TWENTY-TEN (2009 Please don't holla back.)

Muuuuaaaahhhhhh....

Thats the sound of Oh Nine kissin' my behind.

It has seriously has been one of the saddest years in a long time.

As a culture, we lost some great icons & way too many soldiers in war.

As a friend, everyone I hold dear has experienced personal tragedy in the last 12 months.

As a family, we lost our Granny and beloved Billy (my brother in law & boys's favorite uncle "UB").

I won't say there wasn't anything to be thankful for this past year (hello: G-Bunny's high school graduation, me fleeing the confines of the fish factory, our health, friendships found, and friendships re-built) and there have certainly been darker times (like ten years ago when our angel baby Kaitlyn said goodbye before we ever got to say hello) but I just can't express how ready I am for a clean slate.

And how about TWENTY TEN anyways? Has it really been a decade since we thought life as we knew it would halt? When newcasters warned us that bank accounts would freeze and VCR's would self-implode ~  all because of a rollover date to 00? To be honest, I didn't drain a dime from my account and I didn't buy a word of the hype, not even a vowel. I was secretly hoping that our VCR would implode so that I could finally convince my tightwad thrifty husband to get a DVD player.

But as a kid? Totally different story. When imagined the year 2010 I pictured zipping around in my space-car (like the Jetsons), living in a floating, round apartment building (like the Jetsons), and bossing my robot-maid Rosie around (like the Jetsons). The only thing I didn't like about my futuristic "like the Jetsons" life was being married to stick-in-the-rear George or naming my kid Elroy. Nope. My hawt husbands name was going to be Dweezil and our boy Tazz. So what if it didn't rhyme?

All in all, I guess we have gotten pretty futuristic - what with our iPhones (not that I have one) and iPods and Wii's and laptops with WiFi and the ability to instantly communicate with friends just about anywhere at just about any time. That's pretty awesome.

But you know what's weird? Among all these cool gadgets, my very favorite pastime remains one from centuries & centuries ago...crocheting. A simple hook and a ball of merino.

Anyways, I hope that all of you beautiful blogland people have a healthy & prosperous year in 2010. My own biggest hope is than we are blessed so that we may be a blessing. If that makes sense. Feeling kinda mushy right now....don't tell anyone.

With any luck, the rain will hold off and we can take the kids to the downtown celebration tonight!

IN LOVING MEMORY OF:

William J. Jones, Jr. 9/24/59~7/4/09

 Mary Ann McCue 8/4/35~12/1/09

Do you remember the Hooters story told you about here?

Sunday

Just as I let out a sigh of relief that the Christmas holiday is over, I have to suck in another one because it's back to work tomorrow.

Why must 4 day weekends pass so quickly? I didn't get in any crochet time at all. Thats a big bummer because I really wanted to knock out some beanies for my boys. And yes, even at 15 and 18, my two oldest sons love my beanies. Their friends digg them too and have, on occasion, been known to swipe an especially loved brown & grey one. I guess I could maybe make the friends their own, but it's such a boost to the ol' ego to see them get snatched. Why ruin a beautiful thing?

I also didn't get in any movie time.

What was I doing all weekend?

Oh yeah....Wii'ing & cleaning. And between those two activities my muscles flabby parts are screaming. I'm sore in places that I didn't even know I had places. That should tell you exactly how out of shape I have become since summer ended. Not that I was fabulously fit last summer, but I was much more active....bike riding, walking & playing on the beach...these are all things I love to do. Just not during, you know,  Nor'easters. Or any form of cold weather whatsoever.

A couple weeks ago I mentioned that my Wii age was 50 after having taken the challenge at my friends house in California. Well, I'm not 50 anymore kids. Nope. I've rapidly aged from 51 to 54 in two days. And my husband? His Wii age is younger. But I don't want to talk about that.

What can I say? I was built for comfort not agility.

Anyhoo....

I am so excited for New Years. 2010 even sounds cool, don't you think? Except I can't figure out how we are supposed to verbally abbreviate it. For instance, G-Bunny™ graduated Class of 09 (oh nine). Will we now just say ten? I'm not sure. Twenty-ten maybe? Anyone know?

See ya St. Nick!

Enough binging, time for purging!

Tomorrow I intend to remove all signs of Christmas from my house.

Yup, I will be channeling my inner Sound of Music & singing to the tree, the holiday lights, and the zillions of snowman ornaments:

So long, Farewell ~
Aufwiedersehn, Goodnight!
I hate to go and leave this pretty sight...
So long, Farewell ~
Aufwiedersehn

Adeiu Adeiu Adeiu,
To yieu and yieu and yieu....

Every year, without fail, my slow perplexed husband will ask me, "Don't most people wait until after New Year's to un-decorate?"

And every year I respond by re-introducing myself, "Hi honey, I'm your wife, and I've been dismantling Christmas by the 27th for as long as we have been together. Keep up."

I am not by nature some sort of panicky neat freak, but I do like things tidy. Christmas is not a tidy time.

I don't remember where I heard this, but it has stuck with me forevvva: "What you do on New Year's Day is a precursor for things to come in the year ahead." Or something to that effect. And basically, I take it like this:

*If my house is destroyed on 01/01 - I'll never get it clean all year.
*Having a tree up past 01/01 is technically like having TWO Christmas' in one year, and yeah. I can barely handle ONE.
*If I'm tired and cleaning, then that's how I will spend all year...yada yada yada...you get the picture.

This old wives tale logic is also why 01/01 is the only day of the year I ever buy a lottery ticket - because if I win big? Then I should totally expect to be swimmin' in cash all year...right?

Other things I intend to do on the first day of 2010 include:

*Being kinder to strangers. And family. (Note to self: try to remember the family part this time!)
*Smiling more, and complaining less.
*FINISHING a crochet or crafty project.
*And pretty much hedging all my bets any possible way I can to insure my odds of having a better year than 2009.

Can't hurt.

Might help.

Calling All Magic 8 Ball Owners

If you own one of these, please help.

It's that whole "New Year's Resolution" time again, and this year I've got one really weighing on my mind.

Nursing school.

I've wanted to become a nurse for many years but what with raising kids and getting my act together, it sort of got put on the proverbial back burner.

People talk about callings and I'm thinking this is maybe mine...cause' I haven't done it yet and it keeps calling back.

Since I don't own a Magic 8 Ball, and since maybe one of you do, would you mind asking it on my behalf?

My future education hangs in the balance.....

:)

Recipe for Disaster /or/ Julia Childs Reportedly Rolls Over In Grave

.
The thing about casseroles is...
they are a one pot wonder meal.
You've got your meats, your grains, your veggies.


The thing about casseroles is...
if you mess it up?
You are going to bed hungry. Or eating an Eggo waffle. Or Cool Whip off a spoon.


I'm not all that suprised I burned dinner because that's just the kind of Wednesday I've had.


It started when I woke up to the sound of a shower running at 7am. Wait, what? 7am? Uuugh...apparently alarm clocks work best when turned on.


Over sleeping means not getting in the shower first. I like getting the first shower.


Two strikes and my feet weren't even on the floor yet.


On the way to the office was a 2 mile long back up at the bridge tunnel. Nothing is more irritating that traffic at the bridge tunnel when you aren't even going that direction. Gosh! Why do they have to get in my way? I take it very personal. Strike 3. At least in baseball they would have had the decency to send me back to the dug out & hang my head in shame. But it's real life so I had to trudge on.


And then tonite when I got home, I practically kissed the front door - because surely nothing would go wrong now that the sun had set and I was back where I love to be.


But it did.


Because its the Wednesday from h.e.doublehockeysticks.


I burnt dinner.


My beautiful white corning ware dish now resembles a toasted marshmellow. There's a quarter inch of rice glued to the bottom, the pea's - which are never that visually appealing in the first place - look like rocks from the bottom of a fish tank, and the chicken breasts were pink underneath.


That's right. I burned dinner without even cooking it all the way.

Can you do that?


I am so afraid to look at the Julie/Julia book on my shelf right now. What if Meryl Streep's little face becomes animated and she starts talking and berating me in her Julia Childs voice? And then what if Martha Stewart on the next book cover over chimes in? And Paula Deen and Rachael Ray....I can't take it. Make the voices staaawp!!! (Excuse me while I have a Jan Brady in a puffy wig moment.)


I've finished my Cool Whip on a spoon so I'm going to bed now.


The guys with their iron stomachs can have frozen chimichangas.

EPIC CASSEROLE FAIL:

Younger Mii

Well kids, we finally did it. We bought a Wii gaming system and I am so excited about it that every night I go to its hiding place in my room and roll away dozens of skeins of yarn to peer at the pretty white box full of family fun potential. (Boys never think to look in mom’s stash bin.)

Honestly, I never thought I would care so much about a gaming thingy, but last month I had the opportunity to play at a friends house and y'all, it was a blast! Ok, so at first when she asked me to play I secretly wondered what the heck a single woman without kids would want with a video game system. Bleh! A karaoke machine, sure. A bubbly foot bath thing for pedicures, absolutely! But a Wii? Gah!

Still, I'm not one to put a damper on things so I shrugged & said “Sure!” with as much enthusiasm as I could muster...then proceeded to fall. in. LOVE. We played for hours, laughing, breaking a sweat, stopping for refreshments, and back at it again. I took the challenge thing to see my Wii age. I was FIFTY. Five-Oh. 50 in real life is not bad, I know lots of rockin' people that are 50 and they are far from "old" - so that's not my hangup. My hang up is that I Wii'd myself out and still I was THIRTEEN years older!!!! But what's a mama to do? Pitch a (wii) fit and pout? Well, sure, that's what I was doing for the last 2 weeks - until just a little while ago when I discovered news of a giveaway over on  Peeling An Orange With A Screwdriver's blog that is happening on Chocolate Covered Daydreams blog - which naturally led me to dream of chocolate covered oranges...Mmmmmm! The guidelines for entery include writing a letter to your younger self....so here goes!

Dear Younger Me,

Hold on to your mall bangs, you are in for a bumpy ride, and it’s gonna take more than a can of Aqua Net to keep yourself intact.

You're 18...

wild and free, and planning to, like totally fer sure, take a year off before heading to college to get your marine biology degree so you can train dolphins at Marine World/scuba dive along the Great Coral Reef/Save The Whales. Ok, so that's what you tell the parental figures while you play Three's Company in your new apartment with Roxanne & Mike. And mostly you mean it, especially the dolphin training gig. But that one little year? Will alter the course of your life forever. By the time your friends are registering for college, scouring course catalogs for classes (not to fret, Al Gore is working on a little thing called the internet, you'll see!), while you and  your round belly are  registering at Target, scouring the aisles with for a 2 in 1 stroller and a breast pump. You'll kiss your bikini tops buh-bye, wish your nursing bra came with a how-to manual, and wallow in self pity until the contractions are about 3 minutes apart. Take a deep breath, puuuuush, and enjoy your exhausting/exhilarating/challenging/rewarding journey into motherhood. Single motherhood. (You always were good at putting the cart before the horse.)

You're 20...
you've traded your banana clip in for pony tail scrunchies - because what's the point in doing your hair when you have a little boy that can pee a straight stream at your head everytime his diaper is changed? Every now and then stop what you're doing and go give Bobby a hug & thank her for being the best great-grandmother a girl could ever ask for...cause if it wasn't for her you wouldn't be living rent free, with a built in baby sitter so you could go to college after all. I'm not sure you realize it, but this is one of the best times of your life right now. Even if you do sing Barney songs in the shower.

You're 24...
you've endured some hard times these last few years. Marriage, ignorant bliss, another baby boy, secrets, domestic violence, betrayals, chaos, divorce. You kick yourself for taking scuba lessons instead of a self defense class. You question your faith, you're own actions, your integrity, and you wonder if love really exists. But that which does not kill you makes you stronger, so you pick up the pieces, pack up your boys, and take the next step. Waiting in an apartment down the way, a single mom named Eliska with two little ones of her own, becomes your best friend, your biggest ally, and the sister you never had. For the first time in your life you will experience the healing powers of female friendship. Oh - and "The Rachel" haircut.

You're 27...
it took some time, but you've discovered Mr. Right! He loves you, your boys, your hair, your baggage, and to prove it he hauled you off to a little chapel in Lake Tahoe and put a ring on it. (Beyonce will clear up this reference for you in a song someday. Pay attention.) I'd like to tell you that this is the happily ever after part, but I'd be lying. You're little girl, Kaitlyn, will only survive the 9 months that you are pregnant with her. Her silent birth will send you into the darkest period of your life, and even now, ten years later, I cannot find words of advice that will ease the pain of burying a child. What I can tell you is that you are surrounded by love, embrace it. Another child is in your future, he is not meant to replace his big sister, but he will save your life.

You're 33...
you've left California for a new life in Virginia, 3000 miles away from all you have ever known. For awhile you will kick and scream and every 2.5 days swear you are packing up and heading back home. Instead of throwing in the white towel, you will pick up a crochet hook, some yarn, and discover a whole new world of friendships. Nobody ever told you "hookers" were such cool people. Life is looking up. But you still don't have the guts to cut your hair like Posh Spice.

You're 37...
BMI and TMI and...IS THAT A GRAY HAIR??? Baby boy #1 is 18, Baby boy #2 is 15, and Miracle Boy #3 is 9. You tip the scale at 40 pounds over the 'target range' for your age and height. You sit down, with your slice of Mrs. Smiths Dutch Crumb Apple Pie (okay, with Cool Whip on top) and discover a Wii Fit giveaway contest and proceed to pour your heart out.....It's time to stop piling it in and start working it out....if only you can win this!

Much Love,
Me, Myself, and Irene

Children of the 80's

:)
This is one of the best emails I have received in a long time....which is why I MUST share it with you guys. Plus it eases the fact that I don't have a heck of alot of time to post anything else today. I don't know who the author of this masterpiece is, otherwise I would certainly give them credit & major kudo's. :)

ENJOY!!

If you are 30 or older you will truly appreciate this....


When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears, what with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were. When they were growing up; what with walking Twenty-five miles to school every morning.

Uphill.

Barefoot.

BOTH ways. Yadda, yadda, yadda...

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up? There was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it.

But now that... I'm over the ripe old age of thirty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today.

You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Utopia!

I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have The Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the dang library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalogue.

There was no email. We had to actually write somebody a letter.

With a pen.

Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would take like a week to get there. Stamps were 10 cents.

Child Protective Services didn't care if our parents beat us. As a matter of fact, the parents of all my friends also had permission to kick our butts! No where was safe.

There were no MP3' s or Napsters or Limewire. You wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself - or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ'd usually talk over the beginning and @#*% it all up!

There were no CD players. We had tape decks in our car. We'd play our favorite tape and "eject" it when finished and the tape would come undone. Cause that's how we rolled, dig?

We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting. If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal, that's it.

And we didn't have fancy Caller ID either. When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mom, your boss, your Bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent, you just didn't know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister.

We didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics. We had the Atari 2600. With games like 'Space Invaders' and 'Asteroids'. Your guy was a little square. You actually had to use your imagination. And there were no multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen forever!

And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died. Just like LIFE!

You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on. You were screwed when it came to channel surfing. You had to get off the couch and walk over to the TV to change the channel. There was no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning. Do you hear what I'm saying? We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled little brats!

You kids today have got it too easy.

You're spoiled.

You guys wouldn't have lasted five minutes back in the eighties. (OR before.)

Regards,
The over 30 Crowd

breathing.

Grief is such a confusing thing. You work hard to push away the sorrow, to reach back in time and extract only memories of happier, healthier times, so you can smile....but it seems that even when you are ok with someones passing because you know that they are no longer suffering, the pain is gone, and in Heaven they are made whole again (and, as I like to think, youthful) - the grief still seeps in, and the tears still pour out.

I really don't want to be consumed with sadness at Christmastime. This happened several years ago when my father passed away just before Christmas and I wasn't even left with the wherewithall to put up a tree. I can't go there again. No spiraling. No black holes. So yesterday I took a little drive to sort of give myself a "suck it up cupcake" pep-talk....the changing scenery was so pretty, the sun was shining, the air was crispy....and at the end of the road I was travelling was a YARN SHOP.

The Knitting Sisters in Williamsburg. I needed to pick out a little something for a gift exchange I am participating in over on Ravelry, and the store website said they would be open on Sunday for holiday shopping. Just what the doctor ordered!

Honestly, I am not all that in love (or even lust for that matter) with this shop. In fact, it sort of made me homesick for the other yarn shop I used to shop at. I don't mean that TKS is not nice, or worth the trip every now and then...it's just maybe...out of my league? I don't know.

On the surface, the knit sista's place has alot going for it - located in a quaint little shopping village, very picturesque with its double doors open to welcome visitors, hot cider & stale (but cute and festive!) cookies in the backroom. But scratch beneath that surface? Yeah, slim pickin's on EXPEN$IVE small skeins of yarn better suited to knitters. The store was hopping with customers though, most seemed to be visiting from out of town. Most also seemed to be AARP card carriers.

Ok, so I don't mean that in a derogatory way. Quite the opposite - cause I was beyond a shadow of a doubt, the youngest shopper there for the entire hour I squandered wandered! Also on the plus side, I was treated quite nicely by the staff even once they found out I had a low price limit. The novelty of my purchase being a gift for a fellow Ravelrer amused them and they offered some suggestions. This made me feel much more comfy...cause let me be honest, some of those price tags were makin' me shake in my Nikes. $45 for 130 yards of handpainted merino. $50 for an even smaller amount of cashmere. And how do I even know its really cashmere? I read not too long ago about some bogus labelling in the fiber industry, and since I'm not a spinner, or a farmer of critters (FarmVille not included), how could I be sure?

It wasn't hard to pick out something nice, altho not entirely easy to pick something that came within at the Secret Santa spending boundaries. But I did it. I love shopping for secret gifts. ****ON SECOND THOUGHT, This sentence has been edited out to avoid the 1 in a million chance that she reads this before she gets her present!**** I got some for me too, so I'll let ya know. Oh, and I also bought myself an Addi crochet hook. It has a grip handle on it, so it seems like it would be heavier than the average hook - but that thing is feather light! Can't wait to use it...maybe this evening if I can squeeze in some crochet time after the homework workshop with Max.

The homework workshop....ugh. I don't wanna go (kicking feet!). But I really could use some new tricks on how to make homework time "a pleasure for my child and me". I swear, if they give me just one brilliant, never-before-tried-in-my-household technique? I will hug them. Maybe even kiss them. Or bake them some cookies. Because that's how much I need their help.

Well kids, I should maybe get busy...I've got two packages to mail off today and that line at the post office can be brutal this time of year. Luckily the office is quiet today, allowing me slacker time....hey, don't judge! I had a crazy busy week last week and was on my own alot of the time, holding down the fort during rent week. No easy feat, considering my emotional state of mind. No days off for crying when the boss is in Vegas. But she truly deserved the vacation time, and I survived...and now I'm taking a breather.

Enjoy your day..and hug someone just because you can.


I promise I won't be that cheesy next time. It's just my mood today.

Goodbye Gran...

My granny passed away today at 4:18am California time. Her body just couldn't fight anymore....but today I imagine, God gave her a beautiful set of wings.

Monday is not my Fun day.

*Y a w n...
**S  t  r  e  t  c  h  h  h....
*Sigh. The weekend is over.

I wish it wasn't so, but it is. It's Monday and back to work time. Not that I didn't work all weekend, but it was work of a totally different animal. HOUSEwork. Normally I would consider that a foul word, but over the weekend I found it to be very relaxing. Stress relieving even. Yes, really. =)


Thanksgiving was lovely. Leftovers the next night, followed by a family game of Sequence, even better. Boys (hubby, middle son, bro in law) VS Girls (sis in law, neice, moi) and the boys won. We let 'em. You know boys can't lose to girls! 


The tree is up and looking so pretty.


I gotta admit though, last year when Craig brought home a faux tree in a box? I was not okay. I maybe even had an allergic reaction. Tree's don't come in BOXES. They grow, outside, and they smell wonderful. And then we kill 'em & drag 'em in the house where sap sticks like glue to your light strands and gift wrap and they lose little sharp pine needles into the carpet that you are still finding come Valentines Day. And it's all perfectly natural. It's part of the charm, the tradition.


But when I looked at him that day to give him my "what on Earth were you thinking" glare, I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him that I didn't love it. He was smiling from ear to ear, like a little kid who plucks a mustard weed flower and presents it to his mommy to wear in her hair.


"Look what I found on sale!" he announced. (This in itself was a Christmas miracle. My husband not only went shopping, he found a sale - and knew what to do with it! For some women this could be the equivalent to foreplay.)


"And it's pre-lit", he went on, "so no more tangled messes." He was armed with all kinds of chipper comments.


So I sucked it up, told myself I could do anything once, and decorated the damn thing and smiled anyways. I don't think he ever walked by the thing that he didn't declare his genius. Men.


But this year...this year as I hauled the boxed faux tree down from its hiding place, unraveled the bubble wrap, stuck it together & began to unfold it's hinged branches, a new feeling came over me. I decided I kinda like this tree. First of all, it's not costing me a penny this year. Make that first, second, and third of all - cause who has extra money laying around this year, right? And it also reminded me of another time when Craig brought me home a tree...


I was a single mama working my butt off just to keep the lights on and the fridge stocked. It was the first week of December and I hadn't even thought about getting a tree yet...so my grandmothers took it upon themselves to get one for me. It was small but fat, unevenly flocked white and ungodly ugly. Not that I don't like flocked or white Christmas tree's, because I totally do. But this one looked like an untrained monkey with a can of spray on snow had done the deed. Seriously, Charlie Brown's tree was better.


When I tucked the boys in bed that night I sat there looking at it and bawled. What was my world coming to?


Now I know that that probably sounds totally ridiculous and unappreciative, but I swear it wasn't like that. My grandmothers were notorious for taking charge (or just plain taking over) and it was like they didn't trust me to get my own stinking tree now that I was husbandless. It was about so much more than a Christmas tree...


Craig called me, we were only dating then, so he actually called me on purpose every evening that we didn't spend together just to say hi. (Ah, those were the days...) I tried to sound happy, but I sucked at faking it and when he asked what was wrong, boy did I tell him!


About an hour later there was a knock at my door. Looking through the peep hole I saw nothing but Douglas Fir green. That was the moment I knew I was falling in love. Craig and his cousin Barry went out and found me the perfect Christmas tree. Not too tall, not too short. Not too fat, and not too skinny. They even thought to bring along another tree stand.


We moved the little white tree to the boys bedroom, they were little enough to love it & I didn't want to hurt my grandmothers feelings either.


And then...we made room for the one he brought me in the living room.


And then...the day after Christmas, I made room for Craig to move in.

Home...from Home?

Well I am back...just not really back in action yet. I'm still adjusting my saddle.

My trip home was not the best. Despite the circumstances under which I was returning, I was still eager to get there and offer support and love. In the end, I was never so happy to land in VA and run (not walk) into my husbands arms for one of those dramatic, movie-esque embraces.

To sum it up, my grandmother is doing okay. Not good or great, but better, and lucky to be alive and breathing on her own. She will remain in the hospital awhile, regaining strength with the help of physical therapists and learning how to care for her new colostomy bag.

My great-grandmother, Bobby, is doing better than most 93 year olds...and yet I have to report that her age has finally caught up to her and she is acting it. I believe an assisted living home is in her future. Normally, the mere thought of that would sky-rocket me into a whirlwind of denial, claiming she wouldn't live an hour tucked away somewhere like that. But the truth is, she needs and deserves the 24 hour care that is offered. The only place that we would consider is a place I used to work - it's wonderful, impeccable in cleanliness and support staff. Many of the folks working there, from housekeepers to Director of Nursing to medical records, have family members there - so the cliche for them is no cliche at all. They really do treat residents like their own family. I'm more comfortable knowing she would be in a place where she is never alone, where she won't be put down or expected to "carry her weight"....I hope to see her go to live there after the holidays.

The above crap stems my grandfather. He is a man who has known Bobby since he was 12 years old, long before he married my grandmother (Bobby's daughter). In his emotional state of dealing with all that has happened with Gran, he has become a tyrant at home. My mom says to cut him slack, he is running on E with having to work to maintain his own health benefits, spend time at the hospital, and take care of household chores. BUT THAT WAS WHY I WAS THERE! Hello! And his love for Granny should by no means be his excuse for mistreating others.

He yelled at Bobby for changing the heater setting. I get the frustration of the house being overly warm (downright hot) and the power bill being excessively high, but you EXPLAIN. You don't jump all over someone when they aren't expecting it - most especially when they are ninety-freaking-three years of age. He got onto her about me doing her laundry and fixing her food. He asked her what she was going to do when I went home, that she better get herself up and about because his priority is Gran, who will not be able to come home and do all those things for her own self, much less anyone else.

WTF right???

So I contacted a social worker from the department of aging, she came out to help put things into place to make life easier. Like someone to grocery shop, help with bathing (she doesn't need that, but there could come a time), general household stuff - just until the time comes that Bobby needs to enter assisted living.

Gramps doesn't like the "charity" of it all. He's being an ass. But its not FOR him, and he needs to realize that. And it's not charity, services require payment.

As we entered the hospital parking garage one day, my grandfather joked with the parking attendant "Hey, can I get a discount since I'm a regular?" (he can be nice as pie to everyone else) and it turned out that yes, he could. After 2 weeks of visiting an immediate family member who is in the hospital, they give out free parking passes. The guy tells us to stop back by the booth on the way out & he would have the form for us to fill out & give Gramps his pass. This saves $3 for each time he goes - which is sometimes more than once a day. It can add up. As we are leaving, he damn near puts pedal to the medal as we speed up the ramp to exit the garage and I was all "Um, Gramps? We were supposed to stop for the parking pass....." - to which he says:

"I don't need no G*ddamned charity, I can pay to park."

And he didn't say it with pride, he said it with disgust. Like a jerk.

I left Saturday morning, a friend picked me up and I spent the night at her house so she could take me to the airport an hour away at 4 am, but before I could escape, he rattled my cage one last time.

He stops in the hallway outside "my room" and starts in..."you know, I know you think I'm an ass for talking (talking?! HA! its called yelling bucko! anyways...) to Bobby the way I do, but I really don't care. You don't live here, you don't know. You say you would take her to Virginia if you could, but even if you did she doesn't have 17 years left to live so you will never have to deal with what Gran and I have...." then some more blah blah blah about his only concern being my grandmother and everyone else can hop on a rolling donut.

Thanks Grandpa. That you SO effing much. I'm ever so glad I could hop a flight at your request to come here, 3000 miles away from my husband and children and job where I am not getting paid for the time off right before the holiday season, and try to help even though it was just to play mediator between you and your mother in law of 58 years. (SCORE: Run On Sentence!)

Does Hallmark make a thank you card for THIS occasion??

Let me just say - and I reminded him of this too - that Bobby did not ask, want to, or need to move in with them 17 years ago. They pushed her to do so and she has hated it ever since. Why? Because Granny has to have her house JUST SO...which means Bobby had to get rid of all her stuff that wouldn't fit into her bedroom and bathroom. Shortly after, Gran had a stroke and Bobby took care of her until she regained her abilities again and did so with love & understanding - while Gramps continued to drive long haul as a truck driver back then. So yeah, it has mostly been Bobby taking care of them, NOT the other way around.

And my mom is another story...

She spent 10+ years in Alaska and has recently returned to California to be closer to them now that I am across the country. She still made sure she has a 4 hour buffer zone tho. I have seen my mom one time in five years - and that was when we went up to visit her while she was in DC for the weekend. Do you think she made the 4 hour drive up while I was there? Nope. She took a break and stayed home. Apparently, I do not rate high enough on her richter scale.

Sorry for the pity party mix of emotions. I am glad, mad, and sad all at the same time.
Glad I went to and tried my best.
Mad that it wasn't appreciated.
Sad that I wasn't able to reach out to anyone else while there.

The friend that picked me up, I never saw her again all week. The friend that took me there I got to spend an evening with. Other than that - no one. I didn't have a vehicle to use. I didn't feel right leaving Bobby when I was supposed to be there for her.

In the end...I never even made it to my daughters grave. That's what truly breaks my heart, made me cry all the way home.

I have vowed to never return to California again without my husband. I do not have what it takes to go home alone anymore.

I am a wife, a mother, a friend, and I have a life here. It may not be recognized by my family, but I do.

And I refuse to compromise it again.

Heading Home...

*
Heading Home is always sort of bittersweet, and this time is no different. It's not under the best of circumstances (Gran is not doing well), but it's not under the worst either (she's still fighting the good fight).


I spoke to my Gramps last night and he asked me to come. This very simple request is one of the most moving things I have ever been asked. Gramps doesn't ask for anything, he believes in giving people wings and then stepping back as they fly on their own in whatever direction they choose. He doesn't believe in holding people down, rooting them to an uncomfortable place. He was the ONLY one in support of our move to Virginia four years ago. He also believes in digging your heels in, reaching down into your gut, and doing what needs to be done no matter how hard - and not complaining about it. And now he has asked for me. For my help. Old dogs do change.


For the first time, I will be returning home more than a daughter and a granddaughter. For the first time, I will be returning home as someone who is needed.


It feels good and it makes me sad....because the last time I took this role on was when my father was dying of cancer. I was the one he wanted, asked for, relied upon, needed. It felt good to know that he was leaving this life knowing I was right there....just like he was when I came into it.


My plane leaves Sunday. Right now that seems forever away but I know time will begin to slip away as I get busy making sure the cupboards are stocked, the fridge is full, and a menu plan is in place. Sure, I've got a husband that can cook and an 18 year old who is level headed and a 15 year old who will totally look after the 9 year old. But they are all male - dain bramage sets in when it comes to the running of a household. If I don't give them idea's as to what to do with the food, they will eat it all in no particular order, in the first 3 days.

My work is cut out for me.

From G-Bunny's™ trip this past summer to visit the G-Parents...

Below is about 10 years ago...

Emotional Wreck

My heart and my head are all jumbled up right now. My other grandmother, Mary, who is my mom's mom - and the daughter of Bobby who I have talked about before - is not doing so well. She had surgery last Wednesday to remove a portion of her colon that was all twisted up. She seemed to be doing well in the couple of days following, but something happened late Friday night/wee hours Saturday morning that had them rushing her back into surgery to remove her entire colon. She is back in ICU "holding her own" as they say. My mom is frantic because my grandpa is frantic. Last month my grandparents celebrated 58 years of marriage, and they have known each other since they were 11 and 13 - an entire lifetime. My mom and my grandpa are totally father/daughter - they are not people who get frantic or break down or get emotionally distraught even in the midst of devastating news. They are not emotionless or cold, they are just quietly stoic people I guess. Just not when it comes to Gran....who can blame them?

So I am sitting here 3000 miles "from sea to shining sea" away from them...waiting for news. And praying.

*****

In totally unrelated news....I followed this link on the email from Michaels Arts & Crafts and discovered Vanna is at it again! She's having her 2nd annual contest for crocheters and knitters. Anyone in the mood to win a $1000 bucks worth of yarn? 

http://www.vannaschoice.com/

CUT. IT. OUT.

Ok kids, Mama needs a new pair of scissors. Do any of you artsy farsty types have a preference or any suggestions?

No, seriously. I would never joke about something that can cost upwards of FORTY BUCKS.

Scissors are no laughing matter to crafty people. I have scrapbooking scissors, they're ok. I have a pendant yarn cutter, it's pretty nifty. But neither offer me the cutting power I so desire.

I have never really bought anything more than the generic blue-handled variety pack and they get used by everyone for everything. I do generally try to keep one pair for just me, but that never lasts. Once I had a pair of those teeny tiny embroidery kind that look like an elongated stork? Yeah, my husband promptly turned them into nose hair clippers. Something about the long slender tips getting the job done. Ew.

Moving on...

I need a good, sturdy, sharp pair for cutting yarn, ribbon, and fabric.

A pair that screams "Behold! Mom's Sacred Scissors! Toucheth Not!"...or ye shall be doomed to folding laundry for all of your days...

This will cost me, and I am prepared for that, but before I do I just would like a little guidance from my bloggy pals. So whatch'ya got for me??

Move over Hugh Jackman...

...cuz...
THERE'S A NEW WOLVERINE IN TOWN!

After years and years of dressing kids for Halloween, this year I just had one. My little guy Max. Saturday night was so bittersweet...as I  smeared eye shadow into makeshift sideburns on his cute little face, I couldn't help thinking back over all the various costumes my three sons have donned throughout the years. Some over the top, some not, some store bought & some? Down righ bada$$ creations.

This year Max's outfit was simple, with Wolverine it's all about the claw anyways. And the hair - gelled, ratted, & sprayed to comic book hero perfection. Oh and the "slice n' dice" expressions - which my boy totally owns!

Isn't he cute???

Ooops ~ Not him!

I meant this guy...

Hey, were'd he come from again?

Ok, clearly Hugh is getting a little jealous of Max. Sheesh!

Show em' who's boss baby boy!

Meet Audriana, Newest Future Housewife of New Joyzee

Until she get's a head full of big hair like her mama & sisters, this little Jersey Girl is sporting some crocheted adorableness.

Crocheted ribbon? Sweet! I wonder if Mutha Theresa scored these on ETSY???

Now this last one is not crocheted, but it's certifiably cute, so I couldn't resist.

I love the flamboyancy...it's not something I can pull off personally, but I always appreciate it in those who can...

I guess the cats out of the bag now, huh?

Color me red, I'm a Bravo TV junkie.

There I said it.

I watch staged-reality tv.

I watch all the Housewives shows.

Intently.

Possibly with fervor.

And popcorn. 

I don't know why.

I'm not into a lot of TV shows anymore, I'm not normally a trainwreck looky-loo-er, I wouldn't be into Twilight or Edward Cullen even if I was a tween, and yes, I do have more important things to do with my time.

But I can't help it.

It's my guilty pleasure #42.

And now they've gone n' incorporated crochet into it....gah!

Put a Bonnet On It!

A couple weeks ago, Miss Sarah of Sarah's SweetHearts made the cutest bonnet for her little girl and I fell head over heels for it. So she sent it to me as a suprise in the mail!!!

(BTW, it's really called a Maid's Sweet Ruffle Cap)

I'm a sucker for handmade, homemade, sweet goodness!! Make's my heart melt.

I know it's not something a mama in this day and age can run around wearing and get away with, but you can if your stomping grounds are Colonial Williamsburg!

Everyone there wanders about in period clothing & it just makes me feel like I'm living in a Jane Austen book. Yes, yes, I know. Jane Austen stories are set in England, not on American soil. Still, thats just how it makes me feel.

I don't have all the right attire to go traipsing about just yet, but this bonnet totally inspires me to get my historical groove on. I need a petticoat and a big fluffy dress, like the kind the ones worn by Emma,Jane, Elizabeth, or maybe Fanny Price!