Dec 28, 2010

And so it continues.....

I did it!  And, I'm actually looking forward to doing it again.  I know that's really weird but my parents always told me that when you get older you turn all weird and stuff.  I guess I used to call them weird?

Anyway, I went to the gym.  I didn't let my friend down by ditching her and letting her work out solo.  Although, there was potential for let down.  Who in the world can resist this:

Mommy?  You're leaving AGAIN?  You just got home from work....I haven't seen you all day long.  I had to go to the movies with daddy and eat popcorn and then we came home and played the Wii all day long and just lounged around.  Why can't you lounge around with me???

Oh son, I made a promise that I'm going to keep so I must go to the gym.  I'll only be gone an hour and then when I get home we can play!

He was happy with that and told me not to sweat too much because I stink when I sweat.  The nerve!

Two things I need to mention about yesterday's blog:

1st, I got a lot of lip from one person because of a certain beverage that I drink.  Which majorly sucked out loud because this person is, besides my husband and children and parents, one of the MOST IMPORTANT persons in my life!!!  I love him because he makes me laugh and I try with everything I have to make him laugh too.  Because, you know, laughter is the *best* remedy for anything...sickness, sadness, anger, turmoil, tragedy. Anything.  When you laugh it's fun right?  Also, you lose calories when you laugh.  Did you know that?  I think that's cool but apparently I'm not laughing enough because I'm still what these sweet people in the south call "a big girl".  Whatevs.  My sweet brother posted a comment on my Facebook page where I linked my blog last night.  And although he only said; "Diet Coke?.....Really?"  It sliced right through me like a knife.  I immediately tried to come back with some witty response because I wanted to make him laugh about it.  Even though it was written as "Diet Coke?.....Really?"  I read;

"WHAAAAAT!?!?! You drink Diet Coke?  How could you?  After all the memories we've shared of being siblings and the effort you and I have put forth to stay close and really be there for each other.  Sending silly texts, even drunk texts sometimes - 'June Cleaver' how could  you!  I know I haven't walked across burning searing hot coals for  you but really? You drink my competition??? 

All I could think of was how he truly may be thinking that I'm betraying him and that I really don't like him at all and that it's just one big giant facade, our sisterly/brotherly love.  So, I did a little research to try and find some products that I actually use without even knowing that I'm supporting him.  He served 23 years in the Air Force.  He fought for our Country on numerous occasions and it would only be the right thing to do, by supporting his civilian job now.  To give back, if I may. Did you know that PEPSICO owns brands like Frito-Lay, Tropicana and Gatorade?  And even when you're waking up bright and early in the morning for a hot bowl of steaming oatmeal, you would be supportive of him by choosing the Quaker Brand!  I'm totally impressed now.  As if I weren't already enamored with my brother and the effortless way he makes life *look* (I said look because, really, we all know that sometimes life can just suck eggs), now after a really simple search I find that with minimal effort on my part, I can still totally support him WITHOUT having to drink that nasty after tasting, other brand's diet soft drink.  I can still drink my diet Coke (sorry bro), and have my Doritos too!  I could even have a different item for every single meal in support of my brother and not have to give up my said favorite soft drink.  For instance;  I could wake up and have a bowl of Cap'n Crunch for breakfast, Life Cereal or even Oatmeal and drink a Starbucks Doubleshot or Frappuccino.  Check mark for support of your brother at breakfast time. For lunch a quick Quaker Rice Cake with peanut butter.  Another check mark for that there QUAKER Rice Cake! At the gym I could sport around my Propel Vitamin Enhanced Water.  Check!  Last, dinner time wouldn't be complete without the delicious Near East Side Dishes - Rice Pilaf for one, is pretty outstanding if you ask me.  Or, how about some Rice-A-Roni?  The San Francisco Treat has always been and continues to be a favorite in my house with a nice Steak from the grill.  Check.Mark! See - I support you brother, in EVERYTHING I do - just don't mess with my Diet Coke!

That brings me right into the second reason for this follow up post.  A really great friend of mine and the sweetest most elegant lady emailed and said;

Gen, saw your blog today about the new year diet....I'm with you's not the food with me.  Food just doesn't turn me on that much........."

And that's where it all went fuzzy to me.  My jaw almost hit the floor.  I was shocked and literally speechless.  That was it exactly!  I am cheating on my husband.  I am having a love affair with *food*!  Food turns me on!  I sat and thought about it and it's true.  Food can make me smile, cry, and has even angered me at times.  There are times when I bake or cook something that I just want to stare at it and not even eat it because it looks so pretty or I've worked so hard at it, that I don't want to ruin it.  I mean, who else do you know googles Pepsico products just to be sure she's eating the right ones as to not betray her brother?  I mean seriously, I can get pretty excited over a tortilla.  Yes, a really fresh homemade hot off the press tortilla.  There honestly isn't anything better. Well, add some real butter and that might be better than sex!

So needless to say, last nights prayers were a bit strange.  Although I believe that God knows everything we are thinking before we even think it, I have to wonder sometimes if He doesn't think I am the NUTTIEST person He has ever created.  They were on the lines of something like this:

Dear God,

Wow!  You really pulled that one off.  You scared me for a minute there - I thought you were going to let those dirty birds win.  And really, the 'Saints' should always be the winner because, h-e-l-l-ooooo - they're Saints, like You.  You get where I'm coming from right?  Also, if my brother is mad at me, like really mad because I don't drink Diet Pepsi, could You find a way for him to forgive me?  I know I'm his favorite sister and all and that should be enough for me but since I'm younger and a tiny bit insecure, perhaps you could make him laugh at me more?  I know that sounds totally strange but I never said I was normal, You should know that.  I'm not telling you how to run things and that You should listen to me but, it would help things a bit.  What?  Yes, I do believe I'm living right and so my requests to You should come very easy.  Yes, sir I will work on being a little nicer to my children.  Listen God, You're steering me off my course here.  I just have one more thing.  My eye's opened a little bit wider today when someone mentioned to me that she didn't get "turned on" by food.  I was a little bit appalled.  I thought to myself, and You probably heard because You are the all knowing and all but, who doesn't totally love food?  Why is it such a sin to be "*in love*" with food?  You created it right?  So, it's like, OK to be in love with it.  That's my thought process anyway so sweet precious Lord, will you PLEASE ask my sweet friend who is thin and pretty and elegant and just plain nice and probably doesn't have to lift a finger to stay in shape to find it in her heart make up with Food?  It's just unfair for her to have to go through life without the wonderful love affair I have with food.  She should feel that way too because it's well, a wonderful feeling! In fact, I wish that for everyone I come in contact with.  They should all love food the way I do.  What's that You say? Yes, yes I do live in Mississippi.  Yes, we are the fattest State.  Oh, want me to move to another state so I can get the rest of the Country on board!  I'll have to think about it and get back to You on that one.  I just love the South!  God, I love You and want You to have a good night and please for love of Christ will you shut that barking dog up next door?  Love You God! ~ Gen

That's just the kind of relationship we have, me and God.  I can talk to him like that.  I know that's why sometimes I have diarrhea in the morning or a slight headache. We have to live with consequences, but I know He loves the way I can just chit chat with him!

Dec 27, 2010

And so it begins.....

WHEW!  Christmas is over and until next year around Halloween, I'm so glad to see it go!

I've missed you my readers.  I've just been so busy running from here to there and I can promise you it was in more than just my underwear.  Somehow, I can picture myself jumping up out of bed and running around in nothing but my skivvies.  Alas, I didn't.  I actually took the time to put clothes on.  And, when I woke up this morning to go to work while my kiddos and hubby slept in, I have NO IDEA *HOW* I PUT THEM ON!  Yep, diet started today and there were no excuses.  My pants that used to be too big are slowly but surely beginning to fit and I do NOT under any circumstance want them to "fit" because of the number that sits in the waistband.  No, it wont happen.

So, in my dash to the kitchen this morning to throw something in a bag for lunch I also grabbed a plate of cupcakes, half a coconut cake, a box of chocolates and a box of almond roca.  I left a note to hubby that I was taking it to work for the vultures to devour since we didn't need it anymore.  While I was on my to work on the empty streets I was thinking how I could just sneak one cupcake and eat it really fast in the car and nobody would know!  I started to do it but then thought I would only be cheating myself out of the commitment to drop two sizes as fast as I can.  So, I pulled into the McDonald's!  Only, I wasn't in the drive through line.  I got out of my car and walked across parking lot. Yay for me, my exercise starts today! NO! I didn't go inside McDonald's.  Shame on you for thinking that I was going to devour a nice hot Egg McMuffin, or Country Style Chicken biscuit while washing it all down with the best ever Caramel Frappe'! Nope! In my arms I carried everything that I said I was going to take to work and dumped it into a garbage can that sat in the parking lot at McDonald's!!  Now, I have to hope that when hubby returns to work tomorrow he doesn't call anyone up here to ask how his coconut cake was!  But, if it were here, I would find some excuse to eat it and, I just don't want any temptations.

So far today has been OK, the first day is usually the hardest for me.  As long as I have my Extra Sugar free gum and my Coke Zero I think I'll be alright.  I'm really not looking forward to the gym tonight though.  I've made a commitment to a friend as well as my husband, that beginning today, I would join them at the gym for a workout for an hour after work every day.  The thing is, I haven't worked out for an hour in about a year and a half!  It's going to be brutal.  And since both my friend and husband know that I don't rely on my inhaler anymore I can't fool them by faking an asthma attack.  It used to work, really it did.  I wont try to find a way out of it this year.  I'll simply despise going to the gym and just trudge through it. Bleh.....

This is my warning:  I will be sugarless, and very worn out at the end of the night so tomorrow, watch out! My happy shoes are being parked for 75 days until I sail away to Mexico!

Dec 7, 2010

Maybe I'm NUTS

Do you dream? I can't remember the last time I had a dream.  The older (and more tired) I get, I think I just go into a coma and then God gives me a little push when it's almost time to wake up.

Last night however was a different story.

All throughout my day, I'm thinking of things to tell you.  I literally write my story in my head.  Sometimes I write little notes to remind myself of something funny that happened so I can play off of that.  Yesterday as I got home from work I felt like I had a million things to do.  Supper, homework, secret Santa, bathtime, cleaning up to get ready for BUNCO (at my house this month, YAY!), paint and you see where I'm going with this.  I feel like I have no time to spend with hubs.

So, last night while I was making some snacks for the office it felt like I hadn't heard hubs in a while.  I walked into our bedroom and he was busy replacing all of the pictures from my dresser. that he dusted. with pledge!  Wow!  A few minutes later I heard him in our living room.  SWEEPING!  This is really nice, I thought.  I have a great husband!

I alwasy check email and browse a few other blogs and wind down.  When I got into bed hubs was almost asleep and I just touched him and told him thanks.  I layed there for a long time thinking of what to tell you about him and just exactly how I was going to portray the wonderfulness of my guy.  I had it all planned out and then fell fast asleep.

And, so the dream begins.  I dreamed I was in a car accident in a Cracker Barrel parking lot.  I was meeting some of my girl friends so, I just went on in and I would deal with it later. Next scene is me walking out of the restaraunt noticing that my car is completely mangled and it's now pitch black outside.  I take a deep breath, close my eyes for a second and when I open them I'm at the opposite end of the parking lot away from where my car was.  Only, there was now a tow truck, rental car and car was running.  I faintly noticed my husband out of the corner of my eyes but when I focused he was gone.  Just like that.  I was calling his name and two people started walking toward me.  Only, it wasn't him or anyone I've seen in a very long time.  The closer they were to me, I was able to make out that it was my Aunt Linda and my cousin Jon.  What?! Why?  Oh my god, help me.  Why are they here?  Who sent them?  I was trying desperately in my dream to figure it out.  Instantly Jon handed me her cell phone and I was trying to dial my husband.  But each time I dialed the numbers exactly, completely different numbers were being entered and I kept getting people in China and I heard nothing but laughter.  I noticed that Jon had his arm around Linda and every time she said something to me the only thing that moved was her jaw.  Her eyes were glassed over and the rest of her body was motionless.  During my panic and fear of not ever finding my husband to tell him thank you for taking care of me, I discovered that her lips were painted on and her jaw was wooden.  She wasn't Aunt Linda at all, but a BEAUTIFUL Nutcracker and her keeper was her son, my cousin Jon.  Upon that realization, a rush of loud music over came the parking lot and my husband was shaking me awake!

I had a few seconds to put it all together and before I let him escape the bed I told him I loved him and he'd never know just how much I really appreciate every single thing he does for me.

He rolled his eyes, and headed to the shower.  I lay in bed wondering what that dream meant.  Hubs is always doing something fantastic and amazing for me, even though he doesn't have to.  It's never a second thought for him.  He does these things as though he wouldn't rather do anything but what he does for me.  For us, for our family.  Does he really, truly know how thankful I am? 

My only explanation for my Aunt being a Nutcracker is this;  the last blog I read showcased an AWESOME Nutcracker.  Perhaps I show my appreciation to hubs with Nutcracker mannerisms....wooden and motionless....(but painted so beautiful!).

Dec 6, 2010

So I got a little excited!

This weekend I turned into my mother.

It's not such a bad thing.

I've been pushing it off only because I wanted to be my own person.  But to be like her is wonderful, if I do say so myself.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my mom, she's my best friend.  Besides my sister who has taken a hiatus to even being my sister, and that's another story.

So, mom is this little tiny lady - and that is the only place we differ because, I AM NOT TINY - who has a whole bunch of spunk and can really tell you off if you displease her in any way. 

She likes to watch football and baseball.  She cooks so wonderfully, and takes care of her man.  She loves to read and watch sad movies with happy endings.  All things I love as well.

I had realized that I was becoming her the day I said "sorry" to my husband after an argument just so I could go to bed without being in a fight.  I can remember listening to my parents argue sometimes and my mom would cry sometimes and I'd tell her: "Mom, just go say you're sorry.  I hate it when you guys fight and dad is so stubborn that he'll never admit when he's wrong.  So, just go make up and tell him your sorry!"  She always did.  Just to keep the peace.  Well, I have done it once or twice and it just works.

So, hubs and I are watching the Saints game yesterday and I'm pissed.  Calling plays that Payton should do and he's not doing.  Suggesting loudly, that Drew should opt to pass the ball rather than run it.  I mean Chris Ivory did well yesterday but you'll never convince me that a run play is better when it's 3 and 18.  That's ridiculous.  At the end of the game the announcers couldn't understand what Sean and Drew were doing.  It was 4 and 2.  A long 2 yards at that.  38 seconds to go and Saints are down by 3. The punt team didn't come onto the field and Drew looks as if he'd just woken up from a little nap.  Looking left to right as the play clock dwindles down.  I'm thinking to myself;

"DUDE, you better hurry up!! And what the hell are you doing? You better settle for a field goal."

Two seconds on the play clock and the Saints call time out.  Whew, even though you wasted a time out at least you came to your senses and you're gonna kick it, tie it up and go into overtime.  So, they come back from commercial break and what do I see?  NOT THE PUNT TEAM AT THE LINE!  Drew Brees is back behind center and the play clock is winding down.  Hubs says:

They're gonna try and draw the Bengals offsides

No way, they'll never do it, Cincinnati is playing smart.  And trying to draw them offsides at the end of a game when you're three points behind is just stupid.  Totally LAME.  Even though it's legal, it's still totally stupid.  Like the "let's call time out right before the kicker kicks to try and throw him off".  That's legal too and just as stupid.

And, since everyone at home knew, surely the Bengals know.  They didn't.  Or, they did but couldn't help themselves.  Now, I was watching for it and I mean *really* watching.  The second #90 moved I knew it worked!!  And here goes me, channelling my mother;


Now, if you say that with as much emotion and excitement I did while jumping up and down, then you too have channelled my sweet mommy.  Except try not to scare the crap out of your kids like I did.  They'll never look at me the same again.

It's fun, and I am so glad to be just like her!

Dec 2, 2010

It's not Christmas morning, go back to bed!

My sweet, precious, darling children woke me up at 4:30 am this morning.  You know how when you're sleeping, and suddenly you're awake because someone is staring at you?  *Both* of them were on my side of the bed this morning bug-eyed, tight lipped and staring straight at me.

I felt them staring at me. 
I felt it through all the snoring and wild dreams. 
It scared the hell out of me. 
I didn't hear them.
They were both so quiet.

Until I opened my eye.

Being startled awake at 4:30 am is NOT my ideal way of waking up.  As it was already, I had to set my alarm clock early, I had to shave my legs, gah!

The second I opened one eye they both busted out laughing.  They had been standing there trying desperately to be as quiet as possible and it was KILLING them.

I jumped out of bed and pushed them down the hallway to their bedroom as I cursed under my breath.  I firmly whispered "You boys are *lucky* you didn't wake your father up!  Get back in bed and DO NOT get out of this bed until I come get you!"

When I got back in bed I laid there and tryed with everything I had to go back to sleep but I couldn't help cracking up myself.  I mean think about it.  It's 4:30 in the morning, you and your brother are standing in the pitch black, staring at your mom, listening to her snore and you're trying as hard as you can not to make a sound.  Everytime I thought about it I laughed harder, because I know the real reason they were up so early.

It's not their fault mommy and daddy made them go to bed, lights out, tv off "dont come out of this room unless there is a true emergency or you're bleeding so help me, good night!" at 8 pm.

That will be the LAST time I forget to tell him Happy Anniversary!

Dec 1, 2010

I'm Glad I Jumped

I wasn't ready for it at all.

I didn't look for it to happen, I wasn't even trying.

She asked me if she could.  I told her yes but there were conditions.

It had been at least 10 years since I'd done anything like it, but only 1 year had gone by where it was even allowed.

Weeks had gone by since I gave her permission.  Then on a really crappy, rainy day it happened.

The guy "I just haaaaaaaad to meet" according to my hair stylist, finally dialed the only number I would allow her to give him. I can imagine he was mustering up some courage to call some chick who would only give out her work number.

And I don't know what happened because all of the sudden something weird was happening in my tummy.  I mean, I hadn't even seen the guy!  It was just so much fun to talk to him on the phone! He was so funny and intelligent, and polite and I began to look forward to his call every afternoon.

After three weeks, he still only had one number where he could reach me. I guess you could say we were PHONE DATING because we hadn't yet met face to face.  We had gotten to know each other quite a bit over the telphone by then, and one Friday he asked me over to his house.

I was so nervous I couldn't even stand myself.  I called my hair stylist up that day and told her it was the day I was finally going to meet him.  She begged me to come to her salon so she could straighten my hair.  I had NEVER had my hair straightened and I guess now is as good a time as ever.  I was dressed casually in what I had worn to work.  It would have to be ok becuase I didn't have time to go all the way home.  I freshened up my make up at the salon and downed two glasses of wine.  I don't think my nerves allowed the alcohol to affect me.  Driving from the salon to his house felt like the longest 8 miles I had ever driven.  It certainly took longer than it should have considering, just before I reached my destination, I stopped to vomit on the side of the road!  I rinsed my mouth out with the hot Coke that had been in my cup holder all day in the sun and shoved a piece of gum in my mouth just before I pulled into his driveway.

I saw him standing in the door jam of his front door and I that is when I breathed out for the first time since I manuvered my car back onto the highway after throwing up.  Everything was going to be ok, he was tall and handsome and still had hair.  WHAT!? He was 6 years older than me and I just knew that I was headed to meet an older gentleman with grey hair or no hair at all!  When I walked up the sidewalk, he rushed me inside the door and shut it quickly while saying; "hurry inside, I don't want any of my neighbors to see you!"

That was the first time I slapped him and after 8 years of togetherness, it certainly wasn't the last time I slapped my husband of 4 years today.

I really couldn't be the person I am today without him.  He is the other half of me, the half that keeps me grounded and sane.  He is my rock when I feel like a pebble.  He is the smile, that keeps me smiling back and I love him more than he will ever know.

Happy Anniversary funny guy! 

Nov 24, 2010

I am so Thankful because God is good. All the time!

The time was approximately 9 pm one Wednesday evening.  I had just laid the armload of things down on the tiny dining room/kitchen/coffee table.  I sat on the couch/bed and removed my shoes.  My feet were aching from standing on them for the 8 additional hours of work I willed myself to do so I wouldn't lose my apartment.  I was going through some very hard times.  But, no matter how hard they get, God is good. All the time.

I reached for the light switch and suddenly the ringing phone broke the dark silence. When I answered the phone, the voice that said my name was unrecognizable.  It was as though there were hundreds of miles between us and not a clear telephone connection.

The man on the phone but so far away sounded afraid. He sounded llonely. He sounded hurt.

The next words that came through the earpiece crippled me, leaving me in a heap at the floor.

Genny, your mother has had a heart attack.


Please call your brothers Genny, and get here as fast as you can.

I couldn't speak, I swear I was just nodding my head.  But he knew I would be there for him.  He knew I would do everything I could to keep him strong.  I got the number of the payphone he was standing at and told him not to move.  I told him that God will be with her because, God is good.  All the time.

Within the next few hours, two of my brothers and my sister and I already had our plane tickets to Albuquerque.  I learned the details of my mothers accident and didn't know what to do other than beg God to keep her alive until we get there.  I didn't sleep the entire night.  Nothing but thoughts of my mom filled my head.  Her voice, her smell.  Her really soft hands and perfect manicured fingernails.  I thought of the way she laughed and it made me smile.  She has the cutest laugh that comes straight from her tummy.  Almost every time she laughed she cried because she was laughing so hard it hurt. So, she would beg us to stop making her laugh.  Nine times out of ten, it was my two oldest brothers.  They were always telling her some story of some goofy kid they went to college with or some crazy lady that came in to try on some shoes at Nordstrom. 

Time seemed to crawl by.  Tomorrow couldn't get here fast enough.  I already called my boss to let her know what happened and that I would need to be off for a few days but I had to come to the office so I could print my e-ticket.  I didn't have a printer in my Studio Apartment that I was struggling to keep.  Back then the airports didn't have the printer kiosks yet.  I think I showered at 3 am and was ready to go about 7 hours early.

As I walked in the office the faces of my friends and co-workers said it all.  They were all pulling for my mom to make a recovery.  I hugged and hugged and hugged my way around the office.  I sat at my computer and printed my ticket.  As I was ready to leave and head to the airport, my favorite tall person tapped me on the shoulder.  She was trying to tell me something but couldn't get it out because she was crying too hard.  Instead, she handed me an envelope, hugged me and walked away.  I shoved the envelope in my purse and ran out the door.

My oldest brother was already in Albuquerque holding my moms hand during a very scary procedure.  My dad hadn't made it to the hospital yet because my mom had to be life-flighted to the Heart Hospital from the small hospital the ambulance took her too.  Dad couldn't be in the helicopter with her because they were already taking another patient.

From the small town they were stuck in, my dad had to hitch hike.  It would be a 3 hour drive to the Heart Hospital where the helicopter flew my mom, so far away from my dad.  He had the worst luck for so many hours trying to find someone, anyone headed to Albuquerque.  It seemed nobody was headed north then finally, a man driving a bus to California agreed to take the detour. God is good. All the time.

My flight was uneventful.  I was meeting my middle brother at the airport in Albuquerque since his flight landed 10 minutes after mine.  He reserved a car for us and we headed to the hospital.  He is always the positive one and could make anyone laugh in a tough situation.  He was my drink of whiskey to calm me down.  Today, he is considered my Xanax, to settle my nerves!  Thank you Lord, for my brother.  You are good.  All the time.

I have never in my life had such a flood of various emotions as I had when I walked into the room where my mother lay.  Relief washed over me when I saw the handsome man with pretty grey hair sitting in a small wooden chair in front of a large window, holding the hand of the woman he loved more than life itself.  But before the relief subdued my fear, my eyes landed on a small body, crippled and curled while laying motionless in a hospital bed.  Her face, her arm, her hand, leg and foot were not of the mother that left my tiny apartment 33 days prior.  Instead, they were turned in and stuck as though she were a coy little child, too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

I was speechless.  I didn't know what to say.  Inside, I just wanted to pick my small mommy up and run to safety where she wouldn't hurt or be crippled.  Outside, I wanted to be strong.  I walked over to where she lay and smiled.  A tiny tear leaked out of her left eye.  The right side of her mouth turned up in a smile and she spoke my name with slurred speech.  I hugged her like I have never, ever hugged anyone before.  I didn't want to let go.  Thank you God, for letting me hug her again. 

When all of the brothers and sisters arrived, we arranged a vigil in my moms room.  We would each take turns sitting with her.  Mine started immediately, thank the Lord.  I just couldn't leave her.  We talked, and laughed.  I brushed her hair even though she hated it.  I brushed her teeth too, and put lotion on her sweet, soft hands and perfectly manicured nails.  When my vigil shift ended, I went to the house my middle brother lined up for us.  I tried with every thing I had to go to sleep but I couldn't.  I showered, watched TV and prayed so hard I thought my hands would be stuck together!  I know, that God is good.  All the time.

The next morning it was time to go back to the hospital to talk with the doctor.  You would not believe the surprise we had waiting for us.  As we walked in the door, my sweet mom was sitting up!  I couldn't believe it.  When I turned the corner to look at her face, I noticed that her left leg was straight and her left arm was resting nicely on top of her left leg!  Her face was no longer distorted and this time she *felt* the tears streaming down her face.  She couldn't believe it either.  The doctor had already been in to talk to mom and dad and lined them up with instructions and a REALLY, REALLY long list of medications.

That is where the problem lies.  My parents didn't have health insurance.  Mom was just 60 and not eligible for Medicare yet.  My middle brother called us out into the hallway and asked if we could all contribute money for her meds for the next three months.  When she gets back to Mississippi, she would have to get a doctor on a regular basis and he would set her up with meds, and perhaps some samples.  We all agreed.  I can't remember who but one of us got the Rx's from my dad and walked them to the pharmacy in the hospital.  All of us were there to cover the costs.  When I reached into my purse to get my wallet, I remembered the envelope my friend handed me.  When I opened it, once again I was speechless.  In that envelope was hundreds of dollars that my co-workers had collected for me.  How in the world did they know?  I had not ever told them that my parents didn't have insurance and, I didn't have any way of knowing that I would need that kind of money. God is so good.  All the time.

It was difficult getting used to a new lifestyle.  Different eating habits and what medication to take and when.  But, my mom and dad will be sitting at my dining room table this year, as they have for the last 4 years, and I am so very thankful that God is good.  All the time.

I wish all my friends and family a very Blessed and Happy Thanksgiving. 

Tell me, what are you Thankful for?

Nov 23, 2010

When Will they be TOO old?

It's Thanksgiving week.

Which means I either enroll the boys in daycare or find a babysitter.

They hate the daycare because they are in the "older kids" group and it's boring.  They have to be quiet when the others take a nap and most every single day they get into trouble for being loud.

By babysitter I meant mine and hubby's parents.  It's great that they offer up their services and that we are so blessed to have both sets less than 25 miles from us.  They always take care of the boys when we work and can't get away.  Even sometimes (the one time) hubs and I go on vacation without the boys.  Both of our parents split up the days/nights of taking care of the boys.

But now, it's like they're getting too old to keep them.  When will it be time to stop asking for their help? I wonder if they boys even notice that they're slower these days?

Today my parents are keeping them.  At my house. My parents think the boys need to stay in their home so they have plenty of things to keep them busy.  I say it's because my mother doesn't want two boys tearing up her neatly kept house!  Plus there are not toys and video games at Noni and Papa's house.  So, they come over to ours. 

My parents walk in the door this am carrying a bag of donuts for the boys!  Well, there goes the eggs and bacon they requested this am.  They ditched the E&B and dove into the donuts.  As I walked out the door I mentioned the available things for lunch. Around 10:30 this morning I get a call from the house.  I immediately freak out because they NEVER call me at work.  Apparently, they think I'm some important person that stays so busy I don't have time for phone calls!  Anyway, fear runs through me and I frantically answer the phone. 

Hi mom, is everything OK?

Why wouldn't it be Genevieve, I know how to take care of children, I had 6 of them you know!

Right, it's just that you never call me at work.

Your father and I are taking the boys to lunch and just wanted to let you know. I didn't want you to worry if you called the house and we didn't answer the phone.

Oh, sure.  Thanks for letting me know, have fun and make sure the boys wear their seat belts.

Jesus Genevieve!  You'd think I was born yesterday.  You grew up just fine, now didn't you?  I can handle this, I'm not that old!


I was about to say good-bye when she blurted out;

Oh Hun, tell me where the Wendy's is again?

Mom, we were just there last week.  In front of Kohl's remember?

Oh yes, now I remember.

I hope she remembers where Kohl's is!! Perhaps my dad will remember since it's RIGHT OUTSIDE OUR SUBDIVISION!!  Good thing dad is driving too, mom can't even remove the emergency brake, even though she's the one who pulled it up.  However, in his older age he drives very slow.  They may not make it to Wendy's until 3pm this afternoon!

I just called the house.

No answer.

It's been 4 hours.

The next closest Kohl's is in Hattiesburg.  Perhaps there is a Wendy's there too?

Nov 22, 2010

Happy Holidays?

It's that time of year again - time to decorate the entire house.  Every single room will have a touch of Christmas.

It's not that I don't like decorating because I do.  That's why there's something for every room. It's just that it seems like every year something happens that makes me enjoy it even less!  It started happening about 5 years ago. No matter what I did to keep the tree upright, it seemed like every afternoon when I came home from work that damn tree would be laying on it's side in the middle of the living room floor!  After several broken ornaments and enough gorilla glue to hold a house together, I finally had to tie the stupid thing to the wall.  The very next year, we bought a brand new PRE-LIT tree. Except, none of the friggen lights worked.  I had to buy new lights since I tossed the old ones out with the old tree!  The year after that I decided to change the colors scheme and bought all new, pretty silver ornaments at Target, who by the way has the best after Christmas Sales on holiday trimmings.  What else do you think goes perfectly with those nice silver ornaments?  Blue lights!!!  So, I bought them too. Because they were on sale.  Thanks to my dad who, upon seeing my tree, sang "I have a little Dreidel", those ornaments and lights have been donated to Goodwill. Last year was crazy busy, and I don't know why but I didn't get my tree up until the 20th of December!  My poor boys were beginning to think we weren't having Christmas at all!

So, this year, I'm starting early and going to pace myself.  I decided that I would be the one to go up into the attic this weekend to retreive the decor.  Hubby gets to "put it away", so I'll be nice and bring it down. Both mine and my parents.  The parents stuff can stay in the garage until Thanksgiving and then they can take them home after they eat.  Anyway, I'm all gung-ho for the retreival.  Hubby is going to be at the ladder, which I'm convinced is made out of matchsticks because every time I take a step higher the damn thing cracks like it's going to collaps out from under me!  So, he'll be there to catch the stuff as I throw it hand it down to him.  Even though it's only 53 degrees outside it's like 137 degrees in the attic.  WHY?  Clearly there is air circulation up there or else there wouldn't be a gigantic wasp nest glaring at me from the little window above the garage. 

Once in the attic, I take an inventory of the 17 boxes and two Christmas trees that I have to haul down and I'm already sweating.  I shed my clothes and make my hubby promise not to laugh when he sees me in just a sports bra and boy short underwear. Hush, it's hot up there!  Time to work.  I have a rythm down and things are getting done.  I have just about mastered walking along the 6 inch plank which is the length of the attic/garage all while carrying at least two boxes stacked on top of each other AND, hunched down so don't bang my head on the rafters.  Three more boxes to go and wouldn't you know it. I lose it!  It was totally like the movies.  Like I had practiced this move over and over to get the sequence just right.  I had two boxes and turned to the left to go back down the plank towards the attic door and ladder where my husband was waiting.  Suddenly, I lost my balance and yes, my life flashed before my eyes all before the final words of my hubby screamed through my ear.  "Whatever you do, do NOT step off of that plank or you'll come flying through the ceiling and land right on your car!".  I promise you it was the last thing he just said to me before making the final lap for Christmas decor.  Fear seared through me from my head to the very tip of my toes and I stopped breathing.  I fell backwards and screamed....."ADRIAN!!!!!", no, kidding....I screamed "son of a bi*^!"  My eyes were closed and when I opened them, I was laying across my son's toddler bed that was neatly placed in the attic.  I quickly jumped up, left all three boxes where they fell, stepped my naked ass down the matchsticks and sent my husband up after the last boxes.  I was through with the attic and I would no longer be making any trips to the attic. Ever. This marks  the 5th year in a row of Christmas decorating hell.  I'll be damned if I'm going to do it with a broken foot/leg/arm/back/neck.  So, after a got dressed again and took a quick water break I sent hubby up to get the rest. He makes it two steps up and suddenly jumps down and is running in circles.  He's frantic and mumbling something like "head...dying...don't feel so good, pass out" and the next thing I know he's laying on the floor of the garage! 

I thought he was kidding becuase he does that shit all the damn time.  I told him to get up and quit messing around.  There was no need in making fun of me just because I almost ripped a hole in the ceiling of the garage by falling through it. I was tired and hot and ready to be inside the house so we could start decorating. 


He's still laying on his back. On the ground. In the Garage. 

I go over to him and say his name. He opens one eye and says: "Am I alive?"  I almost slapped him right there.  Then I saw the blood.  Now I know that our heads bleed profusely even with the tiniest cuts but holy crap there was a lot of blood.  The look on my face said it all and if I weren't such a good liar (I only do it when necessary and if it is to avoid hurting someone) he probably would have passed out again.  I told him there was a little blood and he'd better go clean it up.  I have NEVER seen anyone as white as he was when he heard the word "blood".  He made it to the bathroom and cleaned up, relieved it was a small cut and no trip to the hospital for stitches was necessary.  He is lucky though because he hit his head on that thin bar that sticks out right above the springs that hold the stairs up.  It could have been much worse.

We went back outside. Yep. We turned the attic light off and closed the attic door.  The boxes stayed where they lay and not one Christmas decoration was adorned.  Even the next day I didn't touch the boxes fearing the worst.  I went about my business.  I moved furniture, and pictures.  Vases and chotsky's were put in boxes to make room for the decorations.  But not a snowman or nutcracker was touched by me.  I took my parents to the Mannheim Steamroller concert and when I returned later that night it looked like Santa and all of his elves had thrown up in my house. It was beautiful!  My sweet, wounded hubby and our boys had themselves a blast putting up the decorations.

It seems like the yearly bad luck has gotten worse by the year.  What in the world will happen next year?

Fun with Mom and Dad

Last night I took my parents to Mannheim Steamroller.  It was fantastic!  We were so close and the music was so loud but phenomenal!

Nov 19, 2010

My Leftovers

I always look forward to Thanksgiving.  There is just so much goin on. It's the beginning of the Holiday Whirlwind!

There's the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, football, football and more football and the Saints play the Cowboys on Thanksgiving Day this year.  There will be food, family and games.  It's going to be fun!

It's like once the last day of October arrives, the Holiday madness begins.  This has always been my favorite time of the year.  I love to decorate for the fall season and make my house all cozy.  Traditionally, Thanksgiving Dinner is at our house.  My mom is a fabulous chef.  But not everyone (in the South) appreciates her very eclectic taste.  My mother-in-law doesn't cook at all.  I mean, she can make a mean banana pudding and her chilli is great too, but I'm allergic to banana's and we don't eat chilli on Thanksgiving Day.  I'm not knocking ya if you do.  Good for you, but we don't.  So, everyone compromises and I do most of the cooking for Turkey Day.  It's fine with me though because I really enjoy cooking. 

Usually, both my parents and my husbands parents come over as well as my S&BIL and their two brats children.  But this year, it's just going to be the moms and dads.  Yep!  The S&BIL and their really boring totally wonderful kids are not coming. 

It's not because she's still mad at my dad. Last year after when everyone was about to leave, my dad told her that he and my mom would be over to their house later on in the afternoon for leftovers because he noticed she took plenty of them.  In her own Tupperware.  That she brough over.  In a GIANT BAG.  She just giggled but, no one else even smiled.  I for one was steaming mad.  Who the hell brings their own Tupperware over so they can have leftovers?  Not to mention, she didn't even contribute to the feast!

It can't be because I Unfriended her on Facebook.  And her husband.  And their 11 year old son.  Oh, don't worry he drinks Starbucks coffee so he's mature enough to be on Facebook.  This was way before Jimmy Kimmel declared November 17th the first annual National Unfriend Day.  Anyway, my husband inherited some beautiful furniture from a family member.  We put a lot of hard work into actually getting the furniture, not to mention an entire truckload for some other family members. We didn't get any physical help moving the furniture. And do you know how HEAVY expensive furniture is?  I didn't until now.  I can only afford the cheap shit and cheap ain't heavy.  Nice, intricately designed, handcrafted furniture from the early 1900's is VERY HEAVY!!!  And because I was so proud of it and how beautiful it made my home look I posted a few pictures of Facebook.  My SIL was not happy.  She complained and made a crazy story up about how I shouldn't have put it on there because some cousin or other family member might be jealous that we got the furniture.  We all know who the jealous one is now don't we?  My husbands dad called and politely asked me to remove the pictures from MY Facebook.  I did.  Only because I absolutely adore my father in law.  I was totally hurt though.  I was so proud of the new stuff I had because I don't have a lot of very nice things.  She does, because she acts like she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.  I wasn't.  I work very hard for the things I have.

I really don't know why after 6 years they have decided to go elsewhere for Thanksgiving.  What I do know, is that I'm willing to bet anyone out there that she will send her own Tupperware by her mother for left overs. 

Guess What?  There won't be any left overs this year!

Oct 29, 2010

This should be fun

Today is like the best day ever.

It's Friday, and quiet at work.  I love quiet Friday's.

I'm working on little tiny things.  Easy stuff.

Not browsing the web type easy stuff - actual easy stuff.  Making labels easy stuff.

And, I get to leave early today. 

I finally have a great weekend planned.

No painting is planned for this weekend on our 'house update' project.

The fam and I are headed for a Pumpkin Palooza where there will be trick-or-treaters and much laughter.

I have been looking forward to this little getaway for a while now.



Why does this always happen to me?  I mean, it's finally a little cool outside so I can wear my new blue jeans to the football game.  We are all packed and ready to go and my children are wishing their school day away so we can hurry up and go already.  Except now, I have a headache that will only go away with a very dark room and extremely quiet sleep.  A lot of sleep.

Do you think I'll get a lot of sleep?  NO!  Instead I'll be miserable in the car as we journey to our Halloween Festival Weekend.  Undoubtedly, I'll have to have my husband pull over on the side of the road so I can barf. 

But damn it, why?!?!

Instead of festivities all I want to do is crawl in bed.......ugh.

What are your plans for the spooky weekend?

Oct 26, 2010

The Real Me

I am not a mean person.

I'm funny.

Sometimes very giving.

I wear my heart on my sleeve which ends up kocking me down in most cases.

I don't like to hurt anyone's feelings.  No matter how ugly you are, I refuse to hurt your feelings.  After all, God made you and I will NEVER think you are ugly.  God doesn't make mistakes and He had the best of intentions when He made you the way you are.  So really, nobody is ugly.  Looks wise you know...personality, now that's a different story and don't get me started on that - you'd be here next week reading about all the "ugly" (mean) people I've encountered in my lifetime.

But mean, I really don't think I am.  Now, my kids will tell you a different story I can promise you that.  Because really, if I have to tell you seven thousand eight hundred and thirty one times how to glue grass in the shoebox, you weren't paying attention the first several thousand times I told you.  So yes, I'm going to yell which in children's minds is being mean. I just think my point is made much more clear when I raise my voice 3 decibles.

I can't stand yelling.  It makes my heart race. It makes me look very ugly because apparently I hold my face in the yelling position for several hours afterward.  So, don't make me yell at you.  Because there are so many judgey people who will think I'm actually not good looking and that God really did make a mistake when he left my face all crinkled up.

However, I recently enjoyed getting my point across with words rather than with voice escalation.  I'm becoming fairly good at it too.

Is it wrong for me to enjoy making someone feel guilty for not following directions, or for making a mistake that I know for a fact that I would never do because of my overwhelming gift of niceness?  I don't think so.

I mean, I did just get my point across a few minutes ago.  I didn't have to yell, kick or scream.  Hell, I didn't even cry and I think I got my point across. My old trick to get you to feel bad or guilty was to make myself cry so you would feel bad for me. 

Not anymore buddy, I have words.  The best part of it all was that I didn't even frown.  In fact, I think there was a slight grin, a smug expression if you will.

My point was made, and I walked away feeling so great!  I didn't have to yell.  I didn't have to say mean things and I came out the same nice, friendly, caring, giving person I've always been.  I walked to my office, put my lunch bag next to my purse so I wouldn't forget it because, if I *forgot* to mention that I *forget* a lot of things lately (I'm not sure if it's age or what but,  I don't think I should worry about it),  me being *forgetful* was the reason I almost yelled today. I could have easily cried too because my feelings were hurt that someone *forgot* to remind me that I was *forgetting* something.

I'm sure it wasn't intention at all.  Because I am usually the one reminding folks of things when necessary. Nobody ever thinks to *remind* me of anything.  It wasn't really a big issue and I wasn't going to say anything at all about it until someone put the *reminder* in my head that had it been anyone else *I* would be the one doing the reminding so that they didn't FORGET!

Still with me?  Good - my point to this long story about how I didn't have to yell today becuase I have changed with age and am able to use words rather than raise my voice or cry or stomp my feet is that when I got to my office, my heart started racing and I feel like there is a gigantic elephant sitting on my chest.  I've also had to get a kleenex because I feel like I may have hurt feelings with my "words".  I was clever, and was sure not to say anything harmful. But since I didn't end the conversation with "it's ok, don't worry about it" and just brushing it off  I feel horrible.  I feel like a different person and think perhaps I should apologize for being so crass and smug with my words. 

Only for one minute did I feel like such a great person for not yelling (by the way, I don't yell when I'm at this establishment, only home, to my kids, who can't really hear well. I think).  The more I think about it, that's not really who am at all. 

I am the person you can step on just so you're a little bit taller.

I am the person who will always put in a little extra every single time, so that you don't have to do as much.  Yes, I will complain about it but I would rather complain than have you do something that you, well - don't really want to do.  In my wiser years, I have changed the word complain to vent.  Because when you complain, you have to have a solution.  If you vent, no solution is necessary.  I don't really want a solution because I feel like if I find a solution to me not doing so much work I become less valuable.  My assests go down with every complaint.  If I vent, I feel much better about the day and move on. 

I'm also the person who even if I really didn't do anything wrong, I will make myself believe that I did if I feel like it will make you have a better day.

I'm sorry.  And, You're welcome.

Oct 13, 2010

"CHI CHI CHI, Le Le Le!"

Oh my, it's been a few days since I made you laugh hasn't it?  I'm's just been a very low key past couple of days.  Not really much has happened that made me think...oooooh!  I need to blog that!

I was sick right before the weekend. Throwing up.

I really hate to vomit.  Honestly I will do *anything* to avoid having my insides present themeseves outside.  I took enough Phenergan to make me sleep all day long.  But, some kind of nasty bug flew in my mouth and made it's way down and just didn't want to leave me.  It was pure misery.  So that's basically where I was.  It the bed.  And, on the floor by the toilet (which is enough to make anyone hurl).  I tried to show my face to my family once in a while but each time I did they would all point me back to the bedroom.  I could hear my husband tell the boys in a panic "come on over here and get some hand sanitizer!"  Dude, I didn't even touch you!  I didn't even get 20 feet near you.  Then I'd hear the Lysol spray.  Ugh....  I can't really blame him though because I would hate it if they were throwing up like I was.  I hate to even hear people, including myself throw up. Next time, I think I'm wearing ear plugs so I don't even have to hear myself.  I just hope there isn't a next time anytime soon.

You would have thought that I'd have lost some weight.  Because seriously, even the damn water I drank to keep myself hydrated didn't want to stay down there with whatever monster was inside me.  But NOOOOO, I didn't lose *any* weight.  Let me tell you why - Saturday afternoon, Saturday night, all day Sunday....I ate.  I ate a lot.  I couldn't get full!  And whatever food was at the house, I ate it.  I don't even like potted meat but I ate that shit like it was going out of style.  I also ate spaghetti.  Usually when I cook spaghetti for supper I don't eat it.  I'm not a tomato person.  So, I eat the noodles with a little butter and parmesean cheese.  This time though, I ate two servings of spaghetti *with* the sauce.  Lord help me! 

I ate like a Chilean Miner being rescued.

Speaking of the Miners - OMG!  They have been down there for 69 days?  WOW! This is nothing short of a miracle performed by none other than God.  Honestly, He is to have all the glory.  I know that a whole bunch of people had a lot to do with the operations side of it and how exactly they were going to get the miners out alive.  And I mean THOUSANDS of people had a hand in it.  Smart and methodical people from *all over the world*.  These people put their minds together and took precise measure in order to keep the miners safe and rescue them alive.  But Lord, how did they survive *that long* more than 2000 feet underground?  Only He knows.  I can imagine they had tremendous faith and a strength and will power within themselves to keep fighting.  They all had something to look forward to.  Each one of them has a family member (or twenty) just 2000 feet above the ground waiting for them.  Each man is alive and will live to talk about it.  He is a part of history.

One reporter said it's just as big a moment as when Neil Armstrong stepped foot on the moon.  This is *that* big.  An operation that is taking place to save 33 men who went to work one day, just like every day and didn't return home because of a very scary accident.  It's precedential. Not ever, across the entire nation, left to right and top to bottom, has anyone EVER lived for as long underground with little to no food and an environment that is not condusive to every day life.  And, 33 men did.

Wasn't Jesus 33 when he died?  Coincidence or not, GOD is AMAZING all of the time.

Oct 6, 2010


When I walked through the door I wasn't greeted as usual. 

There was not the normal sound of hurrying feet rushing to my side.

I didn't feel the familiar arms wrapped around me immediately upon entrance.

When my eyes met his as I scanned the room for him, I knew in an instant the reasons for my feelings of abandonment.

He gathered his belongings and walked towards me as though it were going to be the last time he made that journey.  We buckled up our seat belts in silence.  The quiet didn't last more than 5 seconds.  Suddenly, there were tears and a burst of agony.  He covered his face in shame as though he didn't want me to see the misery across his face.  My heart ached for him and I wanted to reach out and hold him and tell him it would be alright.  But, I wanted to give him time to cry.  He needed to let go and get the tears out.  Although there would soon be more tears he looked as though he felt better soon after the first tear fell.  He composed himself just before we entered the garage. 

He wanted to be strong.  Tough.

We went our separate ways.  He to one side of the house and me to the other.  Soon enough we would meet again.

Within minutes he was at my bedroom door and in the softest voice he asked me;

Can we get it over with now, I don't want to wait any longer.  I've been thinking about it all day long.  I couldn't even enjoy my day knowing what was waiting for me when I got home.

He cried more when I was finished. 

We hugged. 

I told him that I loved him so much.  Then, he looked in my eyes and said he was sorry for what he did, and told me he loved me even more.

Everything really *was* going to be alright.

MY CHILD TALKS TOO MUCH!!!  He's been getting sad faces at school for chatting away.  I've given him chances and chance and chances.  I told him the last time that if he came home again with a sad face for talking he would be spanked .  I keep my promises.  Only because I want him to take me seriously.  If I didn't spank him this time then the talking would be acceptable.

It was very hard to do.  But let me tell you that when he reached up and wrapped his arms around my neck it was the best and the worst feeling.  Best because it meant that he still loves me even when I spank him.  Worst because he wispered in my ear how much that darn spanking hurt!

What can I say? 

I love to talk.

He gets it honestly.

Oct 5, 2010

1%, Radio and Bad Hair

I don't consider myself a *late* person. 

I would say that I'm 99% on time and 75% early.

Lately, those numbers are completely lying.  I have figured out that I can sleep about 15 minutes longer each morning by taking a shower at night as well as in the am.  The reason why I have to shower in the morning is because I have a major affliction with my fear of bed mites! Plus, it can get kind of steamy in the bed sometimes. LOL! I'm sorry but, I just have to take a shower in the morning too.  I mean what, you're sleeping for at least 7 hours right? Under covers.  Sometimes you sweat.  Or, what if you pee a little?  Or a lot, I mean you could have a problem, you know.  And really, there *could* be little teeny weeny bugs or mites or whatever they call them in your bed.  Listen, I have to psych myself out and tell myself over and over that there aren't any in my bed/on my mattress/pillow, OK? I know, it's crazy but really, who wants to sleep in a dirty bed? 

So, back to me showering at night.  I have a very enormous amount of hair on my head.  I must wash my hair every day.  If I don't, I could fry chicken in the grease from my hair.  I promise.  But the thing is, I've noticed that my hair looks better the next day.  Like, I wash my hair Friday morning before work.  I stlye my hair and work all day. Then, that same evening I just shower but DON'T wash my hair.  When I style my hair Saturday it's SO MUCH BETTER LOOKING!  For about three hours.  Then it stars with the ol' greasy looking mess.  So, I decided that I would wash my hair during my evening shower, let it air dry and get up in the am and style it.  It's been working great because my hair looks better, I don't have to use so much heat on it from the hair dryer, AND I'm still washing my hair once every 24 hours.  I'm loving it!

Except for this morning.  OH MY GOD, when I looked in the mirror my first thought was Donna King (the female Don King in case you didn't get the joke).  Remember when your mom used to say "you look like you stuck your finger in a light socket".  This time I said it to myself.  My hair was a hot mess.  Before I got into bed last night I was on the computer and sometimes I twirl my hair out of habit.  I must have twirled about 4 pieces of hair on either side of my face because those suckers were spiral curled and the rest of my hair was kinky.  My flat iron would NOT get the wrinkles out.  I almost had to re-wash my hair and blow it dry straight. 

There was NO time to re-wash my hair.  Remember I'm never usually late?  It would have made me about 30 minutes late if I had to blow dry my hair, so I had to just flatten as much as I could.  I was already just going to get to work with seconds to spare.  I even hate that....I can't stand to walk into work at exactly 7:30.  You know, there has to be gossip time and laughter and sharing prior to starting the workday. 

So, I sprayed my hair as much as I could and hit the road to work. 

Unfortunately, I don't work very far from my home. 

Here's the thing.  I love to listen to the radio.  The radio is on in my car at all times.  It sucks when I have to drive long distances with chatty people because then I have to choose to be a good listener, because I am you know. I want to listen to the radio so would you mind talking over the singing?  Good, then I'll listen to both of you.  I even have a radio in my kitchen because what is better than listening to music and cooking?  Um, hello...NOTHING!  The radio in my room is always on and when hubby is not home, yes I turn it up loud enough to hear in the bathroom.

So, this morning as I'm trying to kind of hurry to work (so that maybe I can get there at 7:27, or 7:28 or 7:29, just not 7:30, heaven forbid I can't chit chat for even a minute before working) and what do you know today must be slated to be a great day!  There are nothing but great songs on the radio.  I'm not talking hip hop or anything like that.  Old School you know?  First Journey - Wheel in the Sky.  Just as I was about to pull into the parking lot Kenny Loggins comes on singing Footloose.  There was no way I could just turn the radio off in the middle of that song....I kept driving.....ha!  I didn't pull into the parking lot but instead decided to drive around the block.....and my radio volume was cranked. 

I didn't make it to work on time today.  Not even close so today I'm that 1%.  But I'm having a great day and I can assure it's all because of the radio. 

Who said bad hair makes for a bad day?

Oct 4, 2010

ID Please?

I got carded on Sunday!!!!  Whoo hoo! 

The funniest part was that my husband was standing there looking at the store clerk like he had lost his mind.  So, when I continued to pull out my ID with the *biggest* shit eating grin on my face, all he could do was stand there with his mouth open, and stare. 

Yep, that's right old man.  I got carded and you didn't!  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 

The more I think about it, I should have just kept my wallet closed, stepped aside and said: "Oh, daddy I guess will have to show the man your ID!"  He would have fell over right then and there. 

So, that was my little happy time Sunday.  It was over just as quick as it started because the next thing on the conveyor belt was prune juice.  That's when the clerk turned red, looked at me and said "I'm sorry ma'am."  So, what does that mean?  He's taking back the whole, "Can I see your I.D. please?"  Does the purchase of prune juice mean he shouldn't have carded me?  Does it mean that I'm old and need it for my bowels?  I mean, it does but guess what?  I'm sorry buddy you don't get to take it back.  And now that it's happened, I'm going to tell the whole world you did it!  Old lady prune juice or not -!

The Oldest One

I have great memories of my brothers.

Growing up with three brothers and two sisters makes it impossible to have a dull childhood.  I will say that my twin sister and I are the youngest of the siblings so I didn't really have a lot of time with my oldest sister.  She did visit during the holidays with her husband(s).  And, I can remember thinking how weird it was to have a sister that was already married.  Since she wasn't around much I just don't have the childhood memories of her.  There are memories, oh yes there are...but those are later in life.  Let's just make this about the boys.  I'll start with the oldest one.

He's 12 years older than me.  That means I was only 6 years old when he graduated from High School.  Needless to say I don't remember much of his childhood or high school days.  Honestly, to this day I don't really even know what he did immediately out of High School.  I think he went to UC Davis or Sac State.  I could be wrong, but he had to be close enough to come home often because he used to babysit my sister and I when my mom and dad went out of town for the weekend.  Most of my memories are from when he lived in the bay area.  I loved it when he came home to visit.  I remember telling my friends that I was grounded for the weekend and couldn't come out to play.  I didn't want to miss a minute of time with him and his funny stories and I never wanted to share my brother with any of my friends. 

One October, he came home to keep my sister and I for the weekend while my parents went to Carmel.  I didn't even know he was coming let alone that my parents were going out of town.  It was Halloween weekend and I had big plans to trick-or-treat.  I didn't know what I was going to dress as because my mom always took care of that.  Usually, my youngest brother would take us to the parade that was downtown just before it got dark and then he and his friends would walk my twin and me and all of our friends around the neighborhood ringing doorbells.  We would use pillow cases as our bags and we filled them up to the top every year!  When I got home from school that day there was a note on the kitchen table from my mom that she and daddy were going to be out of town for the weekend but my oldest brother was coming home to stay with us.  A little p.s. said, "Your father and I didn't get Halloween costumes this year so you and your sister should spend time with your brother tonight instead of trick-or-treating." I was devastated.  I had looked forward to trick-or-treating all year and now I have to spend time with my brother?!?!  When he arrived a few hours later he found my sister and I upstairs laying on our beds crying.  I can imagine that it broke his heart to see his baby sisters crying because he really did make it up to us.

He was bound and determined to get us to the parade and take us trick-or-treating so he went to my parents room and started creating costumes.  He dressed my twin up as a hobo. He put her up in some of my dad's jeans and an old flannel shirt.  Add two mismatched socks and two different tennis shoes.  He smeared vaseline on her cheeks and chin and then basically dipped her face into the coffee can!  She was a really great looking Hobo. I was a little jealous that her outfit had come together so quickly.  We had to hurry though becuase he wanted us to be *IN* the parade.  For everyone to see.  What in the world was he going to dress me as? 
He left the house and told us to sit tight, he'd be right back.  When he returned, I cried again.  He was holding the BIGGEST brazier I had ever seen in one had, and a pretty skirt and blouse with some VERY high heeled, strappy sandals in the other.  With some pantyhose from my mothers drawer my outfit would be complete.  I put the panty hose on, the skirt, the blouse, and the heels.  I didn't quite know how I was going to get the board that was my chest to fill out that enormous bra.  He had gone to my mom's best friend's house to borrow one of hers.  I'd have to use every pair of socks and even underwear to fill up that beast!  And that is exactly what he did.  He even used extra t-shirts to fill up the back side of my underwear!  My brother threw some makeup on me and some very red lipstick.  He curled my hair and back combed it in record time. 
With my chest and rear swollen the three of us headed to the parade.  We made it with seconds to spare....I was so uncomfortable and trying not to cry.  Everyone was staring at me and laughing as they pointed at me.  It was the first time ever that I hated my brother.  I wanted nothing more than to get to the end of Main Street and rip off the heels so that I could cut across the creek and run home.  When I made it to the National Hotel at the end of Main Street I could hear my name being called out.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw my brother running towards me.  He had the biggest grin on his face.  I don't remember everything he was shouting at me.  Something about the west but I couldn't understand him as he was pushing me up the stairs to the stage. My name was being called because I won 2nd place for Best Costume.  I stood on the steps of the National Hotel with one boob lower than the other.  Everyone was watching me.  Laughing. At me.  I could feel the stuffing slipping from the elastic ridge of my butt was ever so slowly sagging.  The man with the microphone was in hysterics as he shoved the microphone to my face.  He asked me who I was dressed as. But, everything was such a blur and moving so fast, I couldn't even think straight.  That must have been why the laughter suddenly roared when the only thing that came out of my mouth was "my brother......" 
I don't remember how I got home.  I just remember that it took what seemed like hours to remove the makeup that he had applied to my face.  I remember using the entire jar of my mothers Ponds cold cream.  I didn't get in trouble though, I just blamed it on my brother.

For years I didn't even know what my oldest brother had dressed me as.  Until one weekend many, many years later he had come home for a visit. My sister and I had begged so many times to go back home with him for a few days.  We wanted to stay the night at his apartment.  He moved to the Bay Area and we really wanted him to take us to San Francisco. He and my parents finally agreed.  On one condition.  He was not to dress me up again as Mae West.  There was a lot of laughter but he agreed.

I can't speak for my sister but I know that I had the greatest time staying at my brothers place.  He did take us to the city.  We got to ride B.A.R.T.  Bay Area Rapid Transit.  It's where the buisness people commuted to and from work.  So, cool!  There are windows on that train as well.  We could see all around the area my brother lived.  At one point on the trip to San Francisco the train actually has to ride under the bay.  And because I tend to be a tiny bit guillable, my brother told me that if I looked really hard I could see the fish as we were  under the water.  I believed him.  I even told him I saw a fish.  I wanted him to feel as crazy as he made me feel.  But we were little grown ups when we were with my oldest brother because he was such a grown up and we wanted him to want us around. 

There are so many more stories - like the time he actually did get in trouble for having a party.  My parents would have never found out if it weren't for my sister and I.  We didn't tell on him either because we weren't even 5 years old.  It's just that he forgot to put us in our pajamas for bed.  The next morning when my parents came home and woke us up, not only did we still have the dresses on from the day before but my oldest brother had even forgot to take our shoes off! 

I think that's the only time ever that he neglected us.  Because he was already 12 when we were born he took on a lot of the responsibility of taking care of us.  He didn't get to walk us to school but he did get to walk me into my very first job after High School and I'll never ever forget how much he has been there for me.  Although he lives in Arizona and I in Mississippi he is still supportive of his litte sister.

Sep 30, 2010

What kind of Parent are You?

Parenting is such a tough job. 

At least I think it is.

I want to be clever when I discipline my boys.  They should grow up to love and respect me.  They *have* to know I'm the boss and in charge.  They can't be afraid of me. 

Well, maybe just a little bit. 

I would like my boys to know when I am truly disappointed in them.  I can get over being mad, but don't you think disappointment hangs around longer?  Do you try to do things differently or do them better when you have disappointed someone?  I want my boys to understand the difference between anger and disappointment.

When I was in 7th grade I got busted.  I mean, totally big trouble. I thought my excuse was going to get me sent to my room for the night with no television. It turned out much, much worse.

The Sunday before we were to return to school from Easter break our Junior High caught on fire.  The whole Science building was pretty much destroyed.  We had to take an extra week off so the school officials could round up some  portable buildings and get the fire damage cleaned up.  We all went back to school and things were crowded but semi normal. 

A few weeks later I just didn't feel like going back to class after lunch so for the first time in my school age years I was going to ditch class.  I talked my best friend that year, Monique Jones, into ditching with me.  We were rebels now baby!  About 3 minutes after the final bell rang, Aine Forrest came out to the Lobby where we were hanging out and said that Mrs. Butler was looking for us.  Crap, what were we going to say?  Monique looked me square in the eye and told me that she was going to say that she was using the bathroom and I had better not lie on her and say anything different.  Well, I already had my excuse in my mind and thought it was a damn good one to get me out of the *tiny* trouble I was going to be in for being late to class.

I told the teacher that there had been a bomb threat called into the school and I was the one who picked up the pay phone where the caller had made his threat.

Yep! That's what I said.

I told her as I was headed to class the payphone outside the gymnasium was ringing so I answered it. The person on the other end of the line said that there was a bomb in the school.  I said I was so nervous I didn't know what to do and that was when Aine found us. I was sure this would get me out of trouble and thought she would just send me back to my seat and we'd get through the rest of the day.


Instead she started screaming and running around like a banshee.  She ran to Mr. Heinrich's class room and told him to call 911 and then started evacuating the classrooms.  All hell was breaking loose and before I knew it the entire Junior High was evacuated and standing on the football field about nine *thousand* yards away from any building that could possibly blow up.  I could hear sirens screaming and kids crying.  Oh shit, what did I just do?  It was like I had this fog around me.  I couldn't breathe.  I couldn't see. I couldn't talk.  I could hardly even walk.  I was escorted to the football field as well but the principal told me that I needed to stay close so that I could give the police a report when they arrived.

Give a WHAT?!?!  To the WHO?!?! Holy mother of God, how am I going to get out of this one?  Stick to your story Genny, do not break, whatever happens, DO NOT BREAK!!!  I almost threw up when I saw the police officer walking towards me with the principal.  There was a third person and when I figured out who it was I started crying hysterically.  It was MY DAD and he was heading my way.  I remember he didn't say a word.  He just stared at me the entire time I was talking to the police officer, giving him my *false* report.  All three of them just let me talk.  When I got through my lie the officer looked at me and said, "Miss Chastain, we are a little confused.  You see, we ran the recordings from that payphone and the last call that came in from that phone was yesterday after noon just after we began tapping the line." 

You said what?  I'm sorry, I thought you just said that you tapped that phone line yesterday

Yes, that's right.  We started running a wire tap on that phone yesterday due to some on-going prank phone calls the school pay phone has been receiving lately.

How the hell was I supposed to know that some pervert from across the street had been calling for the last two weeks while using his binoculars?!?!  He had been telling all the girls who answered the phone that he could see them and how pretty they were along with some other disgusting perverted stuff.  I had never answered that phone a day in my life and now this?  Not only did I just give a false report but I was to blame for the fire truck that had a collision with a car on the way up to the school!  This whole "ditching" idea was turning out to be the worst decision in my life.  I was going to be grounded forever.  Not only that but I knew I had disappointed my dad.  See, disappointment is much, much worse than anger. He wouldn't even look at me.

The next day I was scheduled to meet with the Amador County DA.  My dad was an attorney in town and had worked with the DA some, so he was going to take me to my appointment to receive my punishment.  We sat in the tiny office and I was a wreck.  I couldn't stop crying.  My dad still hadn't really looked at me in the eye and all I could hear in my head was my mom saying "your father is furious".  The DA passed along some message to me, one from each the school Principal and the Chief of Police.  The police chief wasn't going to press charges for the false statement *and* I'd have to pay for the damages outside of what insurance was going to pay for the accident between the fire truck and vehicle. He was going to let the DA take care of my punishment.  The Principal wanted me to know that I was suspended for the next three days.  The District Attorney decided that I should be on probation until I was EIGHTEEN!! Dude, that was like an eternity.  I was only 14 then!

I was grounded for the entire summer.  I became close with my parents and did a lot of house cleaning.  I even did some typing for my dad at his office.  Closer toward the end of summer they let up a little bit and I think I was allowed to go swimming a few times at the public pool.  I was basically a very well behaved teenager from then on.  Every time I went out with my friends the word PROBATION stuck with me, so I never really did anything wrong. 

When I graduated from High School my dad took me aside as we were getting ready to head to the football field and said "I just wanted you to know that you are no longer on probation.  In fact, you never were on probation at all.  We were just trying to teach you a lesson".

At first I was pissed.  A FOUR YEAR LESSON?! But the more I thought about it the more it made me laugh. I started laughing and then we both just about fell over in tears from laughing so hard.  Now that, was clever parenting!  Not one time during my fake probation did they tell me any different.  But I still obeyed and respected them the entire time.  They let me believe that I had already used up my trouble ticket and I wasn't getting any other breaks. 

I want to be that parent.

Sep 29, 2010

Being Garrulous

I love to talk. 

Really, I talk a lot.  It's just that I think I have *so much* to say and most of it is important. I think. 

If you and I are having a conversation, I'm going to dig as hard as I can into my memory bank to find something that will go along with the topic we are conversing about just so that we can talk longer. 

You know that awkward pause between two people when they're talking and then suddenly there's nothing left to talk about because it's all been said already?  Yeah, I don't either!  For as long as I can remember, since the day I have been able to talk, I don't think I've EVER had an awkward pause in a conversation.  Most people just cut me off and say "well Genny, I have to get back to work now." 

I just always have so much to say.  There really isn't a conversation that I'm not opposed to talking about and don't know just a little bit about where I can't hold my own.  Every once in a while my mouth can get me into a heap of trouble.  Not too often, but there have been a few occasions where I should have just shut up.

Well, it happened last night.

See, I'm also a very talented individual.  Not only do I love my office job and get excited when Mr. Boss man gives me a gigantic Excel Spreadsheet to create but I can do lots of other stuff.

I love to paint. Walls.  And it's weird because I'm really good at it.  There are currently 5 different colors in my house and I'm not finished yet.

I also have excellent culinary skills.  I'm not opposed to preparing anything in the kitchen.

But, one of the things I love to do most and probably should have taken up a career in is Cosmetology.  I LOVE TO CUT HAIR!!  I can color, perm, shape, thin, highlight and pretty much anything else you think you'd like to try out on that head of yours.  Um, last night I learned that I can use a pair of scissors to cut your hair so short it looks like I used buzzers!

Oh my god, I'm sorry but guess what I was doing while I was performing the hair cut last night?  Yep!  I was talking!  I told you I talk too much, didn't I?  Well, I do and, apparently I talked *way* too much during this haircut.  My guy kept saying "Wow, you've never done that method before" and, "Goodness Genny, it's taking such a long time to cut my hair this time", and then he finally said "Why do you have that funny look on your face?"  I had to calm him down after my answer was totally non shalant with a slight giggle, "Oh well, it's just hair.  It'll grow back.  See you in about 6 weeks!"

My husband even called me before I was finished.  I was shocked!  I was like, "dude, I'm doing a haircut, what is it?"  He said he was worried about me becuase I've never been gone so long just to do a cut.

Oh my....see, I think I talk too much!

Sep 28, 2010

To Do the Dance, You Have to Take the Chance

I've been saying something lately and I'm wondering if it's a little rude.  Don't get me wrong, I can be rude and I'm really not concerned if you're mad at me for it.  That's just life.  But for the most part, I'm a really positive person and like to think of myself as upbeat, funny and genuinely a sweet and caring gal.  I've been reading a lot of Caringbridge sites lately and just cannot ever imagine going through anything so heartbreaking.  I thank God for every little thing in my life because without Him I would not be the person I am today nor would I have anything worth living for.  But recently, I've heard myself on numerous occasions saying; "at least you're not dying from cancer".  I know that sounds terrible but most of the conversations I have with some folks require me to be blunt sometimes! I guess what I'm really trying to say to them is that it could be worse. Some people are just so negative and down on themselves.  They worry so much and have so much fear in their day to day lives that they can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, and oh Lord what will they do?! So, when I say that to them, I'm honestly not trying to be ugly. Hell, I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel most days but I make the best of most situations.  Like, "at least it's dark in that tunnel so nobody can see that I didn't put my makeup on today"! Or how about this; I know that there really is a light at the end of the tunnel.  Eventually, I'm going to reach it.  And when I do, I want to have done the best of my ability all along the way, in the dark so that when I can see the light I'll be even better. I realize that tomorrow is not guaranteed.  We can't just sit around and wait for something to happen or feel sorry for ourselves because our day didn't go exactly as WE planned.  And another thing, quit waiting around for great things to drop in your lap.  It ain't gonna happen.  Take some initiative and help it along a bit. Take that chance.  Last night on Dancing with the Stars, Len Goodman said "You can't do the dance, if you don't take the chance".  I loved it!

So, I have a friend that is creeping into his mid 30's and remains single.  He's getting a little impatient about it.  Now by single I don't mean that he sits around watching TV at home.  He does go out. A lot. He has been known to give my husband a call a time or two.  I say make a tally mark under the responsibility category for that one! He often worries that life is going to pass him by and he will not get the opportunity to share his life with a wonderful girl. Here's the problem - HE IS NOT TAKING THE CHANCE!  I guess that means he wont be shaking his tail feather on the dance floor anytime soon!  Quit trying to find that PERFECT person, She doesn't exist - well, she does but she's taken.   Anyway, as I was saying.....this guy is the bomb dot com slash your mom!  He drives a nice car, ahem...Land Rover, lives in an very nice neighborhood, has a fantastic, well paying job and he loves his doggie.  Who in the world wouldn't want to set up housekeeping with that guy?  You know, Jump the Broom? Warning: this dog might as well be his child though so I hope the person he finds loves doggies too.  He takes her to doggie day care and sends her to special doggie day camps!  He even has pictures of her in his office where the doggie day camps have dressed her up.  One of them shows her on "Hollywood Day" wearing a beautiful feather boa.  She loved it so much she smiled in the picture!  Now, that's dedication on his part.  Heck that could even fall in the category of commitment (scary word).  So, two marks in the plus category for him.  I think the misstep he's taking is trying to find someone who doesn't want to change him.  Either that or he's worried he'll hook up with a serial killer! He is already set in his ways and worries that making a commitment will mean changing his life.  That my friends is considered stubborn.  Uh oh, one tally mark in the minus category.  So, he's two for three so far....I promise a union with him would not ever be anything less than unforgettable.  Being married is hard work and yes, it's a change.  But the change is gradual. So gradual you don't hardly notice (that's what I keep telling myself).  My husband and I are still finding out new things about each other and it's been 8 years!  If whomever my dear friend falls for likes him for who he is and not what she thinks she can make him then it's worth the work. Listen buddy your friend still thinks I'm trying to change him but he is still the same guy I met 8 years ago.  Now, I'm a determined son of a gun so if I can't change someone it really aint happening! And, as far as I know, he's not a serial killer.

This doesn't just apply to finding your soul mate.  Life in general requires a positive attitude and some guts. How will you ever know if you don't just try? Take a chance on that sweet, sweet girl or even that career move.  It may be the best decision you've ever made.  You never know how many dances you'll be a part of. If it so happens that it wasn't a good decision so what, it's not the end of the world, at least you're not dying from cancer.

Sep 27, 2010

He can't relate, but here I go!

I think it's been about two years since I've written. I want to write. I have so many ideas. I think I could write about so many things. Sad things. Funny things. Scary things. Really, SO.MANY.THINGS. I currently read 27 blogs. Yes, they are hard to keep up with and sometimes I skip a line or two, don't kill me. I have a great job where when I'm busy, I am run around like a chicken with it's head cut off busy. But I'd say there is 1 out of 5 days where I'm not busy. At all. So, I catch up on blog reading. Some of them have even allowed me to subscribe by RSS Feed and that is so cool becuase it comes straight to me and hello, if I'm reading an email in my work email box then I'm WORKING!!!!

Anywho, I have decided that I want to write a blog. I read so many blogs that just totally inspire me that I
share the very funny, inspiring and frightening ones with my friends. I really enjoy writing stories but most of all, I can't wait to get to work every day to tell my co-workers what happened at the Heller Household the previous night. Most of the stories I write and share are true and have actually happened to me or a family member, so why not put them out there? I've always said that I would love to write a book. A book about my life would be both sad (a happy kind of sad) and hilarious. Ok then, I'm gonna do it!

Here's the thing. My husband has major internet phobia. Hates it. Doesn't use it often unless I'm right there telling him which area to "click". He totally does not get the internet. He still calls it the information super-highway. Stupid. Our boys used to laugh at him when he tells them that they can find me in the computer room reading "blob's". Now, it's not even funny anymore, it's just stupid. So, he get's really frustrated at the fact that I'm at work all day long on a computer and then when I'm finished helping with housework and relaxing the method I choose most often is to get on the computer. I'm sorry but it's relaxing to me. So, my problem is that I'm having a hard time with the support that I need to continue writing and well, you know...putting everything out there. I'm a very open person. Hell, I'm a Chastain. We are WIDE.OPEN. However, my husband is not. He's private. He would not even appreciate the fact that I tell everyone how wonderful he is because he does all the laundry. Always. Yep, that's right. I can't remember the last time I did the laundry in the last 8 years. Honestly, I can't remember. But he thinks I should just stop at "my husband is wonderful" and forget about the part where I tell everyone that he even does the dishes. I think that's our only difference. We really get along well and hardly ever have arguments (omg, whatever!) but if I want to write a blog and keep it up if not daily then every other day then I'm going to need support. Don't you think?