Less than a month after my brother died my "But She's Pretty" child got married. A big formal production full of judges, senators, lawyers, Federal agents, etc. Now first it is very hard for me to be in that type of group and keep my mouth shut. I think I did fairly well and only pissed off five or six of them. That's a good record for me. I could have done more if my daughter had not assigned me a "keeper".
The planning for an event that size is absolutely unreal and time consuming. I was still in the grieving process which doesn't go well with wedding planning to begin with.
I use to think Peacocks were the prettiest bird, now I hate the motherfuckers with a purple passion, which for those uninformed is worse than a pink, or say yellow passion. Her theme was Peacocks, everywhere you looked there was a damn Peacock, Peacock feathers or Peacock shit. I will literally snap and kill the next child of mine that even mentions a Peacock themed wedding! I drank my Peacock drink imagining the whole time that it was the blood of at least one of those running around the area. I mean, you know it's bad when the photographer comes up to you and whispers "I have some hilarious shots of you interacting with the Peacocks that I am not putting in the wedding book but I will put them on disc and send them to you." He did and even I must admit they are pretty funny, in hindsight. I may need some type of Peacock therapy to recover.
The best photograph of the evening was of just her and I. In the photo it looks like she is leaning over, hand up to her mouth, saying something very sweet to me and I am smiling ever so sweetly in return. In reality what she was saying was "Mom, don't tell anyone but I was in such a hurry to get dressed I forgot to put my underwear on!" The photographer just happen to catch it before we both double over laughing. Ah....memories.....
I committed only one crime during the evening and I had an accomplice. We stole a golf cart. We did return it though. We were told after a certain time at the reception that the golf carts were off limits. It was around 11:00pm when my oldest son looked at me and said "Wouldn't it be fun to just grab one of those and take it for a ride around the golf course in the dark, as fast as we can go?" I agreed. So we did. He drove around once and I drove around once and then we politely returned it and pleaded stupidity. We didn't know we weren't suppose to use them after 8:00pm. Unfortunately for "But She's Pretty" child, this is the one she assigned to be my "keeper". Hey, I figure if an event costs that much, if you have to wear formal wear that many hours and you have to deal with fucking Peacocks you should be allowed to escape on the damn golf carts anytime you damn well please!
Humor aside, it was a beautiful candlelight ceremony in a beautiful setting and of course the bride was beautiful. But those damn Peacocks.............
Sunday, January 19, 2014
What Do You Do When The Keeper Of Your Secrets Is Gone?
In early September we got the devastating news that my brother had cancer and was told that there wasn't really anything they could do, it was already stage IV, he would live another 6-12 months. We ended up only having 2 weeks with him. While I am not glad that he had cancer or that he died I am forever grateful that he did not suffer and went fast.
But just what do I do now that the keeper of all my secrets is gone? Who do I tell them too? Who makes fun of the rest of the family with me? Who protects me now and tells me everything will be alright? Just where the fuck is Howdy Doody?
He was my oldest brother, I could tell him anything and know it never went anywhere but from my mouth to his ear. He could do the same with me. Yes, he was like any brother growing up, tortured me. But he was also the one that paid the biggest amount in blackmail money when I caught him doing something that was going to get him in trouble if I told. He bluffed me once. I told. He never bluffed again and I upped the ante after that.
Even through wives, husbands and children we never grew apart and he could make me laugh like no other person on earth. He's gone now, and I have to live with that. I still talk to him everyday and in small ways he lets me know he is there and he hears me.
What I can't live with is where in the hell is Howdy Doody?! Howdy Doody was an old children's television show we loved, a little before our time but we loved the re-runs. One year for Christmas my brother got the coveted Howdy Doody Deluxe puppet on strings. I always wanted to play with it and he would always say "When I die, you can have it" in his most serious 9 yr old voice. When the excitement of Howdy Doody wore off, being a collector's item he was packaged and put away many years ago and has always been a running joke between us. The day before he died he told me he guessed I would get Howdy Doody finally and we laughed. The only thing of my brother's that I wanted was Howdy Doody. The problem is we have searched high and low for that puppet and he is no where to be found. My mother doesn't lose things, she knows exactly where everything is at all times. Her motto is "Everything has a place and everything should be in it's place." That is except Howdy Doody. He isn't in his "place", he was there last year when she tidied up everything's places but he is gone now. I just know my brother has found a way to take Howdy Doody with him and is up in heaven laughing at the search going on. OK, so I don't really know that but I do know I prefer to think that than to think that Howdy Doody is lost forever.
Goodbye sweet brother, I will miss and love you forever! By the way if you do have Howdy Doody with you be prepared to pay big time when I see you next!
But just what do I do now that the keeper of all my secrets is gone? Who do I tell them too? Who makes fun of the rest of the family with me? Who protects me now and tells me everything will be alright? Just where the fuck is Howdy Doody?
He was my oldest brother, I could tell him anything and know it never went anywhere but from my mouth to his ear. He could do the same with me. Yes, he was like any brother growing up, tortured me. But he was also the one that paid the biggest amount in blackmail money when I caught him doing something that was going to get him in trouble if I told. He bluffed me once. I told. He never bluffed again and I upped the ante after that.
Even through wives, husbands and children we never grew apart and he could make me laugh like no other person on earth. He's gone now, and I have to live with that. I still talk to him everyday and in small ways he lets me know he is there and he hears me.
What I can't live with is where in the hell is Howdy Doody?! Howdy Doody was an old children's television show we loved, a little before our time but we loved the re-runs. One year for Christmas my brother got the coveted Howdy Doody Deluxe puppet on strings. I always wanted to play with it and he would always say "When I die, you can have it" in his most serious 9 yr old voice. When the excitement of Howdy Doody wore off, being a collector's item he was packaged and put away many years ago and has always been a running joke between us. The day before he died he told me he guessed I would get Howdy Doody finally and we laughed. The only thing of my brother's that I wanted was Howdy Doody. The problem is we have searched high and low for that puppet and he is no where to be found. My mother doesn't lose things, she knows exactly where everything is at all times. Her motto is "Everything has a place and everything should be in it's place." That is except Howdy Doody. He isn't in his "place", he was there last year when she tidied up everything's places but he is gone now. I just know my brother has found a way to take Howdy Doody with him and is up in heaven laughing at the search going on. OK, so I don't really know that but I do know I prefer to think that than to think that Howdy Doody is lost forever.
Goodbye sweet brother, I will miss and love you forever! By the way if you do have Howdy Doody with you be prepared to pay big time when I see you next!
Surgery
My mother had major surgery in July, not easy on someone who is 84 yrs old. I saw my mother in a state I have never seen her in, vulnerable. At 84 my mother still mows her own yard, drives, goes whenever and wherever she wants. In all my life I have never seen her need anyone. It shook me up. She was in intensive care for three weeks, dependent on everyone for everything. I'm not saying she did so quietly, she expressed her displeasure at the situation to anyone who walked through the door. Exactly why I suspect she recovered so quickly, nothing but pure determination and quite possibly brute force. I did notice the day she was moved to a regular room the Dr. had a slight discoloration on one side of his face.
We were told that we were looking at least a year before she would be back to her normal self and at least three more weeks in the hospital. She left the hospital six days later and is already back to her normal self. Her Dr. told me he has never seen anyone, of any age recover from that type of surgery so quickly. Obviously he does not know my mother. It's a little hard to fight with your sisters, keep up with what the neighbors are doing, gossip on the phone all day, socialize on the internet in hopes of finding just where I have moved my blog and under what name it is so she can tell the rest of the family what I have said about them, trim your bushes and mow your yard, flirt with the AC man all from the hospital. He did not calculate all of this into her surgery plan, I bet he does if she ever needs surgery again.
Ironically, a little less than a week after she came home I had to have the exact same surgery. The difference being mine went according to plan. Possibly because I don't care about the neighbors, I refuse to fight with my siblings, my AC man has a serious case of ass crack, I am not trimming any bushes or mowing any yards, hate the telephone and I already know where my blog is.
We were told that we were looking at least a year before she would be back to her normal self and at least three more weeks in the hospital. She left the hospital six days later and is already back to her normal self. Her Dr. told me he has never seen anyone, of any age recover from that type of surgery so quickly. Obviously he does not know my mother. It's a little hard to fight with your sisters, keep up with what the neighbors are doing, gossip on the phone all day, socialize on the internet in hopes of finding just where I have moved my blog and under what name it is so she can tell the rest of the family what I have said about them, trim your bushes and mow your yard, flirt with the AC man all from the hospital. He did not calculate all of this into her surgery plan, I bet he does if she ever needs surgery again.
Ironically, a little less than a week after she came home I had to have the exact same surgery. The difference being mine went according to plan. Possibly because I don't care about the neighbors, I refuse to fight with my siblings, my AC man has a serious case of ass crack, I am not trimming any bushes or mowing any yards, hate the telephone and I already know where my blog is.
EMPTY NESTING. IT'S A NASTY TRICK! DON'T FALL FOR IT!
The term doesn't exist. It's something someone made up to fool us into a sense of hope. My boys graduated, and supposedly moved out for college. I wasn't dreading the empty nest like so many do, I was looking forward to it. I could run through the house naked and shout "Impeach Obama!", I could take eight hour bubble baths, there would always be cereal in the pantry when I wanted a bowl, I could go to sleep when I wanted, get up when I wanted, no more dental appointments to worry with, I would never again have to wake up to a messy kitchen or den, things would be exactly where I placed them the day before, I would always have gas in my car, I could have afternoon tea without some smart ass visiting kid say "Uh...we don't do that here, where you from anyway?", It would be peaceful.
My first clue that this is nothing more than a myth was when it took them three months to get everything out of their rooms, one still isn't finished. Don't they get I have plans for those rooms? A sewing room, a computer room, etc. Their idea of moving out is to take what you need immediately and just drop back in and get something else if you have the need. They now have two weeks or it all hits the trash bin. If you're going to move then damn it, MOVE EVERYTHING!
Oh and did I mention their grocery shopping? Rather convenient for them. They shop from my pantry when I am not at home.
Date night at the movies? My house. I watch the Blu-Ray maybe four times a year and that is being generous, they want to come watch it three or four nights a week. I'm giving them the damn thing, they get far more use out of it than I do. Oh wait...then they would actually have to clean up their own messes and buy their own snacks....that may not work for them.
Video games? Let's go to Mom's, she has four televisions and we can hook them up and all have our own screen to look at, at our house we only have three televisions. She won't mind if we yell and curse at the screen, she sleeps with a fan on anyway. Nevermind that at our house there isn't even a mouse to hear us.
Gas in the car? Not a problem as long as you have enough to drive to Mom's house and switch cars, she always has gas. She probably won't even notice we drove to Georgia to buy lottery tickets and back. It's a fucking three hour trip guys, I notice!
Now if these guys lived in a dump I could half way understand it, or even if they lived with a houseful of people and needed to get away once in a while. But they don't. They have a very nice 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, den with fireplace, glassed in sun-room, fully stocked kitchen with new appliances (although the stove may not be usable since I'm not sure they have bothered to take the plastic off of it yet), dining room, every room is nicely furnished and they live in the middle of 187 acres of land complete with 4 wheelers and a gun range. There are three people living there and each have their own bedroom. They have no rent or utilities to pay and all the amenities of home. What is their problem?!!! Oh yes...they would have to clean up after themselves.
Just last week I got a call from university telling me that my children are above average in intelligence and will attend next year on full scholarships. Was I wrong to ask if that could be several states away and if they could add a clause that they must take all their belongings with them?
So please for all those just waiting on the empty nest, don't get excited, it's nothing more than a myth given us at the birth of our children to give us hope that this is not forever, there is an end in sight. Now I'm afraid to even pray they find a nice wife, that may be a trick too and I would end up with two extra people hanging out at my house all the time. Grandchildren? Even the word makes me shudder!
My first clue that this is nothing more than a myth was when it took them three months to get everything out of their rooms, one still isn't finished. Don't they get I have plans for those rooms? A sewing room, a computer room, etc. Their idea of moving out is to take what you need immediately and just drop back in and get something else if you have the need. They now have two weeks or it all hits the trash bin. If you're going to move then damn it, MOVE EVERYTHING!
Oh and did I mention their grocery shopping? Rather convenient for them. They shop from my pantry when I am not at home.
Date night at the movies? My house. I watch the Blu-Ray maybe four times a year and that is being generous, they want to come watch it three or four nights a week. I'm giving them the damn thing, they get far more use out of it than I do. Oh wait...then they would actually have to clean up their own messes and buy their own snacks....that may not work for them.
Video games? Let's go to Mom's, she has four televisions and we can hook them up and all have our own screen to look at, at our house we only have three televisions. She won't mind if we yell and curse at the screen, she sleeps with a fan on anyway. Nevermind that at our house there isn't even a mouse to hear us.
Gas in the car? Not a problem as long as you have enough to drive to Mom's house and switch cars, she always has gas. She probably won't even notice we drove to Georgia to buy lottery tickets and back. It's a fucking three hour trip guys, I notice!
Now if these guys lived in a dump I could half way understand it, or even if they lived with a houseful of people and needed to get away once in a while. But they don't. They have a very nice 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, den with fireplace, glassed in sun-room, fully stocked kitchen with new appliances (although the stove may not be usable since I'm not sure they have bothered to take the plastic off of it yet), dining room, every room is nicely furnished and they live in the middle of 187 acres of land complete with 4 wheelers and a gun range. There are three people living there and each have their own bedroom. They have no rent or utilities to pay and all the amenities of home. What is their problem?!!! Oh yes...they would have to clean up after themselves.
Just last week I got a call from university telling me that my children are above average in intelligence and will attend next year on full scholarships. Was I wrong to ask if that could be several states away and if they could add a clause that they must take all their belongings with them?
So please for all those just waiting on the empty nest, don't get excited, it's nothing more than a myth given us at the birth of our children to give us hope that this is not forever, there is an end in sight. Now I'm afraid to even pray they find a nice wife, that may be a trick too and I would end up with two extra people hanging out at my house all the time. Grandchildren? Even the word makes me shudder!
Graduation Day
It's Sunday, lazy time by the fire and catch up day. I haven't blogged in so long I'm not sure I even remember how. Life sneaked in and took all I had to just live, it didn't leave me anything to blog with. The next few blogs will catch you up on why I haven't had time to blog the last few months.
Let's start with Graduation
My boys graduated in May. With all the others all I had to do was show up and look pretty, sit through the ceremony, have a few pictures taken and go home with a sigh of relief that I had somehow managed to pull it off once again. Not this time.
I home schooled because I felt it the better choice for my children. They didn't need to learn how to do recess, they got plenty of play at home. They were all very accomplished at eating so that made lunch wasted time too. Then there is the fact that no one, absolutely no one, can be prepared to take on The Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate. They can make a school shooting look like a Sunday picnic. Being close friends with the school administrator put me in a position of having far more to do with any school (with the exception of attending) than I ever wanted to be. But weighing the pros and cons I decided it was better to be a little more involved than planned rather than being sued by the school system for something one of them did.
The week of graduation started nice and peaceful, the sun was shining, the weather was beautiful and then I get the call. We don't have a photographer, he is in the hospital with the flu. I will NOT apologize for the thoughts that went through my head concerning his condition and possible outcome. So at the last minute I am running around trying to find someone, anyone who isn't already booked up. Just as I was considering throwing a Nikon around the neck of the homeless man that stands at the corner of K-Mart I remembered another close friend of mine is a professional photographer who hates children almost as much as I do, therefore avoiding any and all school functions. I begged and promised that none of them would attack him and eat his face off he agreed, as long as I run interference between him and parents. Didn't sound like such a bad job, I can run interference very well, so I promised. What I didn't see coming was all the gowns that were suppose to come already pressed with tassels attached to caps coming folded up in very small plastic squares, having to print out 200 last minute programs for ingrates that showed up without sending in their RSVP's and the computer system that runs the video being written in a programming language that might as well have been Chinese to us making it incompatible with our own system. I grabbed Demon Seed and sent him to work on the programming problem, which he had rewritten in no time so we did get video. I am ironing all those gowns and printing programs while other school officials were trying to keep the hoards contained and doing other last minute work. The poor photographer was on his own, he is now speaking to me again, but in rather clipped British tones. At some point during this fiasco I kicked off my shoes and promptly forgot where. I barely made it to my seat to see my own children receive their diploma's when the horror hit me that at one point their sperm donor and I had to go onstage to receive a handshake and a rose and I still had no shoes. It was like one of those dreams you have where you have to be someplace but can't find an important article of your clothing so you're in a panic. I am scanning the feet of those close to me hoping against hope that at least one of them wore a size 5 or at least close enough to it that I didn't clip clap up the stairs. No such luck, someone, probably me, had seated us beside a family of Donald Duck's on each side. I was resigned to go barefooted and just explain the chaos years down the road when anyone looked at the pictures. About that time here comes my friend, running down the aisle like a football player holding my shoes under her arms. She had found them in some far recess of the church. So at least I managed to go onstage with shoes on that were actually mine. The problem was we went onstage to be met by no students. Our brilliant students, you know, the ones that played around during the whole rehearsal? Well, they went to the wrong side of the stage. We both realize the mistake at about the same time and in our attempt to rectify the situation, let's just say our paths crossed like ships in the night and we still ended up on the wrong side of each other. Personally I was ready just to grab the nearest student off his/her chair snatch the damn rose and blame the photographer years down the road for taking the wrong pictures. I also knew that The Devil's Advocate being blessed with my patience must be thinking the same thing and was probably ready to just shake the hand and hug his principle. A little eye contact and one last attempt and we finally arrived on the same side of the stage.
Now it's time for the reception dinner. My friend knowing I can not be trusted around food did not put me in charge of any part of this so I could kick off my shoes and just enjoy all the good food.
The boys graduated with honors, the ceremony was beautiful, we have tons of great pictures and good stories to tell. My shoes? Well they are exactly where I kicked them off the second time and forgot about them. Lost once again in that cavern of a Church.
Let's start with Graduation
My boys graduated in May. With all the others all I had to do was show up and look pretty, sit through the ceremony, have a few pictures taken and go home with a sigh of relief that I had somehow managed to pull it off once again. Not this time.
I home schooled because I felt it the better choice for my children. They didn't need to learn how to do recess, they got plenty of play at home. They were all very accomplished at eating so that made lunch wasted time too. Then there is the fact that no one, absolutely no one, can be prepared to take on The Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate. They can make a school shooting look like a Sunday picnic. Being close friends with the school administrator put me in a position of having far more to do with any school (with the exception of attending) than I ever wanted to be. But weighing the pros and cons I decided it was better to be a little more involved than planned rather than being sued by the school system for something one of them did.
The week of graduation started nice and peaceful, the sun was shining, the weather was beautiful and then I get the call. We don't have a photographer, he is in the hospital with the flu. I will NOT apologize for the thoughts that went through my head concerning his condition and possible outcome. So at the last minute I am running around trying to find someone, anyone who isn't already booked up. Just as I was considering throwing a Nikon around the neck of the homeless man that stands at the corner of K-Mart I remembered another close friend of mine is a professional photographer who hates children almost as much as I do, therefore avoiding any and all school functions. I begged and promised that none of them would attack him and eat his face off he agreed, as long as I run interference between him and parents. Didn't sound like such a bad job, I can run interference very well, so I promised. What I didn't see coming was all the gowns that were suppose to come already pressed with tassels attached to caps coming folded up in very small plastic squares, having to print out 200 last minute programs for ingrates that showed up without sending in their RSVP's and the computer system that runs the video being written in a programming language that might as well have been Chinese to us making it incompatible with our own system. I grabbed Demon Seed and sent him to work on the programming problem, which he had rewritten in no time so we did get video. I am ironing all those gowns and printing programs while other school officials were trying to keep the hoards contained and doing other last minute work. The poor photographer was on his own, he is now speaking to me again, but in rather clipped British tones. At some point during this fiasco I kicked off my shoes and promptly forgot where. I barely made it to my seat to see my own children receive their diploma's when the horror hit me that at one point their sperm donor and I had to go onstage to receive a handshake and a rose and I still had no shoes. It was like one of those dreams you have where you have to be someplace but can't find an important article of your clothing so you're in a panic. I am scanning the feet of those close to me hoping against hope that at least one of them wore a size 5 or at least close enough to it that I didn't clip clap up the stairs. No such luck, someone, probably me, had seated us beside a family of Donald Duck's on each side. I was resigned to go barefooted and just explain the chaos years down the road when anyone looked at the pictures. About that time here comes my friend, running down the aisle like a football player holding my shoes under her arms. She had found them in some far recess of the church. So at least I managed to go onstage with shoes on that were actually mine. The problem was we went onstage to be met by no students. Our brilliant students, you know, the ones that played around during the whole rehearsal? Well, they went to the wrong side of the stage. We both realize the mistake at about the same time and in our attempt to rectify the situation, let's just say our paths crossed like ships in the night and we still ended up on the wrong side of each other. Personally I was ready just to grab the nearest student off his/her chair snatch the damn rose and blame the photographer years down the road for taking the wrong pictures. I also knew that The Devil's Advocate being blessed with my patience must be thinking the same thing and was probably ready to just shake the hand and hug his principle. A little eye contact and one last attempt and we finally arrived on the same side of the stage.
Now it's time for the reception dinner. My friend knowing I can not be trusted around food did not put me in charge of any part of this so I could kick off my shoes and just enjoy all the good food.
The boys graduated with honors, the ceremony was beautiful, we have tons of great pictures and good stories to tell. My shoes? Well they are exactly where I kicked them off the second time and forgot about them. Lost once again in that cavern of a Church.
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