummy. Boyfriend takes me home.

I start throwing up. But I then feel better. I think, hmm bad turkey sandwich.

The Phone Rings. It's Chris. He's home. He wants to see me ASAP, he broke up with
my F/A/MIBMICG/WNINF. We make plans for later that night to see BACK TO THE FUTURE.

I feel weak and icky but pull it together - shower, break out my best flipped collar polo or something equally 1986 - leg warmers, hair teased up to the sky. You know what I'm talking about. I looked GOOD. At the movies, it's PACKED. Back to Future was wildly popular. For some unknown reason, he has brought friends, two other guys that I knew. He whispers that they tagged along and he is sorry. I excuse myself twice during the movie - and go puke in the bathroom. Desperate for the date to go well, I buy mints and do a huge freshen up in the bathroom each time. I keep thinking I'll be okay - just pull it together, get the movie over go home and go out again another time.

As the movie ends, I'm shaking, sweating, my vision is a little blurry and I'm really starting to realize something terrible is wrong. And I need to poop. Bad. Like, emergency poop. The incredible exploding ass sort of poop. The credits roll. The entire move theater stands up. Gridlock. I can't move. The room starts to sway.

I look to my left. And vomit all over the coolest guy I had ever gone out with.

I make it to the bathroom, vomit a lot more. Crap my brains out. Clean myself up.

My date's friends are nearly in tears when I come out of the bathroom. In tears because they are laughing. One of them says "So I don't think he'll get a good night kiss" before he realizes I am standing there. I am mortified. They take me home.

About an hour later, my dad drives me to the ER because my temperature skyrocketed and I couldn't stop vomitting. I had food poisoning.

The coolest guy I ever went out with? Never even called to see if I was okay. Not so cool after all I guess.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

De Doo Doo Doo De Dah Dah Dah

Is All I want to Say To You.

Oh, I also want to say, that this morning my husband woke me up with a little card he had made by hand.

The wording was personal and sweet. So I won't tell you what it said.

So I'd like to share the news in the manner in which I would have shared it if I were 15 and telling the geeks riding in the back of the Speech Team bus listening to "Be My Girl Sally" for the 45th time that day.


Bold Faced Lie #6 I started Blogging When Xta Encouraged Me After I Emailed her The Story of the 800 Dollar Shoes


The story of the 800 dollar shoes is my first blogpost ever.

They really were the worst shoes I ever tried on in my life. Xta had the first blog I ever read, I even think I learned the word BLOG from her. I read her religiously for a long time before I ever started up the Wang.

And yes, I just linked to myself.

Just to show my mad blogging skills (insert sarcastic laugh here.)

Thanks Xta - Blogging is one of my favorite hobbies! And I owe it to you DAHLING!

Friday, June 22, 2007

Someone at RIGHT HEALTH Loves Me

I thought it odd to be mentioned by RIGHT HEALTH on the blog link for the Cholesterol of the Eyes post from a million years ago.
But now they're just grabbing words and putting them together, because I have mentioned skin tags and I have mentioned Vagina.....but I have never said SKIN TAGS and VAGINA in the same post I am sure.
And certainly nothing meriting being linked on THESE key words.

So no.
I don't have any of those.
Not there.

Gross man. Gross.

Bold Faced Lie #7 - I Met Sarah When We Were Hugely Pregnant With Twins


The only thing more uncomfortable than being swollen with not one but two humans gestating inside of you, is sitting in a meeting full of strangers staring at you with that "oh we know what you've got coming" sort of smile. And that is where I met Sarah. At the local Twins Club Meeting. With due dates close together we were tumbling big when we met, eating Tums like candy and waddling to the bathroom whenever possible.

Being pregnant with twins together is strange bonding. You're in a high risk pregnancy together but you are both going through different things, because no two are the same. Sarah was in the hospital for weeks and weeks while I plodded around big as a house right up till the day I went into labor. Sarah had the emergency C section while I did the vaginal delivery.

Sarah started blogging so she could comment on my blog one day. Aren't we glad she did?

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Bold Faced Lie #8 - I Got Engaged at Walt Disney World While the Dapper Dans Barber Quartet Sang


A long weekend we could ill afford to Walt Disney World - ostensibly to beat the midwinter blahs started off poorly enough. Staying at a cheapie hotel where the first room had floors that were soaked with what MIGHT have been pee and the second room sucked only slightly less (the beds I swear were 3/4 size. Not even regular full sized) so we couldn't sleep comfortably together.
After a long day at Epcot I sat on the stalled monorail picking at my carefully manicured nails - absentmindedly pulling off the polish. The then boyfriend says "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO YOUR NAILS!?" and I just mumbed "pullling off the polish"........to which he says "Oh, but your hands looked beautiful........"

Little did I know.

The next morning we RACED to the Magic Kingdom, me being pulled reluctantly and tiredly behind him - why the HURRY? My feet were screaming from the previous days journey around the park. First to the hat shot to have mouse ears made with our names on them "we have to have mouse ears" he said emphatically. Then we raced back to the front of the Cinderella castle where he insisted it was important we had our picture taken.

I told him to find a Disney employee, they are supposed to take your picture if you ask, and that way we could have one together. Suddenly strolling over was the barbershop quartet you'll find on Main Street, the Dapper Dans. In their candy colored suits they smiled and chatted and I asked "But - where is he? - aren't you taking the picture?" and one of them said "No, we're going to be IN the picture with you!" So I spotted the then boyfriend, walking around in the crowed pouring in Main street toward us. He kept darting around, looking at people.

The Dapper Dans were fidgeting.

I was getting embarrassed, because I knew that these guys had stuff to do. So I was WILLING him to hurry it up, find someone, just find someone to TAKE THE PICTURE WHAT IS THE BIG DEAL.

He handed the camera to a man and spoke to him for a minute then whirled around and walked toward me with a conviction of a man possessed by purpose. I coudln't figure out what was his DEAL until he knelt down on one knee, whipped out a little box containing a diamond solitaire (marquis cut - he WAS listening) and asked "Will you be my Cinderelly?"

At that point the Dapper Dans launched into song.

It was a Disney Magical Moment.

But he was right, I really really really wished I hadn't picked all that polish off of my nails.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007



This could also be filed under "I wish."
I have always, for reasons unclear to me, always wanted to go to Hawaii. I lived in FLA for four years yet, Hawaii always has held something that enchants me.

Maybe it's that cool combo of mountains + beaches that fascinates. Volcanoes! Volcanoes are cool (at least according to Lil Satchmo).

I have friends who honeymooned there. I can't even talk to them anymore.

Of course, I changed jobs and so did they and I also moved out of state and we lost touch - so that might have more to do with it than my obsessive Hawaii fetish. I'm not sure.

Be sure to visit my other place of brilliant posting, Props and Pans !

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Bold Faced Lie #10 - I have a Cat Named LaVerne Because I have sexual Fantasies about Penny Marshall


Seriously, you didn't fall for that one did you? LaVerne was once part of a trio that included Shirley and Edna (you remember Mrs Babish the landlady right?). LaVerne and Shirely were purchased at the Pet Shop next to the Cub foods where Mrs Repressed was employed after we did a short stint of catsitting for her friend from college. After the kitty Bailey went back home.....we were kitty-less. And desired kitties.

Mrs Repressed had been eyeballing the kitties at the pet shop for several days, and then one day I happened in to check them out. There were only two left. I made a frantic phone call to her "Only two kitties! WE MUST BUY KITTIES".

So, we did. After answering that we'd like our kitties put into a box rather than a bag (who bags kittens?) we drove home with our new family members in a box between us. We agonized over names -Anastasia and Drusilla? Too stuffy. We needed a pair. A famous pair.

And then we recalled our infamous cruise from days of yore.....when we told everyone that we were going to NEAR MEXICO a la the famous LaVerne and Shirley episode. The answer was clear.

LaVerne and Shirley.

No sexual fantasy. Sorry perverts.

Monday, June 18, 2007

The Daddy Business

I didn't write a Father's Day Post, for a couple of reasons.
I wasn't home most of the day.
I wanted to consider what I wanted to say a little more, and not have this post get lost in the endless shuffle of FATHER'S DAY posts across the blogosphere.

I know two dads who have always been very much into being dads.
One of them is my own.
Over protective to the point of madness according to some people's parenting, my Dad didn't mess around when I was little. If it wasn't safe, I didn't do it. I have pictures of me at the age of 4 in Florida, with zinc oxide on my nose, wearing a turleneck in the pool at our hotel. To protect my pasty white skin from the sun. I can promise you there was sunscsreen UNDER that turtle neck as well. Did I look crazy? Yes. Did I get a sunburn? NO. This same Dad would go on Brownie field trips, just in case I was scared. In a famous incident, the Brownies went to the Jaycees Haunted House when I was in 1st grade. I didn't think my dad needed to go. He went. And when the Haunted House had to be SHUT DOWN because a little blonde girl LOST HER MIND and HID in the house, her Daddy just happened to be there to go in and find her, and carry her out - sobbing.
My Dad is overprotective, but he kept me safe. So thank you Daddy, you did a good job - even if the turtleneck in the pool MIGHT HAVE BEEN a little overboard. I appreciate the lack of skin cancer and wrinkles now.

The other Dad is my husband. To clarify, my husband is a reformed reluctant Dad. When we were first dating, he didn't really seem to WANT children. Then, when we were told we couldn't have them, he was okay with adoption. When I told him I was pregnant, I'll leave it out, but he truly did freak out a bit. He wasn't ready, he was scared, he was worried and it was a rough time for him. It probably is for all guys.

But when I was about 15 weeks pregnant I got pneumonia and had to go the the hospital. I was so sick that they decided they need to Xray my lungs, despite the fact that I was pregnant. I was nervous, he was nervous, but away I went, to be quadruple layered in lead aprons so that the extent of the liquid in my lungs could be determined.

And ladies and gentlemen of the jury, do you know how you know the man you love has turned into a Reformed Reluctant Dad? This is how. When you are wheeled back from radiology he's sitting there, waiting for you with tears in his eyes. And the first words he says are "Do we still have a baby?"

He's also the guy who on Father's Day chooses something to make little boys hearts soar, rather than just something for himself to do. Such as this weekend, when he chose a museum full of giant dinosaus to make little boys joyous. Because on Father's Day, the thing that made him happy, was making the objects of his love happy.
I think he chose well.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

10 Bold Faced Lies

Karen has encouraged me to play the 10 Bold Faced Lies Game......so you know, I'm like a buffalo on my way over the cliff.
If everyone else is going, I gotta go too.

Here we go......are they true or false?

  1. I once called my boyfriend to come pick me and my drunk friend up from a bar at 3am. When he arrived, I was sitting on someone else's lap making out.
  2. I had rheumatic fever as a child and missed weeks of school in 4th grade.
  3. I am quite short, I've always wished I was tall.
  4. I once went out on a date with a hermaphrodite bcse he offered me a nice meal.
  5. I once went out on a date with the BMOC (big man on campus) at Wabash college, and vomited all over him at the end of the date.
  6. I started blogging after XTA encouraged me, when I emailed her the story of the 800 dollar shoes.
  7. I met Becky and Sarah when we were all hugely pregnant with twins.
  8. I got engaged at Disney World in front of the Castle while the Dapper Dans barbershop quartet sang.
  9. I vacation in Hawaii every year.
  10. I have a cat named LaVerne because I have sexual fantasies about Penny Marshall.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

And I Hate Curious George

Man, have you ever actually TRIED to read Curious George? Don't be one of these latecomers who saw the movie and now "think you love Curious George".
Curious George Sucks.
That's right.
You heard me.
How do I know this? I know this because we own the complete collection. And I have a little boy who LOVES these heinously written pieces of crap, therefore I am forced to read them. Consider this little snippet, from the one about the ABCS "X stands for Xmas" I mean.......WHAT?
Did they just say XMAS?
And in one story Curious George goes to a farm, a museum AND into space.
Good god. Seriously, wtf. Are they just trying to make a list of things kids like and work them in? Annoying.
I know I'm ranting, but I don't care.
Curious George Sucks. A lot.

I have another nugget to share.

If you are a sexual deviant with more money than sense, here is how to fix your sex doll.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Tell Him I Said Hi

I don't tend to blog about really personal things, because honestly, I'm not always comfortable with people understanding me too completely.
I like my privacy, I like my hopes and dreams to be my own and maybe that's dysfunctional but while I tend to be very OPEN about so many things.....if you know me....and you think about it.....I don't tend to break into conversation about the deep and meaningful very often.
I don't want to talk about your religion, your morals, your politics, etc......or mine.

Why is that?

I'm not sure. Maybe it's because I want to appear cool with a facade like smooth marble. Really hip, carefree, expensive marble. Just enough flaws to be human.

So this, then, is a completely different sort of post.

Some of you have been reading long enough to remember my railing over the Crash of Flight 5191, and the loss of so many including my wonderful friend Bobby. It was a very traumatic time for me, I cried a lot at work, sitting in my office sobbing, crying at home, crying to and from work, in general......I cried. A lot.
And I was angry.

I flew to my former home in Lexington and spent a few days in the embrace of people I love very much, as all of of grieved and sorted out all the emotions that go with the process of grief. But something else happened to me during those days.

I lost my faith.

I haven't talked about it to anyone. I don't know how to start the conversation. "So hey by the way, I don't believe in God anymore." How do you broach that? I don't know the segue. But, while I was there, listening to people memorialize the dead, speaking of their own faith and the faith of those departed.......I sat horrified with myself, realizing that I didn't believe in any of it.

Was it petulance? Anger at a deity I felt had wronged me and others? Rage at heaven for such atrocity? There have been worse atrocities......but still, I hadn't felt like that then. But sitting, listening to the words meant to comfort, words of solace and support.....I realized I was cut adrift. Floating.

Without support from above.

I did not Believe.

I've harbored this for months now. At loss for my loss of Belief. Feeling robbed of something I wanted to have. I wear my opal cross and finger the stones....wishing I felt something passionate like Belief, like the comfort of the Divine.

And then something happened. I made fun of it at the time, because I am a jerk like that, but now I'm going to tell the truth of it.

When I was in the airport waiting to depart to Chicago for training at my new job, I was sitting minding my own business and eating next to two gentlemen who were talking in earnest about the nature of goodness, and it was a talk religious in nature. I was exactly jerk enough to listen a bit and consider the bit from the Vampire Lestat book (I forget which one) where someone tells a story of once overhearing God and the Adversary having a similar conversation in a coffee shop. Anyway, I was lost in thought, eating my Church's or Popeye's or whatever it was, when suddenly one of them touched me on the sleeve.

I looked up and looked into his face, which was kind and gentle. And he looks directly into my eyes and said," I just need to tell you, Jesus loves you."

And for a fleeting moment.....I felt relief. I laughed and said something like "What else did he say?"

But in fact, I was wishing it was true.

And now I wonder, how would I ever know the difference between divine messenger and whack job - since they tend to say the same things? And I don't know now, if I believe in GOD but not the entire kit and caboodle of religion or if I have shucked all of it like a skin.

So anyway, my religious friends and neighbors. I guess this is what I say.

I'm off the path. Maybe not completely.
But if you see Him. Tell Him I said Hi.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Way Down Yonder on the Chattahoochee

That's right.
I said Chattahoochee.

You know that you've moved to the South when stuff from Alan Jackson songs starts showing up in your everyday life.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

...And Each Town Looks the Same to Me the Movies, and the Factories

It's weird when you relocate. Because it's not just the differences you try to adjust to, for me it's the sameness that I always find a little unnerving. As though there is some vanilla flavor washing across the country and everything will be the same eventually.

"Now All Restaurants are Taco Bell." (Who remembers DEMOLITION MAN?)

And while there is comfort to be found when you're out of your element not once but twice as I was last month (move to GA then POOF to Chicago for two weeks) it's nice to know you can find knee high stockings and macaroni and cheese at the WalMart, I miss having a store more specific. More......local.

When we left David Letterman's neighborhood and moved to Kentucky, I would get sad.....because I would confuse our little Kroger grocery store with the one where we used to live. I'd be walking up and down the aisles trying to figure out why bread wasn't where it was supposed to be.......and then I'd get teary eyed because I'd realize I wasn't HOME. I was in this new place. Even when four years had gone by and it really had become my home....I still thought of that first, little Krogers as my grocery store.

Now, two re locations later I'm finally back in a place that HAS Krogers (and PUBLIX HOOHOO MAN that rocks) but what I've realized is that Walmart has homogenized the shopping experience to such an extent that I don't even notice that it isn't my store. I know that the WalMarts in Northern Chicagoland have a HUGE selection of foundation and hosiery for pasty white girls like me. I also know that despite some slight variation in store set up, I can find anything in Walmart.

I've got too many tiny humans to feed and diaper NOT to shop at Walmart. They've got me. But someday (shaking fist at the sky like Scarlett O'Hara).........

That day, to be shortly proceeded by a lottery win.

Friday, June 01, 2007

Have You Ever Picked Up Your Teeth With Broken Fingers?

Okay that's a joke.
My fingers are not broken.

My teeth, my teeth are another story.

My parents were part of the generation that put their babies to bed with their bottles in their mouth. Thereby, rotting the sprouting baby teeth. They learned their mistake and I can't imagine the horror as a parent that they had to endure my with baby teeth shattering apart, having to take me to the dentist for extractions and other horror shows that no one wants to have to do with your little one.

So they became diligent. Dentist appts, dental procedures were never put off, were never NOT done. Teeth, at my parents house are taken care of.

I began to have trouble with my adult teeth about 10 years ago. Teeth cracking, chipping, breaking.......root canals.......complications.......and then, then the insurance fiasco where I scheduled the root canal and the crown only to not be able to afford the crown because there was NO insurance left.....

Poor planning.

And poor care on my part.

I sit here now with a missing tooth (just recently departed), a crown needing finished, a front tooth chipped, and other miscellaneous collateral damage.

There are choices, to repair this damage. Fillings, crowns, bridges.....all choices to fill in the damage that has been done. It will not be the same, but it will mend the hole and allow life to go forward, differently, but functionally. Without the gap, without the open place that the broken tooth has left.

Relationships are like this. Friendships and love affairs.
You just have to find the right vehicle of repair, be it filling, crown or bridge.....to repair what is lost.

To go forward.