Mama Said It's Time for a New Post

... and I ALWAYS listen to my Mama...

Ok Maybe not, always, but more often than not...

Apparently, the negativity of my last post is due to expire and I need to move on. She's right. Time to get over it and put on my Big Girl Pants. Goddamn pants are a size bigger than they were last year, crap. Everyone who actually reads this nonsense already knows what is going on in my life, so, I guess I should try and put some good vibes out there in the universe. Of course the vibes you feel might be from the button of my new Big Girls Pants flying off and hitting me in the head... oh well, here goes...

I am taking a tap class.. yes, my grown ass self, is learning to falap-ball-change and shuffle off to Buffalo. I'm not great at it, but I'm not too bad. I go every Monday for an hour and work it, along with 5-7 other women. Women of varying ages and levels of experience. We have our first recital coming up and I'm proud to say that I actually invited non-family to attend. We are performing to "Baby It's Cold Outside" by Petula Clark and some creepy sounding dude. We are wearing circle skirts and cute little tops. Should be fun. We have been practicing and preparing with a few extra rehearsals.

I am really enjoying it and always feel good after class. We learn new things each week and it gives me a sense of accomplishment whenever I am able to conquer a tricky or complex step. I like coming home and sharing it with Randy. Perhaps I can convince him to take lessons with me. (Yeah I doubt it too)

Let's see what else... Well there is lots of other stuff going on too, but Mama said this needed to be positive, so I guess that will have to wait... Yeah other good stuff is going on too, but I can't think of it right now, my mind is too busy remembering how to do the Cincinnati and the Maxi Ford...

5,6,7,8...

My Head Hurts

2009 can go ahead and end as far as I'm concerned. I am SO over it... It has been a very difficult and rude year. Not one I'll be thinking of with Auld Lang Syne in 2010. Holy crap...

Those of you still reading already know WHY 2009 blows chunks. No point in reiterating it again. Really... no point.

I'm angry. Really fucking angry. Mind numbingly angry. It's stupid to be that angry. It fixes nothing and chokes the soul, but oddly I'm finding solace in the the frisson of being this angry. It kind of numbs things. Like a persistent white noise blocking out the pain.

Yes, it's lame to be this angry, but you know what? I'm tired of being scared. Tired of worrying and tired of failing so I'm gonna be really good at being angry. I come from a long line of angry people. I've perfected "Angry Old Lady Face" years ago. The face where the lines of disappointment form a halo around razor thin lips and the furrow of the brow has Grand Canyon depths. I'm REALLY good at that face- ask Randy.

I sometimes wonder if Grandma was as bitter and hard as I remember. If she was really that severe and if she was, was she always that way? Was she born with some kind of aggro-gene that formed her or was she worn down like a glacier. Sorrow and disappointment wearing on her like little erosion filled rivers. Siphoning all the happiness of life from her face.

I KNOW Grandma was happy. I remember her as happy, but I also remember how severe she seemed and how she is remembered. Remembered by her family- very different than how she was seen by her fellow church goers and collegues.

I can remember the day we buried her. A dark and dreary day. Her Memorial was an event for her church. HUGE really. There I stood shaking hands with people I'd never met and listening to them tell stories of a woman I wasn't sure I'd ever met. A laughing and joyful woman. Person after person giving their condolences to me for a woman I wasn't sure I knew.

At the private burial, we all gathered around her plot. Feet sinking in the water logged grass and the heavens did their best to drown us. And we prayed. We were praying over a large bouquet of yellow roses. It was all very solemn and all I could do was laugh. Yes, laugh. Roses? Seriously? Grandma was a strong and forthright woman of impeccable manners and morals. She was NOT a rose. My mother had to pinch me to keep from laughing too loud.

Terrible I know. But all these years later I still think about it. I still giggle, but at the same time I worry. Who will I be when I die and how will I be remembered. How will my loved ones remember me? Will they too be shocked to hear what people say about me and feel like they are at the funeral of someone they don't know? Or will everyone know me and still not have fond memories? Should I care? Perhaps, perhaps not.

But I'm angry. I'm so angry it hurts and fills my soul. Will it begin to wear me down too? Will I become an embittered old lady? Hell, an embittered middle aged broad? I don't know and frankly, right now, I'm not sure I care.

I think I like being angry and I think that's not a good thing.... my head hurts...

What I Did Over My Summer Vacation...

Well... where to begin... at the beginning I assume.

Our trip to Japan was amazing; filled with so many sights and pieces of history and culture. I am in awe of such an interesting and beautiful place. I really hope to go again someday. I missed so much...

During our trip it became very obvious to Randy and me that Abby was going through something odd. She was always thirsty and had to use the potty ALL the time. Inevitably when we were waiting for a train. She was tired too, but we thought that was because of the time change. So many things going on at once.

Things got better when we came home. She was feeling some better, but was still thirsty and running to the potty. Over the month of July she changed. She grew thin and tired and grumpy. Finally, one weekend she stayed over at her Grandmothers and Grammy indicated she was worried about how skinny Abby was. I was taken aback- She's not skinny I thought. But then I really looked at her. She had a big growth spurt, but this was too skinny. I booked a Dr's appt. for that Wednesday.

When we went in that Wednesday we learned that in the past 4 months, she had lost 4 pounds. Approximatley 10% of her body weight. If any of us had done that, we would have noticed, but she is so small and had had a growth spurt.The Dr ordered several blood tests that would have to be done the next morning and Abby had to be fasting. She was worried about several possibilities.

So the next morning Randy and I took Abby to get her blood work done- poor girl had to go through 2 needle pokes and 6 vials of blood.That was at 9 am. By lunch time we were starving again and had decided to go to Ikea. While we were in line for our yummy lunch Randy get a call. He beckons us outside and by the look in his eyes I know my life has changed forever.

We were instructed to go directly to the hospital. Don NOT feed her. Go. GO NOW.
We were admitted and sent up to the Peidatric ward. No one told us why exactly we were there. We kind of knew, but no one had told us explicitly. It wasn't until I spoke up to a nurse that she explained... Abby was diagnosed as Type 1 Diabetic.

I HATE needles. HATE. Go into vapors HATE. I used to think having to give myself daily shots would be my own personal hell... ha ha fooled you. Having to give my child shots daily IS my own personal hell.

We spent 4 days in hospital. Abby adjusted quickly. I kept crying at inopportune times. I'd have to go into the bathroom and silently sob. Sometimes, as I drove home to shower, I'd simply leak sound. Like a keening weeping moan. It was weird and I couldn't help it.

In 4 days we were expected to learn how to give injections, carb count and use the glucose meter. We were given so much information and became totally overwhelmed. On the night before 2nd grade we were discharged with a stack of paperwork, prescriptions and a "good luck with that." To be fair, the nurses in the hospital were AMAZING and supportive, but no parent can ever feel prepared enough for this.

So now were are no longer a "normal" family... We are "Abby-Normal". We carb count religiously. Carry around a kit of insulin and other diabetic need everywhere we go. I have gotten used to giving as many as 4 shots a day. We know what the different kinds of insulins do and what new technology is coming. We've decided that our life has changed, but our life hasn't stopped.

Abby is the most amazing little girl I've met. She approaches her Diabetes with a light heart and a shrug, "It's just Diabetes" she says. She hugs ME and tells ME everything will be ok.

Some days are better than others, but we are learning. We've learned what to look for when she she may be having a low blood sugar. Abby can test her own sugar level and prep her insulin pen. She knows more about eating healthy than any kid I know.

My parent and In-laws have all taken a proactive approach. They learn everything they can and know how to care for our special needs child. Alexander is still concerned for his sisters health. He wouldn't stop holding her hand when we brought her home.

We've learned about the common misconceptions between Type 1 and Type 2 Diabetes. It's so odd to realize how truly ignorant we were before Diabetes touched our lives.

I pray that the new advances in research will find a cure. They say we are close and it may happen in our life time. I pray it does, but until then, we will carry on. Because really, there is no other choice.

Pot and Kettle

Recently I've been commiserating with a friend about the "things left undone" in our life. The fear of failure, the angst of perfection. As we talked and I did my best o be encouraging, I realized we were a little like the pot and the kettle. We both have the skill and desire, but we were both just waiting. "Waiting for what?", I'd say! "Go for it!", I'd say! Rah, rah sis boom bah! Wait a minute.... the same goes for me. What am I waiting for? Go for it? I blocked out the cheer leading imagery- it was a little disconcerting. but still valid.

Ok so... What AM I waiting for?

hmmmmm.....

Well I've decided I'm done waiting for nothing. I'm gonna do it. Now granted my idea isn't exactly a one person gig, but I think I may just have the crew lined up. Really? With the crew lined up I don't have much in the way of excuses now do I? Uh oh. Oh dear!

Ok... well here goes nothin really- because it's better than the nothin I was doing before-

Hey Kettle, this is Pot calling- We've got an adventure in store so let's get ready to rock!

Yeah I know its corny, but whatever- I'm beginning to like corny in my old age.

I'm Still Here Part 2

May/June-
Costumed 40 people for Pirates- Opened Pirates!
Finished up the end of year stuff at school.
Started to pack for Japan.
My Father ends up in the hospital emergency room practically bleeding to death- TWICE.
Freak out about going to Japan.
Go to Japan.

July-
Come Home- go to work.
Learn that we may be forced to furlough 2 days a month.

Woohoo! CRAZY world still goes round and round...

Proud Mama

I am a VERY proud Mama. Abby did well for her first vocal recital and in a little twist of fate, "Maybe" is the same song I sang for a recital once, when I was her age.

Enjoy-

Yeah- I'm still here...

So, as you may or may not realize I haven't written in a while- ok more like forever. As a matter of fact, I haven't written since February. Dang.

Let's see...

March- I turned 33, Mom had lung cancer surgery. Mom is doing well and they think (thank the lord) that they got it all. I also opened a show and went on a Mini-moon to Napa with Randy.

April- Randy turned 35, Mom started chemo. I started Spring Quarter and put up one show.

May 1st, 2009- I now have 35 days in which to costume 40 people. And GO!

Oh and did I mention the part where Randy might get laid off?

Perhaps there's a reason I HAVEN'T written-

Cake and Dagger!!! A surprise birthday story...

2009 marks the 7oth anniversary of my mother's birth. Months ago, when I asked Mom about having a party she said, "It's 75 the big one?" So I figured we'd wait 5 more years to have a big shindig. Then, life being life, threw us a couple of curve balls and I decided - to heck with that! Life is too short to sit around and wait for reasons to have a party.. we're gonna do it.

Now, because Mom had "poopooed" the whole birthday bonanza idea, I figured we'd have to be sneaky about it. So I asked Papa... always ask Papa. Being the fun loving and Mom-loving guy that he is, he thought this to be a worthy endeavor, saying, " Just tell me when and where and I'll get her there."

Thus began the frantic, secret emails between myself and my siblings. In thinking it through, I figured we'd have to have party someplace where Mom was used to being, but not expecting a party. Luckily for me, I work in an AWESOME place and when I asked if we might use the theater for our plot, I was graciously given the green light.

Now I had the venue, I had the date- her birthday fell on a Saturday!- all we needed was a guest list and menu.

Both of these seem like fairly straight forward and simple things to do. Alas... simple does not mean easy. A few years ago I did a surprise anniversary party for my parents and had to steal Mom's address book, take it to Kinkos and copy all of the relevant info. I knew I didn't have time to do that again, but I still needed the names. So, one evening while "visiting" Mom I spent the evening dodging Mom while writing down names and THEN trying to find their email addresses on her computer ALL without her noticing... Why is it whenever you're trying to be sneaky Mom has 35,000 things to tell you and wants to show you on the computer?

Once I had the names and addresses in order I sent out a mass e-vite. In my e-vite and in my excitement I failed to send out ALL of the pertinent info... sigh... some of the email addresses were wrong and I had to hope that fellow friends would forward them on.

So with a date, a venue AND guests now we needed food and decorations...

Mom's birthday is on Valentines day... LUCKILY Mom's favorite color is red. Add to that, the fact that her maiden name was Hart and I was in business.

This was a huge collaboration between my siblings and myself. Logan had a red crock pot, Joni had several serving pieces we could use and I had some too. I also raided every Target and Ross I could find looking for inexpensive pieces.

Keeping the menu simple was key- basic finger foods really. I also decided that if everyone was to be here about a hour before Mom, I had best give them more than some chex mix and peanuts to munch on!

Costco is my best friend. I went early to price everything in order to give Papa a clue as to how much this extravaganza would set him back. I tired to go twice to price things- the first time they actually wouldn't let me in because I had forgotten my card! Seriously!!!!! That had NEVER happened to me in all my years as a Costco member. Later that SAME DAY I tried at another Costco, this time with card in hand and they closed right as we got in the door... no time to browse... sigh...

FINALLY I was able to get the pricing done and sort out quantities. I ALWAYS buy too much food. ALWAYS. So I planned meticulously... when the day came to buy all the food- Roberta helped me to practically ignore all of my careful calculations- we still had too much food but we were under budget (almost). I could've just bought pre-made cheese and cracker plates and shrimp platters, but that was WAY more expensive.

So I bought big bricks of cheese and huge bags of veggies and boxes of crackers. I had so much fun standing around the kitchen with Ro and Suzie on Friday night cutting the cheese.... and veggies- don't be gross.

The day before the party Joni was coming into town because Mom had asked her to visit. She had to tell Mom she couldn't leave Arizona until noon so she could first drive to my house to drop off all of her decorations and serving ware and then drive to Mom's. Mom had no idea she'd even been to my house! Sneaky!

The day of the party, with 3 car loads of food and decorations, we arrived and began prepping the black box theatre for the party. Ro, Suzie, Danny, Sara, Logan, Randy and I had fun setting it all up. Red an white everywhere. Hearts. Lights. Flowers. etc. In the middle of hanging lights, mom called and asked Logan to bring over some tangerines from his tree. He didn't want Mom to get suspicious so he had to finish up quickly then run to Riverside, drop of the fruit and run back! Thanks Mom, for making us sweat! :)

My Favorite part was the picture of Mom from 1957. My friend Matt kindly enhanced and enlarged Mom's picture for me and we mounted it in a frame for everyone to sign. I LOVED IT!


We all worked hard to make it pretty. Suzie did an amazing job laying out the veggies and cheese. Sara made the silverware pretty and helped with the decorating. Randy and Danny were my strong moving men. Logan was my picture and lights guy! Ro was totally fantastic with everything- helping, organizing, decorating- all of it.

So how did we get Mom there you might ask? Brilliance I will say! Mom and Papa have a restaurant they like to go to that is very nice and conveniently located near CSUSB. My cousin, Kayren decided to come visit Mom fer her birthday and Papa was going to take them all to eat there. I had been a a conference all week and was going to have to work some overtime on that Saturday to catch up. Hee Hee... Kayren and I share a love of costuming and she "needed" to show me something that "needed" to be seen in the costume shop. SO.... they planned to "drop by" before dinner... Needless to say Papa still owes Mom a dinner at Les Rendezvous!

All went well.. Happy Birthday Mom!

The Girls!

The Boys!

Horror Stories of a Domestic Goddess

Chicken- Part one....

Chicken is an amazing fowl. Delicious, versatile and nutritious. I like to cook with chicken- baked breasts, chicken stir-fry and one of my all time favorites: Crock-pot chicken. Defrost the bird and plop it in the crock-pot with some seasoning and broth, then wait. Yummy- I particularly like to cook it until it shreds very nicely so I can make chicken tacos. My Mother makes the BEST chicken tacos EVER and while I try to emulate her I pale in comparison. That being said- my first horror story begins on an ordinary day, not so long ago.

Having made great taco chicken, I put the rest of the chicken meat into a corning ware dish and put it in the fridge. After a few days, I decided the left overs needed to go on to greener pastures. I had taken the bowl (with lid) and placed it in the sink to be disposed of.

This is where the Duh-duh-DUH! music comes in. I'm not sure what happened to distract me, but for some reason I left the house with the kids... FOR 3 DAYS.

Upon my return, I decided I needed to clean up a bit and should start the dishes. Again, for some reason far beyond me, I forgot about having placed the bowl of fowl in the sink. As I prepared to clean up, I looked at the bowl and literally thought to myself, "Huh. I don't remember having rice recently."

Then my brain decided to stop being on holiday and kicked in... "Why is the rice MOVING!?!?!?!"

Do you know the life cycle of a fly? DO you know how long it take a small amount of chicken to become the premier nursery of maggots? EXACTLY 3 days...

I have (to this point) never been so disgusted in my life.

After screaming and dithering about, I decide to be a big girl and deal with it. GAG.

I not so casually empty the writhing nursery down the drain while simultaneously running the hottest water I can down the drain. THEN I pull out the bleach and proceed to treat my sink like the crime scene it was. NO TRACE!!!! No trace I tell you.... except for the smell....

I was so grossed out I had to call my fellow DG (Domestic Goddess) and beg her for refuge from my disgust. With her kind heart she gave us shelter from the atrocity of maggot chicken.

I haven't made tacos OR crock pot chicken in a while... Luckily I can still eat rice- as long as it isn't moving.

Chicken- Part Two

Has this ever happened to you?

One of my favorite and simple party solution is to make baked or grilled chicken breasts. Currently, our local warehouse store sells it's chicken breasts individually wrapped. Normally this is great. Keeps the freezer burn low and makes defrosting a breeze.

For a recent family party, I pulled out said chicken and proceeded to count out the needed quantity of breasts. I made about 15 chicken breasts that day. A couple days after the party, my husband was complaining about a foul odor in the kitchen. We both looked high and low to find the source of the odor- no luck. It wasn't very consistent, only a whiff every now and then. Quite frankly I was convinced one of our dogs was have intestinal difficulties. If only...

Flash forward to 3 days later- yes that's right- 3! I come home and prepare to make dinner. I've started my son on his asthma breathing machine and needed to set the timer. As I enter the kitchen I again get a whiff of the most vile stench ever. "Dammit dog!", I say... poor dog, so maligned...

Then I begin to sniff around... as I do my nephew prepares to take the trash out, just in case that is the offender. I open the oven- no smell. I open the microwave- no smell. I sniff the garbage disposal- nope. I fling open the fridge and begin to dig through the typical thing: milk, cheese and veggies. NOTHING! As I disgustedly begin to stand up something catches my eye, a flash of pink where it doesn't belong.

Lo and behold, stuck between the fridge and the cabinet it an AWOL chicken breast, still in its package. However, said package has a hole. Not a very big hole but a hole none the less. "A HA!", I yell.

Then I did something stupid- I picked it up. I picked it up with no trash bag near by.

The stench of decaying chicken is surely the mostly disgusting smell ever. Dead chicken. FOUL fowl. And then stench is one that lingers and fills a room like an invasive fiend.

After running to the trash bag my nephew bravely holds open and screaming at my poor son to keep his breathing mask on, I run around the house trying to open every window and door. Nothing short of total demolition would've cleared out the stench. It was terrible.

I tried grabbing the Lysol and hosing the kitchen with it, but then it smelled like clean linen death. The Laundromat in hell. The devils febreeze. Gross.

Retreat in the face or rather, stench, of death is not to be ashamed of.

Thank goodness for my fellow DG- AGAIN... I called her and begged refuge in her home... Again, while laughing, she graciously offered us sanctuary.

So instead of cooking chicken at home that night, we shared horror stories over hot and gooey pizza. I have faced down then stench of death and did not let it win. I ate pizza instead.

I won't be eating chicken for the next 6 months... sigh... guess I better figure out how to make hot dog tacos.

I'm not a DG for nothing!

Follow up to "Clean as a Whistle"

Anyone want to take a guess at how much its costs to have a man you've barely met twice shove a camera up your bum?

Any takers?

$16,000

Let me say it again....

Sixteen- THOUSAND dollars.

If only they'd have told me that BEFORE the test I wouldn't have needed the anesthetic because I would have passed out!