I have so many ideas and stories floating around in my head that I feel stuck sometimes. I could blog something every single day, but there's so much to say that sometimes I can't even begin! I start writing about one thing and another five try to sneak in. The blog I wrote about my cell phone had an entirely different slant in the beginning. I wrote the last sentence, and realized it should be the first sentence. "Oh no, really? Crap, now I have to rewrite this whole thing!" I might add I was writing on my big yellow pad, which I prefer to just plunking things out on the keyboard like I am now. So yeah, I had to edit it by hand. Lots of scribbling, numbers on paragraphs, and then I began again. It took most of that Sat afternoon to get the story where I wanted it to go. Even though the place we ended up wasn't what I was aiming for.
My last blog, "Settin' Step" was written in 15 minutes on a big white pad that I have at work. I was finishing up some work stuff during the kids nap time, when I just suddenly grabbed the big yellow pad I keep on my desk, sat down with a few kids who were coloring quietly and wrote it out. There were no scribbles, and not much to edit when I put it on here. I looked over at Britt, my assistant of the day, and said "Look, a blog! Sometimes it amazes me when the words just spring forth like that." Tucked it in my pocket to post later and moved on with our afternoon.
I'm not complaining, I welcome the rush of thoughts, ideas, dreams, and what-nots floating around in my head. I didn't realize how much I missed them. For years I was too caught up in someone else's life and issues that I didn't even notice the silence. That lesson was learned long ago, but still the stories were quiet, buried under a pile of hurt and loss. There are parts of my life I choose to gloss over because the memories are just too painful. I'd love to say I've forgotten them, but that isn't the case. In doing so I protected myself, but shut off the most important part of me.
Once I started reconnecting with family and friends from long ago on Facebook last winter the memories refused to be shut away any longer, and the stories came flooding back. It certainly wasn't the object of joining, and it's an odd form of therapy, but it worked. So now I just have to learn how to straighten the jumble out that's in my head, and put it to words on "paper". Sounds easy enough, but I'm doubting it's going to be!
Life Lessons
IF YOU GET A CHANCE, TAKE IT! IF IT CHANGES YOUR LIFE, LET IT!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Settin' Step
I am a "setter". From the time I was old enough to stay out past the street lights coming on you would likely find me settin' on the front porch steps of my parents house staring at the night sky. Daydreaming away the end of the day, while looking up at the stars through the big pine branches that partially covered the sidewalk.
Each place I have lived that was really home to me had a settin' step. A quiet place of my own to watch the world go by, or in some cases hide away from it. I can see myself as an old woman, settin' on my front porch watching the neighborhood kids play, the birds flit around, or just enjoying the quiet of my garden growing. That's how I hope it will be anyway.
The four plex I live in now has huge cement front steps that are perfect for settin'. It's also a shady afternoon spot, so sometimes you will even find me settin' on them reading a book. I have comfy chairs in the backyard, but the porch steps always seem to be my choice.
When Sam (the dog) spent more time in town with me she and I would sit in the mornings on the steps and watch the dogs and their owners prance around the neighborhood. I don't even have to put Sam on a tether to do it, she's that well trained. (for which I take no credit) In the afternoons we would sit in the shade and enjoy a breeze, and at night we would sit in the dark and wait for Leon to come home from work, or the races. Seems she's a "setter" too, although she's a shepherd mix.
Just last night a little before ten Leon called to tell me to look at "your full moon". We had noticed it while walking the night before big and yellow rising in the country sky. "Walk out your front door and you'll see it." There it was, peeking over the four plex across the street on the corner, so I set awhile, talking with him and watching the bright yellow moon rise.
I have lived in a couple of places that I never really cared for. My first two apartments, and the mobile home in Homecroft. I really never felt any of these places were my home, or somewhere I belonged. For whatever reason I could not find a comfortable settin' step at any of them. Homecroft even had two decks, but it didn't matter. It's more than a step, it's also the view. Perhaps quite possibly the company has something to do with it too.
I don't know how he knows these things, but this weekend Leon fixed the back steps and made me a "settin' step". We've never discussed my need for a place like that, he just wanted to make the giant steps a little easier for these short legs to manage. Ok, he probably doesn't want me to drop the food when I'm bringing it out that way to the grill. It was sweet, no matter the reason. So he finishes up and says, "Look! A settin' step!" How does he know? It's the perfect place to watch the country world go by. An ideal spot to watch him cut the grass on the hill, which is hilarious by the way. Just the right place to set with a cold drink and watch over our dinner on the grill, and to lean back for a perfect view of the country night sky, which is phenomenal. A perfect spot to drink my morning coffee with Sam, who is the worlds best dog. Even if her owner doesn't think so at the moment.
Each place I have lived that was really home to me had a settin' step. A quiet place of my own to watch the world go by, or in some cases hide away from it. I can see myself as an old woman, settin' on my front porch watching the neighborhood kids play, the birds flit around, or just enjoying the quiet of my garden growing. That's how I hope it will be anyway.
The four plex I live in now has huge cement front steps that are perfect for settin'. It's also a shady afternoon spot, so sometimes you will even find me settin' on them reading a book. I have comfy chairs in the backyard, but the porch steps always seem to be my choice.
When Sam (the dog) spent more time in town with me she and I would sit in the mornings on the steps and watch the dogs and their owners prance around the neighborhood. I don't even have to put Sam on a tether to do it, she's that well trained. (for which I take no credit) In the afternoons we would sit in the shade and enjoy a breeze, and at night we would sit in the dark and wait for Leon to come home from work, or the races. Seems she's a "setter" too, although she's a shepherd mix.
Just last night a little before ten Leon called to tell me to look at "your full moon". We had noticed it while walking the night before big and yellow rising in the country sky. "Walk out your front door and you'll see it." There it was, peeking over the four plex across the street on the corner, so I set awhile, talking with him and watching the bright yellow moon rise.
I have lived in a couple of places that I never really cared for. My first two apartments, and the mobile home in Homecroft. I really never felt any of these places were my home, or somewhere I belonged. For whatever reason I could not find a comfortable settin' step at any of them. Homecroft even had two decks, but it didn't matter. It's more than a step, it's also the view. Perhaps quite possibly the company has something to do with it too.
I don't know how he knows these things, but this weekend Leon fixed the back steps and made me a "settin' step". We've never discussed my need for a place like that, he just wanted to make the giant steps a little easier for these short legs to manage. Ok, he probably doesn't want me to drop the food when I'm bringing it out that way to the grill. It was sweet, no matter the reason. So he finishes up and says, "Look! A settin' step!" How does he know? It's the perfect place to watch the country world go by. An ideal spot to watch him cut the grass on the hill, which is hilarious by the way. Just the right place to set with a cold drink and watch over our dinner on the grill, and to lean back for a perfect view of the country night sky, which is phenomenal. A perfect spot to drink my morning coffee with Sam, who is the worlds best dog. Even if her owner doesn't think so at the moment.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Grandma
My Grandma Lenihan's birthday would have been last week. I have to pause a moment to do the math, but I believe she would be 114 years old. As it was, she lived to be 94, dying just a week or two after that birthday.
I happened to be channel flipping while dinner was on the grill Saturday night and came across the Lawrence Welk Show. It always makes me think of Grandma. She stayed with us every weekend from the time I was very small until the year before she died. We had to watch that damn show every Saturday night at 6pm, no matter what. When we were little the three of us would turn the lights off and spin around the room. When I was older I would disappear until 8pm when Love Boat came on.
For whatever reason, I used to get so angry about that show having to be on. I never disrespected my Grandmother, but my Mom got an ear full to be sure, and probably on a weekly basis. At least a really good eye roll and a SIGH before I disappeared into my room to crank some Def Leppard.
One night a few years ago, I was babysitting Ashlyn, Hannah, and Caitlin, and happened to come across the show on PBS. I was excited to share the experience with my little nieces so we flipped off the lights and spun around the room in the dark to the champagne music. The little ones loved it, the older one rolled her eyes, and I was reminded again that spinning is NOT a good idea. Each passing year the motion sickness gets a little worse.
Leon came into the house, walked into the living room, took one look at the TV and asked if I was trying to kill him. The clarinet guy was playing. You know the one, he has the black square glasses! I explained about Grandmas birthday, and kind of choked out that I would just like to watch it for a few minutes. "Awwww, baby, it's o.k. You can watch it." was his sweet reply.
Just then the show switched to a choir that started to sing "How Great Thou Art" and I about came unglued. I started yelling, "Change the channel, oh God! Change the channel!" Yep, there's that look again, my crazy must be showing. I murmured something about them playing it at her funeral. What I didn't say, and probably should have was that it was played at all of their funerals. It's a Catholic favorite, and I can't bear to listen to it. So my little moment of tribute ended on a bad note, but for a few minutes I remembered, and shared a moment with Grandma across the Great Divide.
Happy Birthday Grandma. You were never really big on celebrating it, so I'll just sing you a song. You used to love to listen to me sing.
"Good night, sleep tight, and pleasant dreams to you. Here's a wish, and a prayer that all your dreams come true. And now til we meet again. Adios, Au Revoir, Avedersein....... good night."
I happened to be channel flipping while dinner was on the grill Saturday night and came across the Lawrence Welk Show. It always makes me think of Grandma. She stayed with us every weekend from the time I was very small until the year before she died. We had to watch that damn show every Saturday night at 6pm, no matter what. When we were little the three of us would turn the lights off and spin around the room. When I was older I would disappear until 8pm when Love Boat came on.
For whatever reason, I used to get so angry about that show having to be on. I never disrespected my Grandmother, but my Mom got an ear full to be sure, and probably on a weekly basis. At least a really good eye roll and a SIGH before I disappeared into my room to crank some Def Leppard.
One night a few years ago, I was babysitting Ashlyn, Hannah, and Caitlin, and happened to come across the show on PBS. I was excited to share the experience with my little nieces so we flipped off the lights and spun around the room in the dark to the champagne music. The little ones loved it, the older one rolled her eyes, and I was reminded again that spinning is NOT a good idea. Each passing year the motion sickness gets a little worse.
Leon came into the house, walked into the living room, took one look at the TV and asked if I was trying to kill him. The clarinet guy was playing. You know the one, he has the black square glasses! I explained about Grandmas birthday, and kind of choked out that I would just like to watch it for a few minutes. "Awwww, baby, it's o.k. You can watch it." was his sweet reply.
Just then the show switched to a choir that started to sing "How Great Thou Art" and I about came unglued. I started yelling, "Change the channel, oh God! Change the channel!" Yep, there's that look again, my crazy must be showing. I murmured something about them playing it at her funeral. What I didn't say, and probably should have was that it was played at all of their funerals. It's a Catholic favorite, and I can't bear to listen to it. So my little moment of tribute ended on a bad note, but for a few minutes I remembered, and shared a moment with Grandma across the Great Divide.
Happy Birthday Grandma. You were never really big on celebrating it, so I'll just sing you a song. You used to love to listen to me sing.
"Good night, sleep tight, and pleasant dreams to you. Here's a wish, and a prayer that all your dreams come true. And now til we meet again. Adios, Au Revoir, Avedersein....... good night."
Monday, July 19, 2010
Oh Hell, It's My Cell.
I have a love/hate relationship with my cell phone. Three years have gone by since my first cell phone purchase, and I confess, I'm still using the original cheap cell phone. I hate change in any form, so "new every two," just doesn't appeal to me. Hooking myself into a two year contract with any company for anything doesn't float my boat either. I like my company, but if something goes wrong I don't want to be stuck.
I struggled against the cell phone craze because in my opinion, people just don't need to be able to get a hold of me every minute of every day. When I started dating David and was driving up to Two Harbors every weekend, he and my sister Kate talked me into getting one. Kate was concerned about roadside safety, but I'm pretty sure David's motives ran more along the lines of having to know where I was every minute of my life.
I am more connected to my cell phone than I intended, or wanted to be. I really think that the cell phone companies have turned us into a community of Pavlovian dogs. When the phone rings, or the bell for a text sounds most people, myself included, jump for the phone. I don't like it. In many situations it's down right rude.
The think I love about having a cell is the basically the same thing that I hate. (yes I'm aware that I have problems) I like being connected. My sister has had very serious health issues and I have a desperate need to keep contact with her. Even more so since CeCe has come into their lives. I don't need to spend hour upon hour speaking with her, I just feel very unsettled if I am somewhere that she can't reach me, or vise versa.
The day I arranged a trip to the library to get books for my class ( I really did go to the library) during my planning time, solely because I had forgotten my cell phone and wanted to swing by home and grab it, I knew I had a problem. I couldn't even tell you what was so important, and I only worked until noon that day as it was!
Whenever I spend a weekend in the country my cell phone goes dead. I start out with two or three bars and shortly after I arrive the phone is dead. Friday night I forgot the phone in my car. Saturday am was gorgeous and I wandered out with a cup of pecan coffee and the worlds best dog to rescue it, expecting the phone to be dead. To my surprise there were still two bars left. I put it back in my purse in the living room and went on about my day. Roughly three hours passed and I went to give my sister a call. Dead phone! Seriously? Ok.... The phone was in my car in the country all night long. The cell spends a lot of time in my purse and it doesn't just go dead. I'm starting to think the house is a cell battery Bermuda triangle!
So Friday night during my near panic attack when I realized the phone was in the car, Leon offered to go out in to the dark country night to retrieve it. My car is parked away from the house and i would most certainly take a spill in the dark trying to get to it. He looked at me in this way he has and said, "Why do you need it so badly?" The healthy person inside me was asking the same question. The answer? I didn't. I remembered that Kate has HIS number. ;)
I struggled against the cell phone craze because in my opinion, people just don't need to be able to get a hold of me every minute of every day. When I started dating David and was driving up to Two Harbors every weekend, he and my sister Kate talked me into getting one. Kate was concerned about roadside safety, but I'm pretty sure David's motives ran more along the lines of having to know where I was every minute of my life.
I am more connected to my cell phone than I intended, or wanted to be. I really think that the cell phone companies have turned us into a community of Pavlovian dogs. When the phone rings, or the bell for a text sounds most people, myself included, jump for the phone. I don't like it. In many situations it's down right rude.
The think I love about having a cell is the basically the same thing that I hate. (yes I'm aware that I have problems) I like being connected. My sister has had very serious health issues and I have a desperate need to keep contact with her. Even more so since CeCe has come into their lives. I don't need to spend hour upon hour speaking with her, I just feel very unsettled if I am somewhere that she can't reach me, or vise versa.
The day I arranged a trip to the library to get books for my class ( I really did go to the library) during my planning time, solely because I had forgotten my cell phone and wanted to swing by home and grab it, I knew I had a problem. I couldn't even tell you what was so important, and I only worked until noon that day as it was!
Whenever I spend a weekend in the country my cell phone goes dead. I start out with two or three bars and shortly after I arrive the phone is dead. Friday night I forgot the phone in my car. Saturday am was gorgeous and I wandered out with a cup of pecan coffee and the worlds best dog to rescue it, expecting the phone to be dead. To my surprise there were still two bars left. I put it back in my purse in the living room and went on about my day. Roughly three hours passed and I went to give my sister a call. Dead phone! Seriously? Ok.... The phone was in my car in the country all night long. The cell spends a lot of time in my purse and it doesn't just go dead. I'm starting to think the house is a cell battery Bermuda triangle!
So Friday night during my near panic attack when I realized the phone was in the car, Leon offered to go out in to the dark country night to retrieve it. My car is parked away from the house and i would most certainly take a spill in the dark trying to get to it. He looked at me in this way he has and said, "Why do you need it so badly?" The healthy person inside me was asking the same question. The answer? I didn't. I remembered that Kate has HIS number. ;)
Monday, July 12, 2010
Dreams
Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.
~Langston Hughes
When I was a child I spent at least half of my days dreaming. "She's a daydreamer. If she would only pay attention and apply herself she would do so well in class." That statement is written all over my grade school report cards, and if I had a dime for every time my parents said it to me I COULD have been the one paying the electric bill!
I have a few specific recollections about those dreams. First and foremost to become a grown up and control my own destiny. I actually referred to myself as "the star" during part of my formative years, so we'll assume some of those dreams included Hollywood! I know that after seeing the movie "Amy" I wanted to work in an orphanage and I spent a lot of time thinking about that. I also dreamed of being a Nanny from the minute I first saw "The Sound of Music." Being a singer also topped the list for awhile.
Somewhere along the line I guess I lost the ability to really daydream. I am going to assume it was the same time that I just stopped writing. I lost the ability to believe in those dreams, so I just stopped dreaming them. Somewhere I got the idea that they were nonsense, and the stories in my head went quiet. No, I do not hear voices. :) Some people face hard times and they get through them by turning to a dream world and away from reality. I faced them by turning off the dream world and facing the music. Now that I'm learning to balance my world the daydreams are quietly slipping back in.
Today's dreams are mostly of things I'd like to do, places I would like to go, people I would like to see. I get more serious every day about this writing business. Many people view daydreaming as foolish nonsense (Sister Lucy) but they couldn't be more wrong. I believe they help us figure out our destiny, and the way to reach it. Look at the list of things I mentioned in my childhood daydreams. They may not have turned out as a major focus in my life, but I have achieved every one. I have acted, and even won an award for it! I don't work in an orphanage, but honestly a day care center is about as close as you get these days. I was a Nanny for a year the minute I got out of High School, and I have been involved in several singing groups over the years.
So I'm back to staring out windows when I should be paying attention. Sorry Sister Lucy, the trees the wind and the sunny day are beckoning. I would much rather be amongst them in my mind than stuck inside with YOU. hehehe
~Langston Hughes
When I was a child I spent at least half of my days dreaming. "She's a daydreamer. If she would only pay attention and apply herself she would do so well in class." That statement is written all over my grade school report cards, and if I had a dime for every time my parents said it to me I COULD have been the one paying the electric bill!
I have a few specific recollections about those dreams. First and foremost to become a grown up and control my own destiny. I actually referred to myself as "the star" during part of my formative years, so we'll assume some of those dreams included Hollywood! I know that after seeing the movie "Amy" I wanted to work in an orphanage and I spent a lot of time thinking about that. I also dreamed of being a Nanny from the minute I first saw "The Sound of Music." Being a singer also topped the list for awhile.
Somewhere along the line I guess I lost the ability to really daydream. I am going to assume it was the same time that I just stopped writing. I lost the ability to believe in those dreams, so I just stopped dreaming them. Somewhere I got the idea that they were nonsense, and the stories in my head went quiet. No, I do not hear voices. :) Some people face hard times and they get through them by turning to a dream world and away from reality. I faced them by turning off the dream world and facing the music. Now that I'm learning to balance my world the daydreams are quietly slipping back in.
Today's dreams are mostly of things I'd like to do, places I would like to go, people I would like to see. I get more serious every day about this writing business. Many people view daydreaming as foolish nonsense (Sister Lucy) but they couldn't be more wrong. I believe they help us figure out our destiny, and the way to reach it. Look at the list of things I mentioned in my childhood daydreams. They may not have turned out as a major focus in my life, but I have achieved every one. I have acted, and even won an award for it! I don't work in an orphanage, but honestly a day care center is about as close as you get these days. I was a Nanny for a year the minute I got out of High School, and I have been involved in several singing groups over the years.
So I'm back to staring out windows when I should be paying attention. Sorry Sister Lucy, the trees the wind and the sunny day are beckoning. I would much rather be amongst them in my mind than stuck inside with YOU. hehehe
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Auntie Power
While I love writing my blog, I am not really a fan of reading them. I happened to stumble onto an interesting one today, or at least an interesting tidbit came out of it. I don't want to be a thief so I'll give her the credit. http://www.blogher.com/childfree-aunties-were-panks
It was part of a thread I stumbled into about women who are childless by choice. Since I resemble that remark I thought I'd take a peek. I found this acronym. PANK Professional Aunties No Kids. Yep, that's me. I am a PANK, and I'm pretty damn good at it! I am the back up parent, playmate, confidant, cookie maker, egg colorer, pool gamer, rock band singer, uno playing, special time with auntie gal. Who also knows how to bring the heat if she needs to.
I love spending time with Ashlyn, Paul (the artist formerly known as Pablo), Hannah, CeCe, and Caitlin. They are 13,8,6,5 and 4 respectfully. I have enjoyed watching Ashlyn grow up, and it's fascinating to be a part of the woman she will become. The other's are too little to think about those things yet, but we have a good time bashing around together.
I know that to some I, and other's like me, are an anomaly. I love kids, so they can not fathom why I do not yearn for a child of my own. Surely I must know that I am missing out on something? How can my life be complete?? I can't answer for others, just myself. I spend eight straight every day with four and five year olds. So I really don't think I've missed much. Coming home to a quiet house is a blessing I can not describe. When I choose to have children in my life outside of work time, there are five of them just waiting for Auntie to show up. It's all on my terms, and it's fabulous!!
When I was very young, I would say prior to 23 or 24 I did have some pangs about having a child. By the time I was thirty I had decided it pretty much wasn't for me. I would lovingly accept a child if God saw fit to torment me..... and he does have a wicked sense of humor, so I'm thinking when I'm about 44 or so.... but I you wont see me in my 50's trying to turn back time and have a baby! I don't regret the choice, and I'm pretty sure the fabulous five will be my pals til the end of my time on this earth.
It was part of a thread I stumbled into about women who are childless by choice. Since I resemble that remark I thought I'd take a peek. I found this acronym. PANK Professional Aunties No Kids. Yep, that's me. I am a PANK, and I'm pretty damn good at it! I am the back up parent, playmate, confidant, cookie maker, egg colorer, pool gamer, rock band singer, uno playing, special time with auntie gal. Who also knows how to bring the heat if she needs to.
I love spending time with Ashlyn, Paul (the artist formerly known as Pablo), Hannah, CeCe, and Caitlin. They are 13,8,6,5 and 4 respectfully. I have enjoyed watching Ashlyn grow up, and it's fascinating to be a part of the woman she will become. The other's are too little to think about those things yet, but we have a good time bashing around together.
I know that to some I, and other's like me, are an anomaly. I love kids, so they can not fathom why I do not yearn for a child of my own. Surely I must know that I am missing out on something? How can my life be complete?? I can't answer for others, just myself. I spend eight straight every day with four and five year olds. So I really don't think I've missed much. Coming home to a quiet house is a blessing I can not describe. When I choose to have children in my life outside of work time, there are five of them just waiting for Auntie to show up. It's all on my terms, and it's fabulous!!
When I was very young, I would say prior to 23 or 24 I did have some pangs about having a child. By the time I was thirty I had decided it pretty much wasn't for me. I would lovingly accept a child if God saw fit to torment me..... and he does have a wicked sense of humor, so I'm thinking when I'm about 44 or so.... but I you wont see me in my 50's trying to turn back time and have a baby! I don't regret the choice, and I'm pretty sure the fabulous five will be my pals til the end of my time on this earth.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Skippedydooda!
Here's to new friends! *clink of beer bottles* Yes, Skippy came over and joined us after his shift was over last night. Bought us a round of beer, and I even drank mine (gag) to be polite. Dang I hate that stuff. It was a gorgeous night on the outdoor patio of The Shack.
I finished up with Cierra's birthday party around 8pm, and arriving home I found myself to be very crabby and restless. Probably because I had missed my Friday night date with the girls. I put my belongings away, changed into some comfy shorts and was about to get settled with the Tudors on the television when my phone beeped. Text message from Lisa! Hmmmm I wonder where they have ended up tonight? Text reads "Skippy misses you." Ha, I'm sure. I was surprised they were still at The Shack. Kerri and Lisa usually have happy hour with me and then move along to other commitments, or other bars as the case may be. Now that summer is here, I fully intend to move along with them. The brown eyed man, whom I've seen an awful lot of lately, is busy at the races on Friday nights until fall.
So I put my fancy duds back on and headed over for a late happy hour. I could tell by the texts coming in that "happy" was an understatement for the gals. They had been there since five, and it was a promo night so there were contests, free glasses, etc. I could hear Kerri laughing when I got out of my car........
I made my way over to the table on the deck and was informed that Skippy would be joining us as soon as he was done. I chalked that up to some drunken nonsense and went inside to get myself a margarita. The bar was fairly empty, and no Skippy. I figured he had escaped out of a back door. So I ask John, the bartender....funny that we have no nickname for him... if PHIL was still working. "Yeah, he's around here somewhere." Then he came around the corner all smiles. "Hiya Skippy!" He confirmed that he would be joining us shortly, and I snagged my margarita and headed back to the patio.
So Skippy joined us, and ordered a round. We spent at least the next hour getting to know a little about him. He regaled us with hilarious stories about the women who come in there, and the propositions he gets. No wonder he blanched when we asked his name! At least we know we aren't the worst thing that crosses his path in a week, and we also found out that we are known as his "Friday night girls!" Plus, he seems to like the nickname. So we can keep using it (like anyone would stop anyway) without offending him.
So everyone raise a glass to my new friend Skippy! Sorry ladies, he appears to be very "taken". I must say, his girlfriend is a lucky lady. This young man (25 or so) appears to have a very good head on his shoulders...... and a pedal bike, that will probably have a white basket and a horn to go with it by next Friday. :)
I finished up with Cierra's birthday party around 8pm, and arriving home I found myself to be very crabby and restless. Probably because I had missed my Friday night date with the girls. I put my belongings away, changed into some comfy shorts and was about to get settled with the Tudors on the television when my phone beeped. Text message from Lisa! Hmmmm I wonder where they have ended up tonight? Text reads "Skippy misses you." Ha, I'm sure. I was surprised they were still at The Shack. Kerri and Lisa usually have happy hour with me and then move along to other commitments, or other bars as the case may be. Now that summer is here, I fully intend to move along with them. The brown eyed man, whom I've seen an awful lot of lately, is busy at the races on Friday nights until fall.
So I put my fancy duds back on and headed over for a late happy hour. I could tell by the texts coming in that "happy" was an understatement for the gals. They had been there since five, and it was a promo night so there were contests, free glasses, etc. I could hear Kerri laughing when I got out of my car........
I made my way over to the table on the deck and was informed that Skippy would be joining us as soon as he was done. I chalked that up to some drunken nonsense and went inside to get myself a margarita. The bar was fairly empty, and no Skippy. I figured he had escaped out of a back door. So I ask John, the bartender....funny that we have no nickname for him... if PHIL was still working. "Yeah, he's around here somewhere." Then he came around the corner all smiles. "Hiya Skippy!" He confirmed that he would be joining us shortly, and I snagged my margarita and headed back to the patio.
So Skippy joined us, and ordered a round. We spent at least the next hour getting to know a little about him. He regaled us with hilarious stories about the women who come in there, and the propositions he gets. No wonder he blanched when we asked his name! At least we know we aren't the worst thing that crosses his path in a week, and we also found out that we are known as his "Friday night girls!" Plus, he seems to like the nickname. So we can keep using it (like anyone would stop anyway) without offending him.
So everyone raise a glass to my new friend Skippy! Sorry ladies, he appears to be very "taken". I must say, his girlfriend is a lucky lady. This young man (25 or so) appears to have a very good head on his shoulders...... and a pedal bike, that will probably have a white basket and a horn to go with it by next Friday. :)
Friday, July 2, 2010
Special
Today my niece Cierra is five years old. For some children/families this is just another ho hum milestone. For our family is is a very special day. My sister and her husband brought CeCe home from Milwaukee WI in Sept of '05 when she was two months old. They were her foster family at first, and then about a year later the adoption went through. Cierra is "special." She was diagnosed with Down Syndrome, a valve problem in her heart, born addicted to coke, possible fetal alcohol too, she honestly looked like one of those babies you see in Ethiopia. Big head, big brown eyes staring at you, scrawny little body. I remember the tiny bottles my sister used to have to feed her every two hours or so. We honestly believe the state gave Tom and Kate a child they thought wouldn't survive.
Cierra's first major surgery came a few weeks after becoming part of our family. Her heart valve was repaired mid Sept, and then she began to thrive. She quickly became a happy CHUBBY baby, with the big brown eyes. People would always stop my sister and comment on the baby. They were, and still are drawn to CeCe. Her second major surgery was this past October, and she came through with flying colors. The specialist list that she has is staggering. The time my sister puts into her care is amazing.
After the last round of tests, CeCe is always having some test or another, one of the myriad of doctors wrote in his notes "severely developmentally delayed". This was extremely upsetting to my sister. Like every mother she understands her child's limits, but continues to hope and help her reach for the stars.
I don't see CeCe as "special." Not in the way it's meant. I don't see her as developmentally delayed, severe or otherwise. I don't see her as challenged, or as one asinine psychologist put it "retarded". (oh yes she DID.....they wont tell me her name) She is just Cierra. She is lovable, bossy, snuggly, demanding, easygoing, infuriating, like any other child. Her limits don't define who she is. Her small gains are amazing, and she teaches you not to take things for granted.
I suppose to my sister who works tirelessly taking care of her health concerns, and making sure that CeCe has every advantage possible it may seem for naught sometimes. It isn't. Kate, every extra therapy you drag her to helps, whether you see it or not. All of it is shaping her into the person she will become. You and Tom give her the love, and every opportunity to be the best CeCe that she can be. What more could any child ask for?
So Happy Fifth Birthday Cierra! You wont know what we're celebrating, you'll just be glad to see those kids who run around with you. Perhaps the pretty wrapping paper will hold your interest for a minute, the gifts wont. That group of people you love is going to sing the song you hate. I hope you don't cry......again. We really aren't trying to torture you, and our singing isn't THAT bad. You'll certainly enjoy the cake!! You are so very special, and Auntie loves you with all her heart.
Cierra's first major surgery came a few weeks after becoming part of our family. Her heart valve was repaired mid Sept, and then she began to thrive. She quickly became a happy CHUBBY baby, with the big brown eyes. People would always stop my sister and comment on the baby. They were, and still are drawn to CeCe. Her second major surgery was this past October, and she came through with flying colors. The specialist list that she has is staggering. The time my sister puts into her care is amazing.
After the last round of tests, CeCe is always having some test or another, one of the myriad of doctors wrote in his notes "severely developmentally delayed". This was extremely upsetting to my sister. Like every mother she understands her child's limits, but continues to hope and help her reach for the stars.
I don't see CeCe as "special." Not in the way it's meant. I don't see her as developmentally delayed, severe or otherwise. I don't see her as challenged, or as one asinine psychologist put it "retarded". (oh yes she DID.....they wont tell me her name) She is just Cierra. She is lovable, bossy, snuggly, demanding, easygoing, infuriating, like any other child. Her limits don't define who she is. Her small gains are amazing, and she teaches you not to take things for granted.
I suppose to my sister who works tirelessly taking care of her health concerns, and making sure that CeCe has every advantage possible it may seem for naught sometimes. It isn't. Kate, every extra therapy you drag her to helps, whether you see it or not. All of it is shaping her into the person she will become. You and Tom give her the love, and every opportunity to be the best CeCe that she can be. What more could any child ask for?
So Happy Fifth Birthday Cierra! You wont know what we're celebrating, you'll just be glad to see those kids who run around with you. Perhaps the pretty wrapping paper will hold your interest for a minute, the gifts wont. That group of people you love is going to sing the song you hate. I hope you don't cry......again. We really aren't trying to torture you, and our singing isn't THAT bad. You'll certainly enjoy the cake!! You are so very special, and Auntie loves you with all her heart.
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