What The HELL????
Dear fashion victims… I mean readers!! Yeaaah, READERS!
I’m sure some of you have noticed that some of the clothing styles have returned from the early 80’s. Yes, it just tickles me senseless to see some of the fashions that have weaseled their way back into mainstream teenage fashion. OK, and young adult too! Some of it is really well re-done. It all gives me wishful flashbacks to my young years. I never imagined my own daughter wearing some of the fashions I used to wear now… in 2004!
Remember the capris, but they aren’t really capris, cause they end right at the knee but then gather up on the sides with either elastic, or ties, or zippers? Yeah, I liked those, still do. Everytime I see Arianna wear the pants like this that I bought her ON PURPOSE, I get a stupid grin on my face!
Muscle shirts? Remember those? Yeah, I’m cool with that. Black rubber bracelets? Hell yeah I had tons of them. And if you are honest, you will admit that you did too! And the thick belts and the belts and bracelets with studs? Ahhhh yes, memory lane is calling! Even in some fashion magazines, I’m seeing 80’s makeup revisited… more, um, tastefully done, but still the same. On the bright side, so far I haven’t noticed any of those DYNASTY shoulder pads yet… but maybe I should bite my tongue?
You may wonder what I’m rambling on about? Why the title of this post? Well my darlings, let me enlighten you!
Yesterday, while out shopping with Z’s niece, who is MY AGE, we were wandering through a shoe store (naturally, since I have a serious addiction to shoes and handbags, much to my husband’s dismay). Strangely, I didn’t buy anything. But I digress….
So, while wandering around, we came upon sock displays. Ok. Fine. Oh these are cute! Blah blah, etc… Then my eyes drift downward…. niece’s apparently does too… she picks something off the rack, exactly what my eyes had become fixated on. She asks… “what the hell kind of socks are these?” I am afraid to touch them, dread and horror and realization slowly creeping into my consciousness. Finally, she shoves them into my hands for inspection. Guess what the hell they were? Were they socks? Knee socks? Um, no. NO! Any idea?
Leg warmers. Yeah, leg warmers. Many different colors and designs. “So what’s her damn problem?” you may think? Let me elaborate, shall I?
I live in Bahrain. It is a small island in the Persian Gulf off the coast of Saudi Arabia. It is a baby rat fart on the map. The daytime temperatures for the past days have been in the mid 140’s PLUS about 80% humidity! The evenings are much better at around 109-113 with about 90-97% humidity. Yes, as you may now be realizing, I live in hell! The temps will continue along this vein well into the end of September with the humidity getting even higher and the temperatures going so high that the weather people here begin to lie about it and not say it’s higher than 145 because if it gets hotter than that, outside labor will have to stop, and we can’t have that, now can we??? You know, humidity can get so high in fact, that early in the morning and at night, the air becomes very dense with it, like fog, so thick, you can’t see. Pea soup is an understatement.
Also, LEG WARMERS SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED IN THE COUNTRY, BECAUSE EVEN WITH THIS HEAT THERE ARE SOME REALLY STUPID-ASS PEOPLE THAT WILL WEAR THEM AND FORCE ME TO LAUGH HYSTERCAILLY AND POINT AT THEM IN PUBLIC PLACES. Ok, that and it’s just plain stupid.
Anyway, I had the sudden and overwhelming urge to start singing the theme to Flashdance!! I controlled it. Barely. I contented myself with laughing my ass off instead.
Don’t get me wrong; I will admit that I did wear them for a time in the 80’s. I carefully and very precisely arranged them and made damn sure they stayed that way, cause, well, that’s just how I am. (Apparently I’ve always been this way about socks and the like since I was a small child. My mom has told me that as young as about 2 and a half, I would insist on fixing my OWN SOCKS, making sure they were rolled or folded just so, and exactly alike, which would explain this vague memory I have of standing in front of a full length mirror in my bedroom at around age 3 or so, staring fixedly at my frilly socks in the mirror and repeatedly bending and fixing them to make sure they were even).
Anyway, that I wore legwarmers back in the 80’s, well, that was then. This is now. And I sure as hell wouldn’t dream of wearing them in hot weather.
I guess that I should be grateful that the funky rocker hair hasn’t come back, right? *shudder* Or, funky high heels worn with white little girl style frilly socks. *gag* Yeah, it couldn't be any worse, could it??
COULD IT???????
7/10/2004
7/09/2004
Baaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!
Well, I'm doing it again. But if you know me AT ALL, you will know that THERE WAS NO WAY IN HELL I COULD NOT DO THIS!
That being said, thanks to Genuine for sharing with the planet the new name of his penis courtesy of Rum and Monkey Blog! Since I firmly (heh, pun intended!) believe in turnabout is fair play, and since I feel like being a sheep again.... I would like to announce the name of my "female bits":
Yes, it's called THE FANTASTIC SEXY SOCKET!!!
and of course, because women are doubly blessed, I also have the pleasure to announce the name for my breasts as....
Oh go on! You know you want to take the tests yourself. DO IT!
Well, I'm doing it again. But if you know me AT ALL, you will know that THERE WAS NO WAY IN HELL I COULD NOT DO THIS!
That being said, thanks to Genuine for sharing with the planet the new name of his penis courtesy of Rum and Monkey Blog! Since I firmly (heh, pun intended!) believe in turnabout is fair play, and since I feel like being a sheep again.... I would like to announce the name of my "female bits":
Please say hello to: is The fantastic sexy socket..
Take The Female Bits Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.
Yes, it's called THE FANTASTIC SEXY SOCKET!!!
and of course, because women are doubly blessed, I also have the pleasure to announce the name for my breasts as....
My mazabas names are is Cleopatra and Mickey.
Take The Boobs Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.
Oh go on! You know you want to take the tests yourself. DO IT!
7/07/2004
I'm Being A Sheep Today.... SO SUE ME!
I took this Quidzilla quiz because, well, Mindy and Genuine did, I loave the both of em to pieces, and I'm having one of my "Sheep follower" moments. Baaaaaaa, bleat bleat!!!
But lookie, aint' I cute? I look like Captain Caveman or something! (Actually, my hair gets like that without my Frizz-Ease here with the humidity. And if you laugh at me, I'll be forced to hurt you. Don't make me do that. It WON'T be pretty - much like my hair without the aforementioned Frizz Ease.) Follow me darlings... I have the urge to go play in the countryside. Come on, you KNOW you want to go frolic in the country with me!
Sings: "The hills are alive, with the sound of MUUUUSICCCCCCCCCCC......."
You are Zarathud the Incorrigible! A Hard nosed
Hermit of Medieval Europe and Chaosphe Bible
Banger. You were once considered an offender of
the faith, a fact of which you are inordinately
proud to this day. People tend to follow your
lead. Too bad, because you like to take them
out into the countryside and lose them.
Which Erisian apostle are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Thanks to Pam the Beancounter for this....um...unique(!)Quidzilla Quiz.
Now I just have to figure out this trackback thingie so I don't get on her shit list.
I took this Quidzilla quiz because, well, Mindy and Genuine did, I loave the both of em to pieces, and I'm having one of my "Sheep follower" moments. Baaaaaaa, bleat bleat!!!
But lookie, aint' I cute? I look like Captain Caveman or something! (Actually, my hair gets like that without my Frizz-Ease here with the humidity. And if you laugh at me, I'll be forced to hurt you. Don't make me do that. It WON'T be pretty - much like my hair without the aforementioned Frizz Ease.) Follow me darlings... I have the urge to go play in the countryside. Come on, you KNOW you want to go frolic in the country with me!
Sings: "The hills are alive, with the sound of MUUUUSICCCCCCCCCCC......."
You are Zarathud the Incorrigible! A Hard nosed
Hermit of Medieval Europe and Chaosphe Bible
Banger. You were once considered an offender of
the faith, a fact of which you are inordinately
proud to this day. People tend to follow your
lead. Too bad, because you like to take them
out into the countryside and lose them.
Which Erisian apostle are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Thanks to Pam the Beancounter for this....um...unique(!)Quidzilla Quiz.
Now I just have to figure out this trackback thingie so I don't get on her shit list.
7/05/2004
Babies, Babies, Babies!
WOW! When it rains, it pours! There is a major influx of babies in my life at the moment. And I'm lovin it!
I love children and ADORE babies. I am an exhausted mothers dream visitor. I will willingly ( and usually beg her to let me)give her a break and watch the baby so that she can have a little precious time for herself. Diapers don’t intimidate me. Most children love me, and I them. I can occupy myself playing with a child(ren) for hours, and have done so. Frequently.
Yesterday, as you all know from reading my blog, my friend Genuine and his wife welcomed little Aidan James into the Genuine Clan.
Now I love babies, am enthralled by them, (hell, I’m surrounded by babies!) but little Aidan? I took one look at that little guy, and watched him kick open the door to my heart and crawl right in and make himself nice and comfy for the duration. As a matter of fact, I had a reaction to him that I haven’t had towards any child since I first beheld my own newborn daughter. I’m not ashamed –but am still shocked-to say that I felt my heart get tight in my chest and then found tears filling and then silently overflowing my eyes and course down my cheeks. (I have a feeling that Gen is gonna tease me about this forever) I’m a big softie, I know!
Now when my blog pal Lee and his wifey welcomed their lovely and oh-so-precious Jayne to the world almost two weeks ago during the Haiku Smackdown, I had a completely different,and very typical for me,although no less emotional, reaction. Every single time I look at her (cause Daddy Lee knows how I lurve to lurk on that Baby Jayne Cam!) I have this overwhelming and uncontrollable urge TO JUMP INTO MY MONITOR!!! Like an idiot I find myself making the stupid baby noises that most adults make to little babies. To. A. Monitor. Uh-huh. Sigh. Jayne is really so adorable with a beautiful big smile. Lee asked me last night on IM…. “Does it make your uterus ache?”. Ya hon, it sure as hell does! I couldn’t have put it any better myself.
*note to uterus and reproductive neighbors, the Obtuse Ovaries: can you please, PLEASE straighten your damn self up and get your act together?”
Mindy and I have commented to each other that when we descend on Denver in October, we will probably end up playing “pass the baby” together…for hours. Taking turns between Aidan and Jayne (not to mention the older children!). She is as bad as I am. Heh.
A month ago, the triplets were born in my husband’s family. I am very close with the mother of these triplets, his niece, Azeen. I was with her through every step of her IUI and her pregnancy. She and I have been close since I first met my husband almost 15 years ago. She had 2 girls, Maya and Talia, and a boy, Khalid. None of them look the least bit like the other. The boy looks exactly like his dad. Talia looks like her older sister (the 2 ½ year old Leya, my little darling love) Maya looks like Azeen. A LOT. The other night, I had wandered down the street to see how the babies are doing and help out if needed. Azeen brought in Talia, and I looked at her and noticed what a lovely little nose she has! Right about the time Azeen looked from her baby to me and back again. Then she shook her head and said, “you know, I was just thinking what a pretty nose she has, then I noticed: SHE HAS YOUR NOSE! How the hell did THAT happen?” then she started laughing! She really does! What is funny about this is that I’m not related by blood to this baby, so DNA is totally out! No one in this family has a nose remotely similar to mine. It’s really a crack up. So now when she is carrying Talia says “here is little Talia that has Auntie Cyn’s nose for some strange reason”.
Then a few days ago, Azeen’s younger sister gave birth to her second child, a boy. That she swiped the Persian name (and the ONLY one that I have EVER liked-since I HAD to choose one) I had chosen for my own son and had been holding on to for 10+ years! Yes, Z made the mistake of mentioning it once and I guess it stuck in her head. Never mind that until about 2 weeks before she delivered, the baby’s name was going to be Joshua! Sigh.
The sister between these two has a little boy, Joey, who gives me the best hugs and he is so adorable and funny as anything. He is the stockiest little boy I’ve ever seen. He and Leya are one month apart in age. He looks 4. He took a flying leap at me last week for a hug and I thought I’d been jumped on by a 4-month-old bear cub! He just likes to hang off my neck with me holding him and give me kisses over and over and hugs. Well, that and for me to sing Barney with him. Oh yeah, I could sit like that ALL DAY! I think I should nick name him Bam-Bam! Yeaaah!
Last night, Z and his mom were talking in front of me (notice I didn’t say WITH ME?) about this new little baby, with the absconded name. He asked her what his name is (cause she butchers every single name imaginable for some stupid reason, even Persian names-her own nationality- which makes NO sense). She jerked it about a bit, and then he told her for the 1000th time the proper name. She said, “Your sister ‘N’, (not the grandma of said babies) said you were sad cause they took the name you wanted and she thought it wrong. Why? Like she (points and gestures to me) is gonna have anymore? HAH! Yeah, wait for HER to get pregnant and have you a son, OR daughter for that matter.”
You know, sometimes, I really wish she would just take a kitchen knife to me –repeatedly- instead of opening her mouth. I really, really do. It’s shit like that, that makes me wish I could pop out a set of twins (one each, preferably) just to watch her eat crow. (Not that I would mind having twins, period. There’s just that little added advantage, ya know?) Z let it slip last year that I was doing infertility treatment, and I wanted NO ONE IN HIS FAMILY, other than Azeen, to know I was doing it. Could he keep quiet and respect my wishes? NO! Now, her alternate comments run something like this: “Look, even with all this doctors and medicine she can’t get pregnant. Useless. Look, MY granddaughters, 3 of em, got pregnant using this stuff, but her? Nothing.”. If she only knew that if it wasn’t for the doctors and medicines 11 years ago, she wouldn’t have Arianna either!
Are you wondering if I said anything? Well guess what? I didn’t make one peep, like usual. Because you know what? That hurt like hell, but I was dammed if I’d let her see the damage she’d done and how it hurt me.
So, for now, until my ovaries decide to obey me, IF they decide to obey me, Dr. Wand Monkey, and all those drugs I get injected in my system to HELP THEM work properly, I’ll just have to be content to be Auntie Cyn to my “nieces and nephews” scattered hither an yon on the planet.
To all of these children in my life I say this: Welcome to the world little ones! There will always be a place on my lap and in my arms, a hug, a kiss, and a song for you from me, forever!
WOW! When it rains, it pours! There is a major influx of babies in my life at the moment. And I'm lovin it!
I love children and ADORE babies. I am an exhausted mothers dream visitor. I will willingly ( and usually beg her to let me)give her a break and watch the baby so that she can have a little precious time for herself. Diapers don’t intimidate me. Most children love me, and I them. I can occupy myself playing with a child(ren) for hours, and have done so. Frequently.
Yesterday, as you all know from reading my blog, my friend Genuine and his wife welcomed little Aidan James into the Genuine Clan.
Now I love babies, am enthralled by them, (hell, I’m surrounded by babies!) but little Aidan? I took one look at that little guy, and watched him kick open the door to my heart and crawl right in and make himself nice and comfy for the duration. As a matter of fact, I had a reaction to him that I haven’t had towards any child since I first beheld my own newborn daughter. I’m not ashamed –but am still shocked-to say that I felt my heart get tight in my chest and then found tears filling and then silently overflowing my eyes and course down my cheeks. (I have a feeling that Gen is gonna tease me about this forever) I’m a big softie, I know!
Now when my blog pal Lee and his wifey welcomed their lovely and oh-so-precious Jayne to the world almost two weeks ago during the Haiku Smackdown, I had a completely different,and very typical for me,although no less emotional, reaction. Every single time I look at her (cause Daddy Lee knows how I lurve to lurk on that Baby Jayne Cam!) I have this overwhelming and uncontrollable urge TO JUMP INTO MY MONITOR!!! Like an idiot I find myself making the stupid baby noises that most adults make to little babies. To. A. Monitor. Uh-huh. Sigh. Jayne is really so adorable with a beautiful big smile. Lee asked me last night on IM…. “Does it make your uterus ache?”. Ya hon, it sure as hell does! I couldn’t have put it any better myself.
*note to uterus and reproductive neighbors, the Obtuse Ovaries: can you please, PLEASE straighten your damn self up and get your act together?”
Mindy and I have commented to each other that when we descend on Denver in October, we will probably end up playing “pass the baby” together…for hours. Taking turns between Aidan and Jayne (not to mention the older children!). She is as bad as I am. Heh.
A month ago, the triplets were born in my husband’s family. I am very close with the mother of these triplets, his niece, Azeen. I was with her through every step of her IUI and her pregnancy. She and I have been close since I first met my husband almost 15 years ago. She had 2 girls, Maya and Talia, and a boy, Khalid. None of them look the least bit like the other. The boy looks exactly like his dad. Talia looks like her older sister (the 2 ½ year old Leya, my little darling love) Maya looks like Azeen. A LOT. The other night, I had wandered down the street to see how the babies are doing and help out if needed. Azeen brought in Talia, and I looked at her and noticed what a lovely little nose she has! Right about the time Azeen looked from her baby to me and back again. Then she shook her head and said, “you know, I was just thinking what a pretty nose she has, then I noticed: SHE HAS YOUR NOSE! How the hell did THAT happen?” then she started laughing! She really does! What is funny about this is that I’m not related by blood to this baby, so DNA is totally out! No one in this family has a nose remotely similar to mine. It’s really a crack up. So now when she is carrying Talia says “here is little Talia that has Auntie Cyn’s nose for some strange reason”.
Then a few days ago, Azeen’s younger sister gave birth to her second child, a boy. That she swiped the Persian name (and the ONLY one that I have EVER liked-since I HAD to choose one) I had chosen for my own son and had been holding on to for 10+ years! Yes, Z made the mistake of mentioning it once and I guess it stuck in her head. Never mind that until about 2 weeks before she delivered, the baby’s name was going to be Joshua! Sigh.
The sister between these two has a little boy, Joey, who gives me the best hugs and he is so adorable and funny as anything. He is the stockiest little boy I’ve ever seen. He and Leya are one month apart in age. He looks 4. He took a flying leap at me last week for a hug and I thought I’d been jumped on by a 4-month-old bear cub! He just likes to hang off my neck with me holding him and give me kisses over and over and hugs. Well, that and for me to sing Barney with him. Oh yeah, I could sit like that ALL DAY! I think I should nick name him Bam-Bam! Yeaaah!
Last night, Z and his mom were talking in front of me (notice I didn’t say WITH ME?) about this new little baby, with the absconded name. He asked her what his name is (cause she butchers every single name imaginable for some stupid reason, even Persian names-her own nationality- which makes NO sense). She jerked it about a bit, and then he told her for the 1000th time the proper name. She said, “Your sister ‘N’, (not the grandma of said babies) said you were sad cause they took the name you wanted and she thought it wrong. Why? Like she (points and gestures to me) is gonna have anymore? HAH! Yeah, wait for HER to get pregnant and have you a son, OR daughter for that matter.”
You know, sometimes, I really wish she would just take a kitchen knife to me –repeatedly- instead of opening her mouth. I really, really do. It’s shit like that, that makes me wish I could pop out a set of twins (one each, preferably) just to watch her eat crow. (Not that I would mind having twins, period. There’s just that little added advantage, ya know?) Z let it slip last year that I was doing infertility treatment, and I wanted NO ONE IN HIS FAMILY, other than Azeen, to know I was doing it. Could he keep quiet and respect my wishes? NO! Now, her alternate comments run something like this: “Look, even with all this doctors and medicine she can’t get pregnant. Useless. Look, MY granddaughters, 3 of em, got pregnant using this stuff, but her? Nothing.”. If she only knew that if it wasn’t for the doctors and medicines 11 years ago, she wouldn’t have Arianna either!
Are you wondering if I said anything? Well guess what? I didn’t make one peep, like usual. Because you know what? That hurt like hell, but I was dammed if I’d let her see the damage she’d done and how it hurt me.
So, for now, until my ovaries decide to obey me, IF they decide to obey me, Dr. Wand Monkey, and all those drugs I get injected in my system to HELP THEM work properly, I’ll just have to be content to be Auntie Cyn to my “nieces and nephews” scattered hither an yon on the planet.
To all of these children in my life I say this: Welcome to the world little ones! There will always be a place on my lap and in my arms, a hug, a kiss, and a song for you from me, forever!
7/04/2004
Aidan's HERE!!!!!!!!
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Baby Aidan James was born at 2:30 am today! I'm so estatic and so very happy for them all. I don't have stats yet, but I'm sure he's just perfect! I just got my notification call from Houla Doula. (Again, thanks Tammy!)Mother and baby are doing fine. I'm glad, from a woman's point of view, that her labor was short.
CONGRATULATIONS TO THE GEUNINE'S ON THE BIRTH OF BABY AIDAN JAMES!
According to inside sources... Genuine is beyond thrilled (Great catch Gen!Heh.) and also amazed that he has NO WAY TO POST ANYTHING TO HIS BLOG! Can't post. Can't audblog. Poor thing. Don't worry Gen, we'll all wait patiently for your blow-by-blow tomorrow. All of you get some rest!
(Do y'all think I could possibly use any more exclamation marks than I already have? No? Think again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Again, Congrats! Kiss that baby Aidan for me!
Love and hugs ~ Cyn
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Baby Aidan James was born at 2:30 am today! I'm so estatic and so very happy for them all. I don't have stats yet, but I'm sure he's just perfect! I just got my notification call from Houla Doula. (Again, thanks Tammy!)Mother and baby are doing fine. I'm glad, from a woman's point of view, that her labor was short.
CONGRATULATIONS TO THE GEUNINE'S ON THE BIRTH OF BABY AIDAN JAMES!
According to inside sources... Genuine is beyond thrilled (Great catch Gen!Heh.) and also amazed that he has NO WAY TO POST ANYTHING TO HIS BLOG! Can't post. Can't audblog. Poor thing. Don't worry Gen, we'll all wait patiently for your blow-by-blow tomorrow. All of you get some rest!
(Do y'all think I could possibly use any more exclamation marks than I already have? No? Think again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Again, Congrats! Kiss that baby Aidan for me!
Love and hugs ~ Cyn
Baby Aidan On The Way!
No, not MY baby Aidan,(don't I wish though?) but my friend Genuine's! Woohoooo! I'm so excited.
First his dog wanders back home, now his new son has decided to make his appearance. Actually, I told both he and the Mrs while chatting on IM a mere SIX hours ago, that since Dodger the dog showed up, Aidan shouldn't be too far behind!
I'd like to give a big THANK YOU to Genuine's SIL, Houla Doula for the long distance phone call alert at 6:30am my time that the baby was on the way. (Don't worry honey, I was almost out the door to go to work!) And an extra big THANKS to Genuine, for insisting that she call me! MWAAAAH to both of you! (If you don't mind, I'll save all demonstrations of affection for Mrs. G until AFTER her body is through expelling that baby out... she might get violent and smack me good in the middle of a contraction!)
I'll keep y'all updated when I get my next phone call.........(hint hint!)
No, not MY baby Aidan,(don't I wish though?) but my friend Genuine's! Woohoooo! I'm so excited.
First his dog wanders back home, now his new son has decided to make his appearance. Actually, I told both he and the Mrs while chatting on IM a mere SIX hours ago, that since Dodger the dog showed up, Aidan shouldn't be too far behind!
I'd like to give a big THANK YOU to Genuine's SIL, Houla Doula for the long distance phone call alert at 6:30am my time that the baby was on the way. (Don't worry honey, I was almost out the door to go to work!) And an extra big THANKS to Genuine, for insisting that she call me! MWAAAAH to both of you! (If you don't mind, I'll save all demonstrations of affection for Mrs. G until AFTER her body is through expelling that baby out... she might get violent and smack me good in the middle of a contraction!)
I'll keep y'all updated when I get my next phone call.........(hint hint!)
7/03/2004
The Review
Well gang. I came back from Spiderman 2 a few hours ago. I must say……
IT WAS SO DAMN GOOD! I liked it MUCH more than the first one. Yeah, considerably much more.
When the house lights came back up…I walked out of the theater feeling satisfied. Toby, that little wuss, he was great… but Alfred Molina was amazing. He really brought life to the character of “Doc Ock”.
Besides the special effects in the movie, which were good, including the most kick-ass amazing fight scene on a moving train I’ve seen in a good long while! There were some good one-liners throughout the film, which were good and quite frankly had me chuckling out loud. My favorite is the discussion about the Spidey suit with the damn fine man with the adorable basset hound in the elevator. The story was also much better, more... into Peter Parker’s inner demons. Hell, everyone’s inner demons! It was more emotional all the way around. Deep. Well, as deep as a movie based on a comic strip character can be.
I was a little surprised by some of the things towards the end of the movie. But in a “what the hell?” good kind of way. I absolutely LOVED the very last scene between Toby and Kirsten . Some goooood shiiiiiit, that. Melt.
To say that I enjoyed the film at ALL with some ASSHATS in front of us bringing their SHREIKING 8 month old…. And the asshats behind us somewhere that brought their toddlers to the movie, and let them wander up and down the steps in THE DARK for 2 hours and 10minutes. The mom in me was terrified that one of the little rugrats would fall and bust their ass in the dark. Then there are the little bastards that were sitting in the row directly behind me. Why did I say little? These probably 10-11 year old boys weighted about 200lbs and KEPT GETTING UP TO GO TO THE DAMN CONCESSION STAND every few minutes. Why should I care? Cause, they would grab on to the back of my chair- getting a good handful of my hair in the process- and haul their asses past me, scaring the LIVING SHIT out of me and making me think the whole row of seats were gonna come up from their bolted positions in the floor. Make sense now? Good.
Bottom line is… Go see this movie. It is really worth the money.
Well gang. I came back from Spiderman 2 a few hours ago. I must say……
IT WAS SO DAMN GOOD! I liked it MUCH more than the first one. Yeah, considerably much more.
When the house lights came back up…I walked out of the theater feeling satisfied. Toby, that little wuss, he was great… but Alfred Molina was amazing. He really brought life to the character of “Doc Ock”.
Besides the special effects in the movie, which were good, including the most kick-ass amazing fight scene on a moving train I’ve seen in a good long while! There were some good one-liners throughout the film, which were good and quite frankly had me chuckling out loud. My favorite is the discussion about the Spidey suit with the damn fine man with the adorable basset hound in the elevator. The story was also much better, more... into Peter Parker’s inner demons. Hell, everyone’s inner demons! It was more emotional all the way around. Deep. Well, as deep as a movie based on a comic strip character can be.
I was a little surprised by some of the things towards the end of the movie. But in a “what the hell?” good kind of way. I absolutely LOVED the very last scene between Toby and Kirsten . Some goooood shiiiiiit, that. Melt.
To say that I enjoyed the film at ALL with some ASSHATS in front of us bringing their SHREIKING 8 month old…. And the asshats behind us somewhere that brought their toddlers to the movie, and let them wander up and down the steps in THE DARK for 2 hours and 10minutes. The mom in me was terrified that one of the little rugrats would fall and bust their ass in the dark. Then there are the little bastards that were sitting in the row directly behind me. Why did I say little? These probably 10-11 year old boys weighted about 200lbs and KEPT GETTING UP TO GO TO THE DAMN CONCESSION STAND every few minutes. Why should I care? Cause, they would grab on to the back of my chair- getting a good handful of my hair in the process- and haul their asses past me, scaring the LIVING SHIT out of me and making me think the whole row of seats were gonna come up from their bolted positions in the floor. Make sense now? Good.
Bottom line is… Go see this movie. It is really worth the money.
6/30/2004
Could My Day Get Any Worse?
Yeah, probably. I won't be so stupid as to make the comment "what ELSE could happen?" cause invariably, something will. I belive in covering my ass whenever possible, so, if you don't mind, I will refrain from making the previous comment, okay?
The major VIP PR event I killed myself for in the last week that was given to me last minute to organize, and changed around repeatedly went off beautifully and without a hitch yesterday, naturally! Yeah, I'm good. I'm glad it went smoothly. Even the food was perfect at the lunch that followed, or so I hear. Thank you Lord for answering my devout prayers.
Things at work are getting progressivly more nightmarish today. Everything is all ass-backwards. Just. Fucking. Great. My normally good-natured boss is in a pissy mood. Lord above knows what set him off. Majority of the staff here are... assholes. Dragging feet... half-ass work. But oh the job security for locals! They'd have to kill someone or embezzle loads of cash to get fired. Such are the labor laws here. Sweet, no? My boss wants to tear his hair out. And quite frankly, so do I.
Last night wasn't so great either, come to think of it. Well, it was going.. allright there for a while... but then.... things went kind of downhill.
Last night, I started working out again. I was looking forward to it even! Lets' hope this euphoric feeling will continue into the near future, shall we? I mean, I actually was happy to feel the burn in my ass and thighs caused by 30 min on the exercise bike (with resistance). To feel the strain in my muscles on the nautilus equipment. Woohooo. Yeah, I've definetly lost my marbles. The only thing that sucked was that 1) some asshole killed the treadmill. and 2) my work out partner, is, well.......a dork. A lazy one. But I must admit, her inepitude and utter unfamilliarity with any of the equipment (in which I then bacame trainer too!) sent me into bouts of hysterics. Hey! She was comic, AND laughing at herself almost as bad... so..... anyhooo, we finished after much laughter and burning of muscles (she's a total wimp, BTW)and cussing at each other. We went our separate ways on home.
Me, feeling good after my workout... had a quickie chat on my mobile phone with one of my favorite people on the whole planet , which upped my mood even more! Then, I walked in the house with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.... where my MIL was lying in wait for me. Well, shit.
I was, oh, about 2 steps in the front door when her mouth opened. I tried to be pleasant and reply calmly. To not get upset. To say as little as possible. To not lose my temper (ok, I managed this one to a certain extent). I even tried to just walk through the house to get away from the barrage of crap flying out of her mouth at me. No such luck. She followed me - everywhere- getting more and more loud, rude, nasty, accusatory, etc.. et al. Her shitty comments about me, snide as they were, started when he came home after work. He blew me off about them, like "so, big deal?". Fine, as usual. But, I had the AUDACITY to go out, to actually work out. Her SON was not home, so, therefore, apparently, based on prior experience, it is OK if HE wants to go hang out, work out, go walking at 11pm, do whatever and not say where he is going. He can go hang at his neice's house till way past midnight if HE wants. But the SECOND I leave the house to do something when he isn't there... or, God forbid, we both go to the neice's house, all hell breaks loose. So, finally, I said something. Not rude per se, (don't ask me how I managed it, I have NO idea)but basically when she was saying "well I don't know about that...." I said in a very weary and fed up voice (cause, that's what I am) "Well, if someone doesn't know or is unsure, then maybe nothing shoud be said or they should check before they begin a tirade, hmmm?" Then I walked in my room and hopped in the shower. Ah, safe haven beneath the warm pulsing water where her voice cannot reach. Haven, get it? heh.
I was pissed though that I was enjoying my good mood for about all of an HOUR only. Damn. When Z came home, he said "what's up? you went? " I said "Yeah, but I regret it, cause your mom lit into me when I got home." Again: "Oh?", then threw out a snide comment, and he went to bed. Wonderful.
As I am typing this, I recieved a phone call from poor Arianna. It seems that monster is wandering the house screaming down curses on my head about my sheer NERVE to go out. How dare I? Blah blah blah... Arianna is telling me she is getting a headache from all of it, and that "she won't shut up. Can I please go ride my bike to get away for a while?" Go for it kid. I hear ya.
Does anyone know where I can get an "Im surrounded by assholes" tee shirt that my boobs can fit in? Lemmie know, will ya?
Yeah, probably. I won't be so stupid as to make the comment "what ELSE could happen?" cause invariably, something will. I belive in covering my ass whenever possible, so, if you don't mind, I will refrain from making the previous comment, okay?
The major VIP PR event I killed myself for in the last week that was given to me last minute to organize, and changed around repeatedly went off beautifully and without a hitch yesterday, naturally! Yeah, I'm good. I'm glad it went smoothly. Even the food was perfect at the lunch that followed, or so I hear. Thank you Lord for answering my devout prayers.
Things at work are getting progressivly more nightmarish today. Everything is all ass-backwards. Just. Fucking. Great. My normally good-natured boss is in a pissy mood. Lord above knows what set him off. Majority of the staff here are... assholes. Dragging feet... half-ass work. But oh the job security for locals! They'd have to kill someone or embezzle loads of cash to get fired. Such are the labor laws here. Sweet, no? My boss wants to tear his hair out. And quite frankly, so do I.
Last night wasn't so great either, come to think of it. Well, it was going.. allright there for a while... but then.... things went kind of downhill.
Last night, I started working out again. I was looking forward to it even! Lets' hope this euphoric feeling will continue into the near future, shall we? I mean, I actually was happy to feel the burn in my ass and thighs caused by 30 min on the exercise bike (with resistance). To feel the strain in my muscles on the nautilus equipment. Woohooo. Yeah, I've definetly lost my marbles. The only thing that sucked was that 1) some asshole killed the treadmill. and 2) my work out partner, is, well.......a dork. A lazy one. But I must admit, her inepitude and utter unfamilliarity with any of the equipment (in which I then bacame trainer too!) sent me into bouts of hysterics. Hey! She was comic, AND laughing at herself almost as bad... so..... anyhooo, we finished after much laughter and burning of muscles (she's a total wimp, BTW)and cussing at each other. We went our separate ways on home.
Me, feeling good after my workout... had a quickie chat on my mobile phone with one of my favorite people on the whole planet , which upped my mood even more! Then, I walked in the house with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.... where my MIL was lying in wait for me. Well, shit.
I was, oh, about 2 steps in the front door when her mouth opened. I tried to be pleasant and reply calmly. To not get upset. To say as little as possible. To not lose my temper (ok, I managed this one to a certain extent). I even tried to just walk through the house to get away from the barrage of crap flying out of her mouth at me. No such luck. She followed me - everywhere- getting more and more loud, rude, nasty, accusatory, etc.. et al. Her shitty comments about me, snide as they were, started when he came home after work. He blew me off about them, like "so, big deal?". Fine, as usual. But, I had the AUDACITY to go out, to actually work out. Her SON was not home, so, therefore, apparently, based on prior experience, it is OK if HE wants to go hang out, work out, go walking at 11pm, do whatever and not say where he is going. He can go hang at his neice's house till way past midnight if HE wants. But the SECOND I leave the house to do something when he isn't there... or, God forbid, we both go to the neice's house, all hell breaks loose. So, finally, I said something. Not rude per se, (don't ask me how I managed it, I have NO idea)but basically when she was saying "well I don't know about that...." I said in a very weary and fed up voice (cause, that's what I am) "Well, if someone doesn't know or is unsure, then maybe nothing shoud be said or they should check before they begin a tirade, hmmm?" Then I walked in my room and hopped in the shower. Ah, safe haven beneath the warm pulsing water where her voice cannot reach. Haven, get it? heh.
I was pissed though that I was enjoying my good mood for about all of an HOUR only. Damn. When Z came home, he said "what's up? you went? " I said "Yeah, but I regret it, cause your mom lit into me when I got home." Again: "Oh?", then threw out a snide comment, and he went to bed. Wonderful.
As I am typing this, I recieved a phone call from poor Arianna. It seems that monster is wandering the house screaming down curses on my head about my sheer NERVE to go out. How dare I? Blah blah blah... Arianna is telling me she is getting a headache from all of it, and that "she won't shut up. Can I please go ride my bike to get away for a while?" Go for it kid. I hear ya.
Does anyone know where I can get an "Im surrounded by assholes" tee shirt that my boobs can fit in? Lemmie know, will ya?
6/29/2004
It’s Official!
Now no complaining!! Y'all know that even if I wasn’t so completely into the whole Harry Potter thing, I still would have had to post this for Arianna’s sake.
Well, that and apparently, according to Arianna, Daniel Radcliffe that plays Harry in the films, will be my future son-in-law, so, you know, look at it as I’m being loyal to them both. Well, at least my girl has good taste in boys!
Oooh, I can hear my darling Amalah howling all the way over here on the other side of the planet!
So, in case you haven’t heard yet, the title of the latest book in the series will be………
*drum roll please*
“Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince”
And no, according to J.K. “I’m richer that the Queen” Rowling, the half blood prince is not Lord Voldemort. Hmm, I wonder……
Yaaaay! I can’t wait till its out and I can add it to my…erm, Arianna’s collection. Heh.
I wanna send a shout out to my friends Saz and Tom! I promised I would so they can brag that they knew me way back when after I’m a famous author (so they say!).
Now no complaining!! Y'all know that even if I wasn’t so completely into the whole Harry Potter thing, I still would have had to post this for Arianna’s sake.
Well, that and apparently, according to Arianna, Daniel Radcliffe that plays Harry in the films, will be my future son-in-law, so, you know, look at it as I’m being loyal to them both. Well, at least my girl has good taste in boys!
Oooh, I can hear my darling Amalah howling all the way over here on the other side of the planet!
So, in case you haven’t heard yet, the title of the latest book in the series will be………
*drum roll please*
“Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince”
And no, according to J.K. “I’m richer that the Queen” Rowling, the half blood prince is not Lord Voldemort. Hmm, I wonder……
Yaaaay! I can’t wait till its out and I can add it to my…erm, Arianna’s collection. Heh.
I wanna send a shout out to my friends Saz and Tom! I promised I would so they can brag that they knew me way back when after I’m a famous author (so they say!).
6/28/2004
Rigidly Flexible
Somehow, I kinda figured that would get your attention. Heavens know it got mine! Come on, join me in the gutter for laps. Heh.
Y'all remember Katie, my tequila drinking buddy and new "mate" from a few weeks ago? Weeeel, we decided to be good girls and went for afternoon English Tea at the Ritz-Carlton. No booze this time. Ha. THIS time. Sound nice? It was. So lovely, so relaxing. A real treat long overdue.
Katie is Irish, like MOI, excecpt that she was BORN THERE. Sigh. But, she grew up in Austrailia, so she totally has this Austrailian accent. I swear her voice is just like Nicole Kidman. Excecpt, she is 5'1, not 6'1. Totally "black Irish", beautiful shiny black hair, milky skin like me, and these HUGE gorgeous blue eyes. She is SO much fun to be with, such a complete sweetheart. We have a blast together.
So I was doing fine at behaving myself and having a lovely afternoon tea with finger sandwiches and scones with clotted cream and fresh blackberry & raspberry preserves, delicate slivers of cake. Yum. Yum. Yum. Well, at least I was until Katie started talking about an interview she went on recently. Then, well, then I started laughing my ass off.
She was regaling me with the details of the working hours in particular. They told her flexible working hours. So, she therefore wanted them to go into greater detail. This older and very stodgy British gentleman went on to clarify that they have "Rigidly Flexible" hours. Katie paused for effect and looked at me, eyebrow waggle. Smart girl.
"Rigidly Flexible??", I ask, snikering and trying to behave myself. "Isn't that a contradiction in terms? How can it be rigid and flexible? Well, some things can be, but not what we are talking about!" That did it for Katie, cause she knew what I was talking about. *la la la, whistles Dixie while doing laps in gutter* She started laughing, and then I started. As if I could have held it in? The hell I could. And of course I then went on to make a few really naughty comments about rigidly flexible things -quietly of course!- all the while laughing myself silly in the most dignified manner possible and making Katie chortle with glee.
Y'all? Do you have ANY idea how difficult that is? It's damn hard. Hell, it's so hard in fact, that it could NEVER be considered rigidly flexible.
Somehow, I kinda figured that would get your attention. Heavens know it got mine! Come on, join me in the gutter for laps. Heh.
Y'all remember Katie, my tequila drinking buddy and new "mate" from a few weeks ago? Weeeel, we decided to be good girls and went for afternoon English Tea at the Ritz-Carlton. No booze this time. Ha. THIS time. Sound nice? It was. So lovely, so relaxing. A real treat long overdue.
Katie is Irish, like MOI, excecpt that she was BORN THERE. Sigh. But, she grew up in Austrailia, so she totally has this Austrailian accent. I swear her voice is just like Nicole Kidman. Excecpt, she is 5'1, not 6'1. Totally "black Irish", beautiful shiny black hair, milky skin like me, and these HUGE gorgeous blue eyes. She is SO much fun to be with, such a complete sweetheart. We have a blast together.
So I was doing fine at behaving myself and having a lovely afternoon tea with finger sandwiches and scones with clotted cream and fresh blackberry & raspberry preserves, delicate slivers of cake. Yum. Yum. Yum. Well, at least I was until Katie started talking about an interview she went on recently. Then, well, then I started laughing my ass off.
She was regaling me with the details of the working hours in particular. They told her flexible working hours. So, she therefore wanted them to go into greater detail. This older and very stodgy British gentleman went on to clarify that they have "Rigidly Flexible" hours. Katie paused for effect and looked at me, eyebrow waggle. Smart girl.
"Rigidly Flexible??", I ask, snikering and trying to behave myself. "Isn't that a contradiction in terms? How can it be rigid and flexible? Well, some things can be, but not what we are talking about!" That did it for Katie, cause she knew what I was talking about. *la la la, whistles Dixie while doing laps in gutter* She started laughing, and then I started. As if I could have held it in? The hell I could. And of course I then went on to make a few really naughty comments about rigidly flexible things -quietly of course!- all the while laughing myself silly in the most dignified manner possible and making Katie chortle with glee.
Y'all? Do you have ANY idea how difficult that is? It's damn hard. Hell, it's so hard in fact, that it could NEVER be considered rigidly flexible.
6/25/2004
Sincere Thanks,Congratulations, and a big Southern Welcome!!!
First of all I would like to say Congratulations to Lee and the missus on the birth of their little beauty Jayne yesterday. I find it fitting that the little angel was born in the middle of Haiku Smackdown. Welcome to the world little one!
Allrighty then. Secondly, I really must give a shout out and a huge thanks to Genuine! Apparently I crack him up like nobodys business. He's a big sweetheart! Seems he's trying to put a little blogger traffic my way, so for this, he deserves a cyber hug from me! *Big hug* Say it with me now......Awwwwwwww, ain't that sweet?? It sure is.
See, more of Genuine's readers would know me if his blog didn't HATE ME! Yes, for some reason unknown to both Genuine and myself, his blog will not allow me to leave comments. It is the strangest thing. That is a real pity, because believe me,I'm chock full of comments most days. Heh.
To all of you darlings that might be visiting for the first time due to either Genuine's reference OR to having had a close encounter of the Haiku Smackdown kind with me yesterday, I bid you Welcome to my Haven!!
Please come on in, take off your shoes, or whatever else yanks your chain (cause we're all friends here. I won't take video unless you want me too, but I get a cut of the proceeds from the sales!), put your feet up and have a nice cold glass of lemonade with me. Allright, not in the mood for lemonade? Not even SPIKED lemonade? Sigh. Well, I must be hospitable of y'all will think my Mama didn't instill me with proper manners... how bout a pitcher of margheritas? Yeah, I thought that might appeal! *wink* If you're nice, I'll even break out with my homemade 7 layer dip and chips to go along with the bottomless pitcher of margs.
To my regular visitors: terribly sorry I haven't posted since Daddy's Day y'all. It's been one of those weeks. One of those weeks I'd rather forget and not experience again.I'll be better, I promise. As a pennance, I will put one of my favorite southern jokes of all time on here for eternity. Hows that??
Mighty Fine....heh!
Three Southern Belle's are sitting on the front porch of a plantation manor house sipping lemonade. All three are filthy rich and devastatingly beautiful and chariming.
The first Belle, who's father owns the plantation they are at, says to her friends: "Y'all, my Daddy is so rich, that he owns all this land as far as the eye can see in four directions. All of our fields are so very very prosperous, that Daddy says that even my Mama couldn't spend all the profits from them!" She looks at the other two smugly, yet sweetly. Belle number two smiles and says... How lovely for y'all honey!" Belle number three also smiles and says "That's mighty fine!!"
The Second Belle, not to be outdone, tells the other two: "Well, MY Daddy owns the finest cattle and horseflesh in the whole South! The Derby winner every year is from our stables. Even the President himself has horses from our stables!" Belle two waits for the appropriate comments from one and three which follow in short order. One (Slightly jealously and cattily replies: "Well isn't that wonderful darlin?" Belle No 3 replies with "Well, that's MIGHTY FINE!!" with just the sweetest expression you ever did see on her face.
Well, the first two belles are waiting for Belle No 3 to regale them with how wonderful her Daddy is. She stays quiet a bit longer..
Finally, belle one, the richest and most hoity toity of all three can't hold herself quiet anymore and says to belle No 3 inquiringly "Well darlin, what about YOUR Daddy?"
She replies, voice dripping with honey sweetness, :"Well, since you asked, my daddy isn't as rich as your daddy or yours either , although we are well to do and live on a plantation also" My Daddy figured the best use for his money was to send his baby girl, me, to deportment classes and finishing school. Which is why I say "That's mighty fine!" instead of "Fuck you bitch!"
Update: Genuine, under threat of no Southern Breakfast, has managed to get my ban from his blog lifted! woooohoooo!
First of all I would like to say Congratulations to Lee and the missus on the birth of their little beauty Jayne yesterday. I find it fitting that the little angel was born in the middle of Haiku Smackdown. Welcome to the world little one!
Allrighty then. Secondly, I really must give a shout out and a huge thanks to Genuine! Apparently I crack him up like nobodys business. He's a big sweetheart! Seems he's trying to put a little blogger traffic my way, so for this, he deserves a cyber hug from me! *Big hug* Say it with me now......Awwwwwwww, ain't that sweet?? It sure is.
See, more of Genuine's readers would know me if his blog didn't HATE ME! Yes, for some reason unknown to both Genuine and myself, his blog will not allow me to leave comments. It is the strangest thing. That is a real pity, because believe me,I'm chock full of comments most days. Heh.
To all of you darlings that might be visiting for the first time due to either Genuine's reference OR to having had a close encounter of the Haiku Smackdown kind with me yesterday, I bid you Welcome to my Haven!!
Please come on in, take off your shoes, or whatever else yanks your chain (cause we're all friends here. I won't take video unless you want me too, but I get a cut of the proceeds from the sales!), put your feet up and have a nice cold glass of lemonade with me. Allright, not in the mood for lemonade? Not even SPIKED lemonade? Sigh. Well, I must be hospitable of y'all will think my Mama didn't instill me with proper manners... how bout a pitcher of margheritas? Yeah, I thought that might appeal! *wink* If you're nice, I'll even break out with my homemade 7 layer dip and chips to go along with the bottomless pitcher of margs.
To my regular visitors: terribly sorry I haven't posted since Daddy's Day y'all. It's been one of those weeks. One of those weeks I'd rather forget and not experience again.I'll be better, I promise. As a pennance, I will put one of my favorite southern jokes of all time on here for eternity. Hows that??
Mighty Fine....heh!
Three Southern Belle's are sitting on the front porch of a plantation manor house sipping lemonade. All three are filthy rich and devastatingly beautiful and chariming.
The first Belle, who's father owns the plantation they are at, says to her friends: "Y'all, my Daddy is so rich, that he owns all this land as far as the eye can see in four directions. All of our fields are so very very prosperous, that Daddy says that even my Mama couldn't spend all the profits from them!" She looks at the other two smugly, yet sweetly. Belle number two smiles and says... How lovely for y'all honey!" Belle number three also smiles and says "That's mighty fine!!"
The Second Belle, not to be outdone, tells the other two: "Well, MY Daddy owns the finest cattle and horseflesh in the whole South! The Derby winner every year is from our stables. Even the President himself has horses from our stables!" Belle two waits for the appropriate comments from one and three which follow in short order. One (Slightly jealously and cattily replies: "Well isn't that wonderful darlin?" Belle No 3 replies with "Well, that's MIGHTY FINE!!" with just the sweetest expression you ever did see on her face.
Well, the first two belles are waiting for Belle No 3 to regale them with how wonderful her Daddy is. She stays quiet a bit longer..
Finally, belle one, the richest and most hoity toity of all three can't hold herself quiet anymore and says to belle No 3 inquiringly "Well darlin, what about YOUR Daddy?"
She replies, voice dripping with honey sweetness, :"Well, since you asked, my daddy isn't as rich as your daddy or yours either , although we are well to do and live on a plantation also" My Daddy figured the best use for his money was to send his baby girl, me, to deportment classes and finishing school. Which is why I say "That's mighty fine!" instead of "Fuck you bitch!"
Update: Genuine, under threat of no Southern Breakfast, has managed to get my ban from his blog lifted! woooohoooo!
6/20/2004
Who’s Your Daddy???
To all the Daddies out there, I’d like to wish you a great Father’s Day!! Sit back and relax. No lawn work.. no NADA. Enjoy your day. You deserve it!!!!
My Daddy is Joe, and how I wish I could be with my Dad today, but, like every year, I have to content myself with a phone call. Although, this year, I will give him a special present, I think. Later today when I call I’m going to tell him that I’m coming for a visit in October.
Big deal you say?
Well… he HAS been asking me to come visit for a while now, and there is the little fact that I haven’t physically seen him since my high school graduation. Yeah, back in June1989. Hey! He lived on the other side of the country. A few years later I did try and do a surprise visit…sort of. I flew down to Miami for another reason all together and, when I tried to call him from my hotel… answering machine. Over and over again. For Days. I must have left a trillion messages. (And no you wise-asses, I couldn’t just show up on the doorstep… he had moved.. and I didn’t have the house address, just the P.O. Box, okay?) So back to Los Angeles I went. Would you believe that the house was being fumigated at the time? My damn luck.
After that, well, we went through some very, and I mean EXTREMELY tough times financially, and I just wasn’t able to fly down again, although I wanted to. His health is very poor, so he is forbidden to set foot on a plane. His heart just couldn’t take it. So there he sits and there I sat. Then I moved here to the other side of the planet six plus years ago. And I haven’t gone home to the U.S. since. Till now. It is way past time.
I am the youngest of my Dad’s four children. Two boys, two girls. They were all pretty much grown by the time I was born. I didn’t grow up with them They were living with their mother, well, Joey came to live with us when I was one until I was about 4 when he got way out of control and his mom couldn’t handle him. So I was close with him. My dad’s firstborn, my “half” sister Shelly, is dead. Gone in the prime of her life at 38 under suspicious circumstances. My two “half” brothers Joey and Jeff are not the same after Shelly’s death. They have spent the years since obsessed with trying to ferret out the truth of her death, whatever that may actually be, to no avail.
Then there is me. My Dad was 41 when I was born. My siblings have said that I’m his favorite and it is true that I was, ok and still am, in my heart - Daddy’s Girl. Apparently I got the mellowed version of Dad too. Which is frightening in the extreme, since I remember him as capable of being a total hard-ass. Meaning.. I can still feel my ass sting and burn from a spanking. And he gave bare-assed spankings too. No clothes to soften the blow. Nope. And if you made a peep… you got more. I tell you that if he were able to turn me over his knee today… his hand would STILL cover the majority of my posterior.. and that’s saying SOMETHING. So we are talking serious ass-whoopin here. Dad was a hard taskmaster. And very strict about many things. And OH-MY-GOD his temper. Snap temper. The type of temper that makes you freeze in your tracks and feel ice shoot down your spine. For a child as exuberant as I was he devised a fit, if not necessarily appropriate punishment. The time-out from hell. Sitting in a chair… unmoving (cause then you were in some deep trouble then) for anywhere for 30 minutes to over an hour; and NO, you could not get up to go pee either. You had to hold it. I’d rather not relieve the times I ended up with the belt, if it’s all right by you? Although, in all fairness, as squirrelly as I could be, (one of my uncles told me when I was pregnant that his main memories of me as a young child are of a very blond blur of motion. Yes, a blur.) for as long as I can remember, my parents were always complimented on what a polite, well-behaved child I was. Which I liked. A lot. Cause then, well, I got brownie points with my parents. What I didn’t like was all the old people squeezing my face in Mass every Sunday calling me precious. I loved old people, but NOT the squeezing my face part. I still love sitting with old people and listening to them tell be about “back in my day”, just stay the hell away from my cheeks is all!
He was and still is a stickler for pushing you to do things you thought you couldn’t do. Test your limits. Which at the time, I resented like hell, but now, at almost 33, I’m profoundly grateful for.
When I was around eight or nine… I read the book Jaws. Have you ever read the damn book? The movie was nothing. Trust me. Anyway, I, like most of America and the world, developed a healthy fear of sharks. Ok, I was terrified. So what did he do? He took me to the beach. Then, he said “lets go swimming Friss!”… I said, “Ok, but not too far out.”(Because I figured, those big sharks need deep water to maneuver.. well, that was my logic anyway) “Sure honey!”. So, out we went. Then as usual, we were playing.. and I was hanging on his neck… then he started swimming with powerful strokes…..out into the deep water. I was too terrified to speak, but hell if I know how he could swim with me clutching his neck so tight.(lack of air). Anyway, when the beach was just a thin white ribbon of sand and the people on it no more than specks… he stopped and started treading water. No shark. He stayed out there for a while. Just treading water with me around his neck and talking to me. (Although I vaguely seem to recall trying to climb on his shoulders!)
Out there he taught me about being prepared by both his words and by his actions. If you understand the worst that can happen, then if it does happen, you know what to expect, the worst possible scenario. Still, it could not be as bad as you were expecting. Understand why if at all possible. If it doesn’t happen at all, then be grateful.
So way out in the ocean, treading water he was fearless. He stayed out there until, I suppose, he finished with his lesson and until I calmed down. Me, I figured at least we’d die together and then thought how sad my Mom would be when I didn’t come back from Summer visitation with my Dad this year, being her only child and all. No shark. Well, not any that came to visit us that day anyway. So back we went to shore. Before we reached, I told him my big fear (since I would never go out as deep as we were on my own!) the shallow water. I can still hear him telling me as clear as if he were here with me now as I type, “sharks don’t come up near the beach and attack. Especially not here at Miami or Ft. Lauderdale beaches.” I was insistent that they could. This has actually been an ongoing thing with us all these years. You know, I’m really sorry that a few years ago, someone had to die to prove I was right. Cause a damn shark came up on the very beach, into the very shallows close to the sand, and snatched himself some damn lunch. And yes, you bet your sweet ass I called my Dad and told him that all those years ago, for once, I was right and he was wrong. Ah, he conceded. Wooohoooooo!!!! Point for Cyn!
He taught me that “Where there is a will, there is a way.” One of the biggest compliments, to my mind, that I ever received from my Dad was when I was around 19. He told me, “You know, at least I don’t have to worry too much about you honey, now that you’re grown. You are smart, and so determined and resourceful, I know that if you want something bad enough, that once you’ve put your mind to it, you won’t rest until you get it or achieve it. And if you don’t reach your goal, I know and you know that you gave it your everything and that there was not any other way left to you.” Man, that blew me away. Thinking about it, it still does blow me away. Awwww, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside now.
But, for all the strict disciplinarian ways, he was equally loving and giving. He never was too busy to teach something. To explain why, how, etc… I suppose some of it is from the fact that he spent part of his life as a teacher. He is definitely a natural educator, that is for sure.H taught every grade at least once except for Kindergarten and I think 3rd grade. Yes, he was also a college professor at both University of Southern California (USC) and University of Mississippi. When he decided that he could do more for the youth of America, he pooled his efforts into.. well, you know those damn bubble tests you took as kids in school every year? The national tests? With your No 2 pencil? Um, my Dad is partly to blame for that. Yeah, I know, I know. So anyway, back to my reminiscing. I learned to apply logic and reason to my everyday life at his knee. So well in fact, that sometimes I would leave him at a loss for words or an appropriate argument to refute whatever I was after. (eh, sound familiar Genuine?) heh.
I was always my Daddy’s shadow. ALWAYS. I mean, he couldn’t even shave in peace. I totally worshiped him. Still do actually. He is as funny as anything. A real crack up. And he was blessed with extra helpings of Irish charm too. He is also a natural salesman.. , which, coupled with his gorgeous looks (6’3, thick jet blue-black hair, laughing green eyes and a killer smile) and his charm and intelligence, explains his, ahem, problem with the ladies. Well, HE didn’t think it was a problem I’m sure!!
On the weekends, he would grab his toolbox and head off to the junkyard or “car graveyard” as he liked to call it. That is where I overcame my fear of the big dogs that guarded them. “They can smell your fear and will use it against you. Show them who is master. Be kind, talk in a soft voice. I’m not saying go hug them, but, don’t show your fear.” That is also where I learned about cars and stuff. I am, well, quite mechanically inclined. I understood from an early age how car engines worked. He and I would tinker around there for hours. Him calling for tools from the toolbox teaching me the difference between screwdrivers and different types of pliers and wrenches, etc... as I got older, he would take great joy when he had a car problem, taking me with him. And on the way asking me to look at what seemed to be wrong and give my opinion. He would then have me explain my theory to the poor hapless mechanic. One such instance was the timing chain. The car kept breaking down, and I said from the beginning I thought it was the timing chain. The mechanic unwisely blew my little 8 and a half year self off as a wise ass. Ok, well maybe I was a bit of a wise ass, but…. Anyway, the idiot said it was a hundred other things OTHER than the timing chain. Even though I had EXPLAINED my reasons for suspecting the damn timing chain. A few hundred bucks and 3 breakdowns later… and still the problem persisted. This ruined our whole freaking road trip to Graceland, just me and my daddy, which really pissed me off to no end. (Cause, I SO TOTALLY love the KING, the one and only ELVIS PRESLEY. Got it?) The car finally totally bit it in the middle of the damn highway in Jackson, Mississippi in the left turn lane pulling our 39 foot long Airstream. You’ve never seen so many pissed off people in your life. “Daddy, what does it mean when they stick this finger up at you shouting??” I never got to see Graceland and I had to fly home to Los Angeles, bummed. My dad called me later after I got home, about in 2 weeks and was laughing his ass off. Guess what was wrong with the car?
The FUCKING TIMING CHAIN.
Instead of ALL that money he spent on other things… a $15 timing chain. You can bet your last buck he went back to the original mechanic back in Ft. Lauderdale and rubbed it in his face. “You should have listened to MY DAUGHTER, a child that will be 9 years old in a few weeks, she knows more about cars than YOU DO!”. Heh. Dad loved doing things like that too. By the way, that road trip? I was the navigator. I had the maps and the highlighter pen. I had to figure out the most logical route to where we wanted to go across a few states. Dad’s orders. Even with all the breakdowns of the car.. it was still a great trip. Just me and Dad. Did I mention that my Dad would drive with his knees sometimes? On Cruise Control. (Although, it is MORE fun to watch him drive like that with my mom in the car freaking out!!) 8-track blaring. You know, to this day, every time I hear George Harrison’s “Here Comes The Sun” and “A Kind of Hush” by Herman’s Hermits, I think of that road trip. So much fun.
I have very early memories of my dad. Like from the time I was 2. When he would come home from work, I would get him a beer (cause I was too little to get him a scotch and water, ok? That was later). Budweiser. Mom would open it, and (shhh! Don’t tell. I would taste it to make sure it was ok on my way to him! Probably explains why I hate beer now!) He would sit in his recliner and pull me on his lap. At this time of my life, he had a handlebar moustache. He’d rest me on his stomach on my back with my toes facing his face, and would crack me up by kissing my toes, doing “Dis widdle piggy” then I would wiggle my toes in his moustache and make Him laugh. Both of us laughing like lunatics with my mom in the kitchen shaking her head at us, laughing too. This was the daily routine.
I always, always, until I was almost 4, would ride on my Dads shoulders, with fistfuls of his thick hair in my hands. Now remember, he’s 6’3! That is WAAAY high up. Many nights, as a result of his spinal surgery, the pain would keep him awake. It still does to this day. He would get the midnight munchies. I would hear him awake, and I would wake up. Sometimes, I would open my eyes, and find him sitting near my bed, watching me sleep. Off for a midnight snack! Up on his shoulders I would go for my ride through the house to the kitchen; ducking at the last moment to avoid getting brained by the doorways and light fixtures. There we would always make sandwiches for us…me on his shoulders issuing orders. Joking and chatting away. I still make killer sandwiches. Believe me or not, there is a fine art to the sandwich. It’s all about placement, you realize? Well it is. Trust me on this.
When I was with my Dad, I knew no harm could come to me. And if by some chance I had managed to do some injury to myself, he was there to fix it and dry my tears. One instance, we were on our way back from the beach. In florida, the bridges open up to allow ships to pass, and in one such instance, we got stuck and were parked. All of a sudden we were rear ended from behind. Next thing I knew, my dad was out of that car like a flash, at the drivers side door and yanking the laughing drunk teenage driver out of the car, physically, and shoving him up against the car all up in his face. (Ahem, Irish temper. Insert imagination here, please) Actually, I vaguely recall my dad shaking this probably 18 year old boy like a rag doll. Then he physically drug the guy back to our car and made him look at me. “You see my little daughter? If you’ve hurt her, you’ll wish your mother never birthed you. And he meant it too. Now the guy is terrified and apologizing up, down left right and center. Next thing I remember I’m at the pediatricians learning that I had a mild concussion. Everything else is kind of a blur after that. So much for a nice day at the beach!
I can still recall the little diner that overlooked the runway of Miami International Airport. We would go for breakfast just so I could watch the airplanes take off and land. Whenever he asked where I wanted to go for breakfast, that was my answer. Every time. I would be so happy just sitting there watching the planes. We would sit for hours and talk and watch the airplane traffic.
Another memory once just a shadow, now burned into my mind forever was brought back full force in the most horrible of ways On September 11, 2001. A trip to New York that had many purposes, when I was about 8. #1 an excuse to see my Nana. #2 to introduce my Nana and I to the wonderful lady that would become my stepmother. #3, for my Dad to show me New York., where he grew up. He took me sightseeing. I walked up the stairs inside the Statue of Liberty. And all the way back down. There are a lot of damn stairs. I still have a serious aversion to those tight black iron circular stairs. Shudder.
That was also the year that they finished construction on the Twin Towers. I thought they were beautiful, with so many pretty lights. So tall thrusting up into the night sky. Every night, my eyes would seek them out. My dad decided one night to take Naoemi (step mom) and I to dinner at Windows On The World in Trade Center Tower 1, I believe. I wanted to go, but I was so scared, cause it was so tall. At the time, the tallest building in the world. My Dad made me go. I am forever grateful he did. Memories that were once vague to me came crashing into my consciousness as I watched the tower burn that horrible day, then as I watched it collapse. As I heard it collapse. Yes, I heard it collapse. I was on the phone with my brother-in-law who lived fairly close to it. I was with him on the line as the second plane hit. I was with him when the buildings started collapsing. I heard it. And I heard the horror in his voice, describing to me what he saw from his windows. I will never forget it.
Later that night, as I watched it replayed on TV, I was, like everyone else, in a state of shock. I had been in those buildings when they were new. And now I remembered quite clearly the lobby ... the elevator rides… getting out and changing elevators to continue on up inside the massive building. Up to the very top. And I still remember, seeing the clouds floating by outside the windows. In the restaurant, along the inside of the windows all around the perimeter of it, was a metal railing. I was ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED to go near the windows. I was afraid I would fall. Yeah, you guessed it. He dragged me over, and held me up to the window so I could see the lights and overcome my fear. He held me up, on my knees on the railing and said in my ear “I’ve got you Friss, I won’t let you fall. Look out at the pretty lights from the highest building in the world” And I did. I could see lights as far as you could imagine seeing. All the beautiful lights of New York City and beyond. I looked down a little; to see the clouds, then back out again. He finally let me down when the food arrived at the table. I’m glad he made me go. And I’m glad he made me look out. It was such a beautiful sight. Shortly after 9/11, I called my Dad, and in a choked up voice, I thanked him. For taking me to see the Twins. For making me go inside, and for holding me up to that window. And do you know what he told me? In a voice full of tears, he said: “I was glad to do it honey. I was glad then, and even more so today, now that they are gone.” See, he immediately remembered that trip while watching the news unfold too.
I will always, for as long as I live, remember my Dad singing “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” to me just because, and the traditional Irish lullaby at night when he tucked me in “as snug as a bug in a rug”. Our goodbyes when we had to part from my earliest years.. “See ya later alligator”, and my reply “After while crocodile”.
Lee posted the other day about daddies and being “left out” of the equation, but that always isn’t the case. I wanted my Daddy for everything. Don’t get me wrong, I was and am, so very close to my Mama. But I know now that it hurt my Mom by always wanting Daddy to “fix it”.
But nothing can ever replace a Daddy. (Well unless you mess the kid up really badly psychologically I mean) Every man that enters your daughter’s life once she is grown will have to measure up to you, whether she realizes it or not, and most of them will probably come up wanting in her eyes. Your son, if you were a good role model, will want to emulate all the good things you taught him, by observation as well the things you taught him, as a man, and later as a husband and father to his own children.
So to all of you I say again… A very Happy Father’s Day to all of you.
See ya later alligators!
To all the Daddies out there, I’d like to wish you a great Father’s Day!! Sit back and relax. No lawn work.. no NADA. Enjoy your day. You deserve it!!!!
My Daddy is Joe, and how I wish I could be with my Dad today, but, like every year, I have to content myself with a phone call. Although, this year, I will give him a special present, I think. Later today when I call I’m going to tell him that I’m coming for a visit in October.
Big deal you say?
Well… he HAS been asking me to come visit for a while now, and there is the little fact that I haven’t physically seen him since my high school graduation. Yeah, back in June1989. Hey! He lived on the other side of the country. A few years later I did try and do a surprise visit…sort of. I flew down to Miami for another reason all together and, when I tried to call him from my hotel… answering machine. Over and over again. For Days. I must have left a trillion messages. (And no you wise-asses, I couldn’t just show up on the doorstep… he had moved.. and I didn’t have the house address, just the P.O. Box, okay?) So back to Los Angeles I went. Would you believe that the house was being fumigated at the time? My damn luck.
After that, well, we went through some very, and I mean EXTREMELY tough times financially, and I just wasn’t able to fly down again, although I wanted to. His health is very poor, so he is forbidden to set foot on a plane. His heart just couldn’t take it. So there he sits and there I sat. Then I moved here to the other side of the planet six plus years ago. And I haven’t gone home to the U.S. since. Till now. It is way past time.
I am the youngest of my Dad’s four children. Two boys, two girls. They were all pretty much grown by the time I was born. I didn’t grow up with them They were living with their mother, well, Joey came to live with us when I was one until I was about 4 when he got way out of control and his mom couldn’t handle him. So I was close with him. My dad’s firstborn, my “half” sister Shelly, is dead. Gone in the prime of her life at 38 under suspicious circumstances. My two “half” brothers Joey and Jeff are not the same after Shelly’s death. They have spent the years since obsessed with trying to ferret out the truth of her death, whatever that may actually be, to no avail.
Then there is me. My Dad was 41 when I was born. My siblings have said that I’m his favorite and it is true that I was, ok and still am, in my heart - Daddy’s Girl. Apparently I got the mellowed version of Dad too. Which is frightening in the extreme, since I remember him as capable of being a total hard-ass. Meaning.. I can still feel my ass sting and burn from a spanking. And he gave bare-assed spankings too. No clothes to soften the blow. Nope. And if you made a peep… you got more. I tell you that if he were able to turn me over his knee today… his hand would STILL cover the majority of my posterior.. and that’s saying SOMETHING. So we are talking serious ass-whoopin here. Dad was a hard taskmaster. And very strict about many things. And OH-MY-GOD his temper. Snap temper. The type of temper that makes you freeze in your tracks and feel ice shoot down your spine. For a child as exuberant as I was he devised a fit, if not necessarily appropriate punishment. The time-out from hell. Sitting in a chair… unmoving (cause then you were in some deep trouble then) for anywhere for 30 minutes to over an hour; and NO, you could not get up to go pee either. You had to hold it. I’d rather not relieve the times I ended up with the belt, if it’s all right by you? Although, in all fairness, as squirrelly as I could be, (one of my uncles told me when I was pregnant that his main memories of me as a young child are of a very blond blur of motion. Yes, a blur.) for as long as I can remember, my parents were always complimented on what a polite, well-behaved child I was. Which I liked. A lot. Cause then, well, I got brownie points with my parents. What I didn’t like was all the old people squeezing my face in Mass every Sunday calling me precious. I loved old people, but NOT the squeezing my face part. I still love sitting with old people and listening to them tell be about “back in my day”, just stay the hell away from my cheeks is all!
He was and still is a stickler for pushing you to do things you thought you couldn’t do. Test your limits. Which at the time, I resented like hell, but now, at almost 33, I’m profoundly grateful for.
When I was around eight or nine… I read the book Jaws. Have you ever read the damn book? The movie was nothing. Trust me. Anyway, I, like most of America and the world, developed a healthy fear of sharks. Ok, I was terrified. So what did he do? He took me to the beach. Then, he said “lets go swimming Friss!”… I said, “Ok, but not too far out.”(Because I figured, those big sharks need deep water to maneuver.. well, that was my logic anyway) “Sure honey!”. So, out we went. Then as usual, we were playing.. and I was hanging on his neck… then he started swimming with powerful strokes…..out into the deep water. I was too terrified to speak, but hell if I know how he could swim with me clutching his neck so tight.(lack of air). Anyway, when the beach was just a thin white ribbon of sand and the people on it no more than specks… he stopped and started treading water. No shark. He stayed out there for a while. Just treading water with me around his neck and talking to me. (Although I vaguely seem to recall trying to climb on his shoulders!)
Out there he taught me about being prepared by both his words and by his actions. If you understand the worst that can happen, then if it does happen, you know what to expect, the worst possible scenario. Still, it could not be as bad as you were expecting. Understand why if at all possible. If it doesn’t happen at all, then be grateful.
So way out in the ocean, treading water he was fearless. He stayed out there until, I suppose, he finished with his lesson and until I calmed down. Me, I figured at least we’d die together and then thought how sad my Mom would be when I didn’t come back from Summer visitation with my Dad this year, being her only child and all. No shark. Well, not any that came to visit us that day anyway. So back we went to shore. Before we reached, I told him my big fear (since I would never go out as deep as we were on my own!) the shallow water. I can still hear him telling me as clear as if he were here with me now as I type, “sharks don’t come up near the beach and attack. Especially not here at Miami or Ft. Lauderdale beaches.” I was insistent that they could. This has actually been an ongoing thing with us all these years. You know, I’m really sorry that a few years ago, someone had to die to prove I was right. Cause a damn shark came up on the very beach, into the very shallows close to the sand, and snatched himself some damn lunch. And yes, you bet your sweet ass I called my Dad and told him that all those years ago, for once, I was right and he was wrong. Ah, he conceded. Wooohoooooo!!!! Point for Cyn!
He taught me that “Where there is a will, there is a way.” One of the biggest compliments, to my mind, that I ever received from my Dad was when I was around 19. He told me, “You know, at least I don’t have to worry too much about you honey, now that you’re grown. You are smart, and so determined and resourceful, I know that if you want something bad enough, that once you’ve put your mind to it, you won’t rest until you get it or achieve it. And if you don’t reach your goal, I know and you know that you gave it your everything and that there was not any other way left to you.” Man, that blew me away. Thinking about it, it still does blow me away. Awwww, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside now.
But, for all the strict disciplinarian ways, he was equally loving and giving. He never was too busy to teach something. To explain why, how, etc… I suppose some of it is from the fact that he spent part of his life as a teacher. He is definitely a natural educator, that is for sure.H taught every grade at least once except for Kindergarten and I think 3rd grade. Yes, he was also a college professor at both University of Southern California (USC) and University of Mississippi. When he decided that he could do more for the youth of America, he pooled his efforts into.. well, you know those damn bubble tests you took as kids in school every year? The national tests? With your No 2 pencil? Um, my Dad is partly to blame for that. Yeah, I know, I know. So anyway, back to my reminiscing. I learned to apply logic and reason to my everyday life at his knee. So well in fact, that sometimes I would leave him at a loss for words or an appropriate argument to refute whatever I was after. (eh, sound familiar Genuine?) heh.
I was always my Daddy’s shadow. ALWAYS. I mean, he couldn’t even shave in peace. I totally worshiped him. Still do actually. He is as funny as anything. A real crack up. And he was blessed with extra helpings of Irish charm too. He is also a natural salesman.. , which, coupled with his gorgeous looks (6’3, thick jet blue-black hair, laughing green eyes and a killer smile) and his charm and intelligence, explains his, ahem, problem with the ladies. Well, HE didn’t think it was a problem I’m sure!!
On the weekends, he would grab his toolbox and head off to the junkyard or “car graveyard” as he liked to call it. That is where I overcame my fear of the big dogs that guarded them. “They can smell your fear and will use it against you. Show them who is master. Be kind, talk in a soft voice. I’m not saying go hug them, but, don’t show your fear.” That is also where I learned about cars and stuff. I am, well, quite mechanically inclined. I understood from an early age how car engines worked. He and I would tinker around there for hours. Him calling for tools from the toolbox teaching me the difference between screwdrivers and different types of pliers and wrenches, etc... as I got older, he would take great joy when he had a car problem, taking me with him. And on the way asking me to look at what seemed to be wrong and give my opinion. He would then have me explain my theory to the poor hapless mechanic. One such instance was the timing chain. The car kept breaking down, and I said from the beginning I thought it was the timing chain. The mechanic unwisely blew my little 8 and a half year self off as a wise ass. Ok, well maybe I was a bit of a wise ass, but…. Anyway, the idiot said it was a hundred other things OTHER than the timing chain. Even though I had EXPLAINED my reasons for suspecting the damn timing chain. A few hundred bucks and 3 breakdowns later… and still the problem persisted. This ruined our whole freaking road trip to Graceland, just me and my daddy, which really pissed me off to no end. (Cause, I SO TOTALLY love the KING, the one and only ELVIS PRESLEY. Got it?) The car finally totally bit it in the middle of the damn highway in Jackson, Mississippi in the left turn lane pulling our 39 foot long Airstream. You’ve never seen so many pissed off people in your life. “Daddy, what does it mean when they stick this finger up at you shouting??” I never got to see Graceland and I had to fly home to Los Angeles, bummed. My dad called me later after I got home, about in 2 weeks and was laughing his ass off. Guess what was wrong with the car?
The FUCKING TIMING CHAIN.
Instead of ALL that money he spent on other things… a $15 timing chain. You can bet your last buck he went back to the original mechanic back in Ft. Lauderdale and rubbed it in his face. “You should have listened to MY DAUGHTER, a child that will be 9 years old in a few weeks, she knows more about cars than YOU DO!”. Heh. Dad loved doing things like that too. By the way, that road trip? I was the navigator. I had the maps and the highlighter pen. I had to figure out the most logical route to where we wanted to go across a few states. Dad’s orders. Even with all the breakdowns of the car.. it was still a great trip. Just me and Dad. Did I mention that my Dad would drive with his knees sometimes? On Cruise Control. (Although, it is MORE fun to watch him drive like that with my mom in the car freaking out!!) 8-track blaring. You know, to this day, every time I hear George Harrison’s “Here Comes The Sun” and “A Kind of Hush” by Herman’s Hermits, I think of that road trip. So much fun.
I have very early memories of my dad. Like from the time I was 2. When he would come home from work, I would get him a beer (cause I was too little to get him a scotch and water, ok? That was later). Budweiser. Mom would open it, and (shhh! Don’t tell. I would taste it to make sure it was ok on my way to him! Probably explains why I hate beer now!) He would sit in his recliner and pull me on his lap. At this time of my life, he had a handlebar moustache. He’d rest me on his stomach on my back with my toes facing his face, and would crack me up by kissing my toes, doing “Dis widdle piggy” then I would wiggle my toes in his moustache and make Him laugh. Both of us laughing like lunatics with my mom in the kitchen shaking her head at us, laughing too. This was the daily routine.
I always, always, until I was almost 4, would ride on my Dads shoulders, with fistfuls of his thick hair in my hands. Now remember, he’s 6’3! That is WAAAY high up. Many nights, as a result of his spinal surgery, the pain would keep him awake. It still does to this day. He would get the midnight munchies. I would hear him awake, and I would wake up. Sometimes, I would open my eyes, and find him sitting near my bed, watching me sleep. Off for a midnight snack! Up on his shoulders I would go for my ride through the house to the kitchen; ducking at the last moment to avoid getting brained by the doorways and light fixtures. There we would always make sandwiches for us…me on his shoulders issuing orders. Joking and chatting away. I still make killer sandwiches. Believe me or not, there is a fine art to the sandwich. It’s all about placement, you realize? Well it is. Trust me on this.
When I was with my Dad, I knew no harm could come to me. And if by some chance I had managed to do some injury to myself, he was there to fix it and dry my tears. One instance, we were on our way back from the beach. In florida, the bridges open up to allow ships to pass, and in one such instance, we got stuck and were parked. All of a sudden we were rear ended from behind. Next thing I knew, my dad was out of that car like a flash, at the drivers side door and yanking the laughing drunk teenage driver out of the car, physically, and shoving him up against the car all up in his face. (Ahem, Irish temper. Insert imagination here, please) Actually, I vaguely recall my dad shaking this probably 18 year old boy like a rag doll. Then he physically drug the guy back to our car and made him look at me. “You see my little daughter? If you’ve hurt her, you’ll wish your mother never birthed you. And he meant it too. Now the guy is terrified and apologizing up, down left right and center. Next thing I remember I’m at the pediatricians learning that I had a mild concussion. Everything else is kind of a blur after that. So much for a nice day at the beach!
I can still recall the little diner that overlooked the runway of Miami International Airport. We would go for breakfast just so I could watch the airplanes take off and land. Whenever he asked where I wanted to go for breakfast, that was my answer. Every time. I would be so happy just sitting there watching the planes. We would sit for hours and talk and watch the airplane traffic.
Another memory once just a shadow, now burned into my mind forever was brought back full force in the most horrible of ways On September 11, 2001. A trip to New York that had many purposes, when I was about 8. #1 an excuse to see my Nana. #2 to introduce my Nana and I to the wonderful lady that would become my stepmother. #3, for my Dad to show me New York., where he grew up. He took me sightseeing. I walked up the stairs inside the Statue of Liberty. And all the way back down. There are a lot of damn stairs. I still have a serious aversion to those tight black iron circular stairs. Shudder.
That was also the year that they finished construction on the Twin Towers. I thought they were beautiful, with so many pretty lights. So tall thrusting up into the night sky. Every night, my eyes would seek them out. My dad decided one night to take Naoemi (step mom) and I to dinner at Windows On The World in Trade Center Tower 1, I believe. I wanted to go, but I was so scared, cause it was so tall. At the time, the tallest building in the world. My Dad made me go. I am forever grateful he did. Memories that were once vague to me came crashing into my consciousness as I watched the tower burn that horrible day, then as I watched it collapse. As I heard it collapse. Yes, I heard it collapse. I was on the phone with my brother-in-law who lived fairly close to it. I was with him on the line as the second plane hit. I was with him when the buildings started collapsing. I heard it. And I heard the horror in his voice, describing to me what he saw from his windows. I will never forget it.
Later that night, as I watched it replayed on TV, I was, like everyone else, in a state of shock. I had been in those buildings when they were new. And now I remembered quite clearly the lobby ... the elevator rides… getting out and changing elevators to continue on up inside the massive building. Up to the very top. And I still remember, seeing the clouds floating by outside the windows. In the restaurant, along the inside of the windows all around the perimeter of it, was a metal railing. I was ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED to go near the windows. I was afraid I would fall. Yeah, you guessed it. He dragged me over, and held me up to the window so I could see the lights and overcome my fear. He held me up, on my knees on the railing and said in my ear “I’ve got you Friss, I won’t let you fall. Look out at the pretty lights from the highest building in the world” And I did. I could see lights as far as you could imagine seeing. All the beautiful lights of New York City and beyond. I looked down a little; to see the clouds, then back out again. He finally let me down when the food arrived at the table. I’m glad he made me go. And I’m glad he made me look out. It was such a beautiful sight. Shortly after 9/11, I called my Dad, and in a choked up voice, I thanked him. For taking me to see the Twins. For making me go inside, and for holding me up to that window. And do you know what he told me? In a voice full of tears, he said: “I was glad to do it honey. I was glad then, and even more so today, now that they are gone.” See, he immediately remembered that trip while watching the news unfold too.
I will always, for as long as I live, remember my Dad singing “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” to me just because, and the traditional Irish lullaby at night when he tucked me in “as snug as a bug in a rug”. Our goodbyes when we had to part from my earliest years.. “See ya later alligator”, and my reply “After while crocodile”.
Lee posted the other day about daddies and being “left out” of the equation, but that always isn’t the case. I wanted my Daddy for everything. Don’t get me wrong, I was and am, so very close to my Mama. But I know now that it hurt my Mom by always wanting Daddy to “fix it”.
But nothing can ever replace a Daddy. (Well unless you mess the kid up really badly psychologically I mean) Every man that enters your daughter’s life once she is grown will have to measure up to you, whether she realizes it or not, and most of them will probably come up wanting in her eyes. Your son, if you were a good role model, will want to emulate all the good things you taught him, by observation as well the things you taught him, as a man, and later as a husband and father to his own children.
So to all of you I say again… A very Happy Father’s Day to all of you.
See ya later alligators!
6/18/2004
A Nice Way To Spend An Evening
Last night I spent a pleasant few hours at Z’s cousins house last night. She is my very favorite of all his MANY MANY relatives. All her 9 brothers and sisters are very loving and kind to me. Hell, I wish his immediate family was THIS great! I like spending time with them almost every Thursday evening. Last night was particularly nice though.
Last night I had 3 children hanging off me aged 4, 14 months, and 3 months(Girl. Boy. Girl.) . And I loved every cotton-pickin minute of it too!
The first two are brother and sister. The little one is their cousin. Brother and sister were stuck like glue to me. The little boy kept crawling in my lap, one hand on my breast and the other fisted gently in my hair, smiling at me making cooing noises. Typical male. Hair and boobs. Sometimes he would rest his head on my chest, hand still in my hair, patting my breast like a cat. Sorry honey, no milk there! He was just being happy though.
Meanwhile, his sister was almost surgically attached to my left hip playing with my hair, twisting and trying to braid it and brushing it back from my face with her hands and hugging me and kissing my face. I kept grabbing her to me and giving her kisses. She always tells me “I love you” in her little scratchy raspy Demi Moore voice. The baby girl was on her moms lap on my right staring transfixedly at me the whole time and grabbing my sleeve in her little chubby fist while drooling on her teething ring.
The whole time everyone kept remarking to each other-over and over: “Look at that! Look how children of all ages are with her!! Look how children love her. The baby doesn’t like ANYONE these days! Then my favorite cousin said, exasperated, “Of course they love her and are drawn to her. They sense that she loves them, and they love her right back! She draws children to her like bees to honey.” WOW! Thanks.
I wish I could draw one to my womb as easily.
When time came to leave, brother and sister were both not letting me go. After 5 minutes of hugs and kisses from me, they finally let me leave.
Truth be told, I was loath to go.
******************************************************
Happy Comfort
Today I passed some time in the comfort of a local bookstore.
Yeah, comfort. I love books. I love the smell of a bookstore. Have you ever paid attention to the smell of a bookstore lately? The new paper.. the ink.. the combination of it. They don’t have “proper” bookstores like back home in America that is for SURE, but still, I get my “fix”. So I wandered around the bookstore... looking through the different kinds.. just inhaling the familiar smells and enjoying myself.
Don’t believe me? Well, when I moved here.. I shipped over 350 of my favorite books here. This was after I had to force myself to sell about 200 of the ones I had before the move at a garage sale.
I am a voracious reader. I have been from as long as I can remember. Both my parents encouraged me to read from very early. This could also be due to the fact that at the time my Dad worked for Random House in the child products development division (which encompassed the textbooks section too) and some other things. I got the best of the freebies and I guess I was a guinea pig for some of his projects too. God, the memories of the damn school textbooks he used to make me work through still make me shudder! Anyway, I had loads of books even then.
As I got older my love of books grew. My reading was so advanced that when I was in second grade they put me in a special class.. for speed reading..
From the time I was around 10… particularly during the summer while mom was at work and I was at home, I would get on my bike with my hoarded allowance and ride to my favorite bookstore. I would buy 2 or 3 books to last me for the next couple of days. I would ride home as fast as I could pedal... long (then) golden blond hair streaming in the breeze, happy as anything. Into the house and PLOP! on my bed in front of the cooling breeze of the oscillating fan. I would read one 200+ page book a day, so engrossed I couldn’t put it down. Sometimes two. My Nana had recently gone and gotten me hooked on Nancy Drew books by giving me my first one. That summer I bought and read every single Nancy Drew book in print. All 68 of them! Even then and in the following years … I would read all sorts of things: encyclopedias, medical and health books… history books… you name it!
Even now as an adult, I have been known to spend a few hours happily wandering in a bookstore. Heh. And not just wandering, either; filling my shopping basket as well! And. I. Mean. Filling. Hardcover, paperback. All genres. Particularly fiction, History (All early history from Early Medieval through to the Victorian era) Castle and hill-fort construction, Autobiographies and historical romance. Well-written Fiction really appeals to me because a person created it from thin air, and that is some accomplishment in my book. It takes real creativity. I’m a sucker for nice cookbooks too.
When I read… I am completely immersed in the story. It is still one of my favorite ways to pass time. I will still drag books around with me. To the doctor for my typical long waiting room wait (except for wand monkey & IVF appointements, cause I’m too antsy). In an airport, on a plane. When I go pick up Arianna from school and know there will be a wait in the parking lot until the gates are opened. In the late night hours when my insomnia hits me full force… I have my books. When I’m hospitalized so very frequently… books save me from cabin fever. One of my favorite reading spots though has to be in a nice bubble bath. I love relaxing in a bubble bath with a good book.
I prefer to read than to watch TV actually. Don't get me wrong.. I like TV and movies as much as the next person and am easily hooked on a good program. But if given a choice... a book, anytime.
The best thing? My child loves books too. When she says the infernal "I'm bored!" I tell her.. "you can never be bored when you have a book to pick up. Go read if you are bored and have time on your hands".
And you know what? She does. It's a great feeling when I find her stretched out on her daybed reading a book.(Usually Harry Potter books)
My dream is to have a study... with a wall of floor to ceiling bookshelves. PACKED TO THE GILLS, naturally. One day I will have it.
See if I don't!
Last night I spent a pleasant few hours at Z’s cousins house last night. She is my very favorite of all his MANY MANY relatives. All her 9 brothers and sisters are very loving and kind to me. Hell, I wish his immediate family was THIS great! I like spending time with them almost every Thursday evening. Last night was particularly nice though.
Last night I had 3 children hanging off me aged 4, 14 months, and 3 months(Girl. Boy. Girl.) . And I loved every cotton-pickin minute of it too!
The first two are brother and sister. The little one is their cousin. Brother and sister were stuck like glue to me. The little boy kept crawling in my lap, one hand on my breast and the other fisted gently in my hair, smiling at me making cooing noises. Typical male. Hair and boobs. Sometimes he would rest his head on my chest, hand still in my hair, patting my breast like a cat. Sorry honey, no milk there! He was just being happy though.
Meanwhile, his sister was almost surgically attached to my left hip playing with my hair, twisting and trying to braid it and brushing it back from my face with her hands and hugging me and kissing my face. I kept grabbing her to me and giving her kisses. She always tells me “I love you” in her little scratchy raspy Demi Moore voice. The baby girl was on her moms lap on my right staring transfixedly at me the whole time and grabbing my sleeve in her little chubby fist while drooling on her teething ring.
The whole time everyone kept remarking to each other-over and over: “Look at that! Look how children of all ages are with her!! Look how children love her. The baby doesn’t like ANYONE these days! Then my favorite cousin said, exasperated, “Of course they love her and are drawn to her. They sense that she loves them, and they love her right back! She draws children to her like bees to honey.” WOW! Thanks.
I wish I could draw one to my womb as easily.
When time came to leave, brother and sister were both not letting me go. After 5 minutes of hugs and kisses from me, they finally let me leave.
Truth be told, I was loath to go.
******************************************************
Happy Comfort
Today I passed some time in the comfort of a local bookstore.
Yeah, comfort. I love books. I love the smell of a bookstore. Have you ever paid attention to the smell of a bookstore lately? The new paper.. the ink.. the combination of it. They don’t have “proper” bookstores like back home in America that is for SURE, but still, I get my “fix”. So I wandered around the bookstore... looking through the different kinds.. just inhaling the familiar smells and enjoying myself.
Don’t believe me? Well, when I moved here.. I shipped over 350 of my favorite books here. This was after I had to force myself to sell about 200 of the ones I had before the move at a garage sale.
I am a voracious reader. I have been from as long as I can remember. Both my parents encouraged me to read from very early. This could also be due to the fact that at the time my Dad worked for Random House in the child products development division (which encompassed the textbooks section too) and some other things. I got the best of the freebies and I guess I was a guinea pig for some of his projects too. God, the memories of the damn school textbooks he used to make me work through still make me shudder! Anyway, I had loads of books even then.
As I got older my love of books grew. My reading was so advanced that when I was in second grade they put me in a special class.. for speed reading..
From the time I was around 10… particularly during the summer while mom was at work and I was at home, I would get on my bike with my hoarded allowance and ride to my favorite bookstore. I would buy 2 or 3 books to last me for the next couple of days. I would ride home as fast as I could pedal... long (then) golden blond hair streaming in the breeze, happy as anything. Into the house and PLOP! on my bed in front of the cooling breeze of the oscillating fan. I would read one 200+ page book a day, so engrossed I couldn’t put it down. Sometimes two. My Nana had recently gone and gotten me hooked on Nancy Drew books by giving me my first one. That summer I bought and read every single Nancy Drew book in print. All 68 of them! Even then and in the following years … I would read all sorts of things: encyclopedias, medical and health books… history books… you name it!
Even now as an adult, I have been known to spend a few hours happily wandering in a bookstore. Heh. And not just wandering, either; filling my shopping basket as well! And. I. Mean. Filling. Hardcover, paperback. All genres. Particularly fiction, History (All early history from Early Medieval through to the Victorian era) Castle and hill-fort construction, Autobiographies and historical romance. Well-written Fiction really appeals to me because a person created it from thin air, and that is some accomplishment in my book. It takes real creativity. I’m a sucker for nice cookbooks too.
When I read… I am completely immersed in the story. It is still one of my favorite ways to pass time. I will still drag books around with me. To the doctor for my typical long waiting room wait (except for wand monkey & IVF appointements, cause I’m too antsy). In an airport, on a plane. When I go pick up Arianna from school and know there will be a wait in the parking lot until the gates are opened. In the late night hours when my insomnia hits me full force… I have my books. When I’m hospitalized so very frequently… books save me from cabin fever. One of my favorite reading spots though has to be in a nice bubble bath. I love relaxing in a bubble bath with a good book.
I prefer to read than to watch TV actually. Don't get me wrong.. I like TV and movies as much as the next person and am easily hooked on a good program. But if given a choice... a book, anytime.
The best thing? My child loves books too. When she says the infernal "I'm bored!" I tell her.. "you can never be bored when you have a book to pick up. Go read if you are bored and have time on your hands".
And you know what? She does. It's a great feeling when I find her stretched out on her daybed reading a book.(Usually Harry Potter books)
My dream is to have a study... with a wall of floor to ceiling bookshelves. PACKED TO THE GILLS, naturally. One day I will have it.
See if I don't!
6/15/2004
HEH. Wasn't I Something Else?
I finally confessed to my mom about my failed IVf's the other day in an email. WHAT?? I can't afford that kind of international phone call! She is so funny. I knew that she knew(sensed).. somehow.. cause she is like that (trust me, it was a pain in the ass when I would try and get away with stuff growing up and she knew already what I'd done!)
I know where Arianna gets her precociousness(now), but honestly, she has to make a lot of effort to reach MY level!!
I've already related how I undestand how Arianna feels about getting a baby brother or sister, cause I was the same if not worse because I would harp on it almost daily, I seem to remember, from the time I was about, oh, 3.
Mom related this story to me in her email reply today, and I thought you guys would enjoy it. I know I chuckled.(She was engaged to Thurman, an American Indian guy-see 100 things about me,the whole Indian Reservation thing- and we had a mutual dislike of each other):
"I remember you talked to me when you were about ten yrs of age and I was engaged, yet couldn't get past the shivers and nerves or picking out a gown, or a diamond- saw lots of bracelets I liked though!!!! ha ha. You wanted a real baby brother or sister and you suggested that I call your Dad to come to CA. from Fla. and "take care of business" and then he could go back home to Noemi (my stepmother) and everything would be fine. I couldn't believe a ten year old child could be thinking in "business terms" on such matters. (Yeah, knowing you, I could!) right......... ha ha ha."
Yeah, there are so many stories I could tell you guys... I was employing logic in my earliest theories and "discussions" with adults.. much in the same manner of Genuine's little Princess. (She's a hoot and so adorable!)I would frequently leave most adults in my vicinity gasping for air like a fish out of water, at a complete loss for words.
Come to think of it, I still do get that reaction sometimes. Oh good! Glad to know I haven't lost my touch! Heh. *Genuine shakes head and flinches..repeatedly* (yes, look what you are in for when Princess is grown!)
I could tell you things that would make you pee yourself, and make me turn twenty shades of red. My logic was astounding sometimes, although never intentionally cruel. Well shit.
For instance...
I was about.. 3 or 4, and I was in the grocery store with my Mom and apparently wanted some Entemann's pastries. Mom refused to get some. Did I resort to the whine of a small child? No. Instead I calmly asked the infernal "Well, why?" to which she responded..."Because it will make us fat." (Biiiig MISTAKE MAMA!) I looked at her (my Mom always had a killer figure.. she was so paranoid!)looked around, and, certain that I had a superior "argument" stated in a LOUD and CLEAR voice:
"Well, you aren't fat Mama! THOSE two big ladies aren't worried about it! Look how much Entemann's they are putting in THEIR cart??" Needless to say... she tossed the neares Entemann's box she could reach into the cart and ran!
Guileless, completely guileless.
Actually, this has come back to haunt me, proof that Karma can be a bitch. I can't even look at Entemann's without gaining weight! At the risk of sounding like a little politically incorrect kid, I will refrain from telling you my Monkey Jungle misadventure.
I finally confessed to my mom about my failed IVf's the other day in an email. WHAT?? I can't afford that kind of international phone call! She is so funny. I knew that she knew(sensed).. somehow.. cause she is like that (trust me, it was a pain in the ass when I would try and get away with stuff growing up and she knew already what I'd done!)
I know where Arianna gets her precociousness(now), but honestly, she has to make a lot of effort to reach MY level!!
I've already related how I undestand how Arianna feels about getting a baby brother or sister, cause I was the same if not worse because I would harp on it almost daily, I seem to remember, from the time I was about, oh, 3.
Mom related this story to me in her email reply today, and I thought you guys would enjoy it. I know I chuckled.(She was engaged to Thurman, an American Indian guy-see 100 things about me,the whole Indian Reservation thing- and we had a mutual dislike of each other):
"I remember you talked to me when you were about ten yrs of age and I was engaged, yet couldn't get past the shivers and nerves or picking out a gown, or a diamond- saw lots of bracelets I liked though!!!! ha ha. You wanted a real baby brother or sister and you suggested that I call your Dad to come to CA. from Fla. and "take care of business" and then he could go back home to Noemi (my stepmother) and everything would be fine. I couldn't believe a ten year old child could be thinking in "business terms" on such matters. (Yeah, knowing you, I could!) right......... ha ha ha."
Yeah, there are so many stories I could tell you guys... I was employing logic in my earliest theories and "discussions" with adults.. much in the same manner of Genuine's little Princess. (She's a hoot and so adorable!)I would frequently leave most adults in my vicinity gasping for air like a fish out of water, at a complete loss for words.
Come to think of it, I still do get that reaction sometimes. Oh good! Glad to know I haven't lost my touch! Heh. *Genuine shakes head and flinches..repeatedly* (yes, look what you are in for when Princess is grown!)
I could tell you things that would make you pee yourself, and make me turn twenty shades of red. My logic was astounding sometimes, although never intentionally cruel. Well shit.
For instance...
I was about.. 3 or 4, and I was in the grocery store with my Mom and apparently wanted some Entemann's pastries. Mom refused to get some. Did I resort to the whine of a small child? No. Instead I calmly asked the infernal "Well, why?" to which she responded..."Because it will make us fat." (Biiiig MISTAKE MAMA!) I looked at her (my Mom always had a killer figure.. she was so paranoid!)looked around, and, certain that I had a superior "argument" stated in a LOUD and CLEAR voice:
"Well, you aren't fat Mama! THOSE two big ladies aren't worried about it! Look how much Entemann's they are putting in THEIR cart??" Needless to say... she tossed the neares Entemann's box she could reach into the cart and ran!
Guileless, completely guileless.
Actually, this has come back to haunt me, proof that Karma can be a bitch. I can't even look at Entemann's without gaining weight! At the risk of sounding like a little politically incorrect kid, I will refrain from telling you my Monkey Jungle misadventure.
6/14/2004
Curiosity Killed The Cat
Meoooooooooooooooowwwwww!!!!
I have an appointment tomorrow with that IVF specialist Professor woman from Germany I mentioned earlier (when the IVF cycle was cancelled). Tomorrow at 3:30.
Why the hell am I so bloody nervous?
Maybe I'm afraid of what she will say. I'm seeing her at the advice of Wand Monkey and while I know his main reasons for suggesting the consultation with her:1: For me to get YET another opinion 2:To make some extra money for the hospital and IVF Clinic and 3: To shut me the hell up. BTW, for #3?? Yeaaah, RIGHT it will shut me up! Heh. Bottom line is, I'm going to see her because to me, Wand Monkey's explaination of "I don't know why it didn't work" combined with a shrug of his shoulders doesn't fly with me. It's unacceptable. Hell, I would have been happy with an educated guess, a theory, a hunch, a vision he had in a dream on his lunch break... ANYTHING but him shaking his damn head at me looking just as confused as I was (am).
I'm hoping for some answers. Suggestions-ok, other than ovarian drilling- cause that freaks me way the hell out. Uh, no. Drill? Inside? Me? Taking out pieces of my reproductive organs? Uh, HELL NO. For it to come back in 6 months? Awwww HELLLLLL NO. That piece of brilliance was Wand Monkey's suggestion... again, I get the feeling just to shut me up. Asshat.
You know what I'm REALLY hoping she will say (in front of Wand Monkey)?? That the suggestions I made were right. You know, the suggestions, simple things really, that he blew off, were worthy of at least minute consideration, because to my mind, obviously, something is being overlooked round here. For the record, I asked repeatedly the following of him .. you know, what do you think? or Do you think I should??"
1: Take Metformin (Glucophage) for a few months before trying another cycle (I mean, all the damn studies I've read have found this to be highly beneficial particulary in women with PCOS, like me.) Also, there is the TEENSY little fact that I GOT PREGNANT in 1999 by doing this and only taking some Clomid tablets orally (Ok, mega doses of 250mg a day for 5 days, but still!)only, no IVF,erm. just... nookie and lots of it on the right day of the cycle. So considering that it worked in the past for me... WHY THE HELL NOT??? Fine.
2: Take Folic Acid in the months leading up to a cycle. (He said NO. Actually, not even during the IVF cycle...which was weird to me.)
If she says any of these things to me tomorrow, you just KNOW I'm gonna smirk at him and say, "Well, I suggested this to HIM several times, but HE said no." Think I won't say it?
The HELL I won't!
Don't worry, I'll make a report to you all tomorrow.
Meoooooooooooooooowwwwww!!!!
I have an appointment tomorrow with that IVF specialist Professor woman from Germany I mentioned earlier (when the IVF cycle was cancelled). Tomorrow at 3:30.
Why the hell am I so bloody nervous?
Maybe I'm afraid of what she will say. I'm seeing her at the advice of Wand Monkey and while I know his main reasons for suggesting the consultation with her:1: For me to get YET another opinion 2:To make some extra money for the hospital and IVF Clinic and 3: To shut me the hell up. BTW, for #3?? Yeaaah, RIGHT it will shut me up! Heh. Bottom line is, I'm going to see her because to me, Wand Monkey's explaination of "I don't know why it didn't work" combined with a shrug of his shoulders doesn't fly with me. It's unacceptable. Hell, I would have been happy with an educated guess, a theory, a hunch, a vision he had in a dream on his lunch break... ANYTHING but him shaking his damn head at me looking just as confused as I was (am).
I'm hoping for some answers. Suggestions-ok, other than ovarian drilling- cause that freaks me way the hell out. Uh, no. Drill? Inside? Me? Taking out pieces of my reproductive organs? Uh, HELL NO. For it to come back in 6 months? Awwww HELLLLLL NO. That piece of brilliance was Wand Monkey's suggestion... again, I get the feeling just to shut me up. Asshat.
You know what I'm REALLY hoping she will say (in front of Wand Monkey)?? That the suggestions I made were right. You know, the suggestions, simple things really, that he blew off, were worthy of at least minute consideration, because to my mind, obviously, something is being overlooked round here. For the record, I asked repeatedly the following of him .. you know, what do you think? or Do you think I should??"
1: Take Metformin (Glucophage) for a few months before trying another cycle (I mean, all the damn studies I've read have found this to be highly beneficial particulary in women with PCOS, like me.) Also, there is the TEENSY little fact that I GOT PREGNANT in 1999 by doing this and only taking some Clomid tablets orally (Ok, mega doses of 250mg a day for 5 days, but still!)only, no IVF,erm. just... nookie and lots of it on the right day of the cycle. So considering that it worked in the past for me... WHY THE HELL NOT??? Fine.
2: Take Folic Acid in the months leading up to a cycle. (He said NO. Actually, not even during the IVF cycle...which was weird to me.)
If she says any of these things to me tomorrow, you just KNOW I'm gonna smirk at him and say, "Well, I suggested this to HIM several times, but HE said no." Think I won't say it?
The HELL I won't!
Don't worry, I'll make a report to you all tomorrow.
Think It's Accurate??
Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com
Luscious? Heh. I love that. Cool. Luscious............ heh.....
| S | Spiritual |
| C | Comical |
| A | Astonishing |
| R | Raw |
| L | Luscious |
| E | Exquisite |
| T | Trustworthy |
| T | Talented |
| C | Charming |
| Y | Young |
| N | Neglected |
Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com
Luscious? Heh. I love that. Cool. Luscious............ heh.....
6/13/2004
So Damn Typical!!
OM MY GOD!!!!!
This is so hilarious! Z and I were just sitting on the sofa JUST NOW... and he was talking to his mother..the conversation lapsed into silence, and then, very quietly, very seriously, he looked at her and said:
"Cyn is going home to America. By herself." Just like that. For once I was looking straight at her face when he said it.
Lordy!!! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE JOY SUFFUSE HER FACE!!!!!!!!! She looked so.... HAPPY!!!shocked. Like someone just said to her, "oh, and by the way, here is 10 million dollars TAX FREE". She said "REALLY????????? When?"" with a big ole ear to ear grin. She kept smiling and saying "You're going? Really? Really?" So I said simply, "Yes."
Of course my evil husband made her wait a few minutes,watching her do her little jumping in place. Quite frankly, I was surprised that he announced it. I had no warning. Then he said.. " She's only going for a visit to her parents for a few weeks."
Heh. Then I got to watch her face fall. (Psyche! I'll just take that 10 million back now!) She got all happy for nothing. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER TRY TO HIDE HER disappointment..DISAPPOINTMENT THAT I WAS COMING BACK."
Then guess what doofus... I mean my darling husband said to his mama? "You wanna fly back with her?" WTF????????? (He MUST be smoking crack!)I looked at him and said "I'M FLYING TO MIAMI FIRST TO SEE MY DAD!" (ie: nowhere NEAR where she has family)
She left the room... and I was sitting there... Z looked at me, I looked at him.... and we both started cracking up. He said "DID you see her FACE???" BWAAAAAHAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA I said "you got her hopes up! She looked like her dream just came true!" We both collapsed into hysterical laughter...and he looked at me and said "you are going to post this on your blog now, aren't you?"
You bet your ass I am!! *Cyn runs from the living room*
But apparently she is STILL happy she's getting rid of my butt for a while.. cause as I sit here typing... I can hear her on the phone down the hall spreading the joy to her offspring.
**************************
~Update~
I'm Not Laughing Now.
Ok, NOW I'M PISSED!!!
Apparently while I was occupied writing the above post, Monster snuck back in the living room to start her usual crap. FORTUNATELY I didn't hear it myself.
It seems she slithered up to her son, my husband, and asked... "Is she REALLY going to America?" and he said "Yes." Now get THIS: Next thing past the forked tongue was: "She isn't taking Arianna with her, is she? You aren't letting her?" (WTF???? LETTING HER?) *steam starts boiling and shooting from my ears* Z said " Arianna is staying here because Cyn doesn't want her to miss so much school , plus it's the beginning of the year." Monster:" Well, you shouldn't let her take her..., you know.. she might..." He repeated the school reason again.
*Head spins with flames shooting out of my ears and nostrils* At this point, my Irish temper, which doesn't all that often really pop out... is near release.
Wisely, he recounted this to me, in the car... where I proceded to inform him that this time I'm not taking her.. but next time I AM.
Unfortunately he told me in the car. Because I would have really liked to make the following comments where she could hear them clearly.
1) If I wanted to take my daughter anywhere with me, there is NOTHING she can do to get in my way. Cumon, try me. I'd really like to see her try.
2) But the hell out, it isn't your concern.
3) What makes her insinuate that I might run off with her? Trust me, if I was leaving... I'd throw a damn farewell party, and ship ALL my belongings.. not scurry off in the middle of the night.
4) LET ME TAKE HER?? HAH! LET ME TAKE HER? If I wanted to "take off" with her, there is a lovely Blue American passport for Arianna in MY POSESSION and all I would have to do is take a nice 10 minute drive to the embassy, park my car, and walk through the gate. Any questions?
But you know what pissed me off the most? That he didn't say ANYTHING in my defense. Not one damn word.
Figures.
OM MY GOD!!!!!
This is so hilarious! Z and I were just sitting on the sofa JUST NOW... and he was talking to his mother..the conversation lapsed into silence, and then, very quietly, very seriously, he looked at her and said:
"Cyn is going home to America. By herself." Just like that. For once I was looking straight at her face when he said it.
Lordy!!! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE JOY SUFFUSE HER FACE!!!!!!!!! She looked so.... HAPPY!!!shocked. Like someone just said to her, "oh, and by the way, here is 10 million dollars TAX FREE". She said "REALLY????????? When?"" with a big ole ear to ear grin. She kept smiling and saying "You're going? Really? Really?" So I said simply, "Yes."
Of course my evil husband made her wait a few minutes,watching her do her little jumping in place. Quite frankly, I was surprised that he announced it. I had no warning. Then he said.. " She's only going for a visit to her parents for a few weeks."
Heh. Then I got to watch her face fall. (Psyche! I'll just take that 10 million back now!) She got all happy for nothing. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER TRY TO HIDE HER disappointment..DISAPPOINTMENT THAT I WAS COMING BACK."
Then guess what doofus... I mean my darling husband said to his mama? "You wanna fly back with her?" WTF????????? (He MUST be smoking crack!)I looked at him and said "I'M FLYING TO MIAMI FIRST TO SEE MY DAD!" (ie: nowhere NEAR where she has family)
She left the room... and I was sitting there... Z looked at me, I looked at him.... and we both started cracking up. He said "DID you see her FACE???" BWAAAAAHAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA I said "you got her hopes up! She looked like her dream just came true!" We both collapsed into hysterical laughter...and he looked at me and said "you are going to post this on your blog now, aren't you?"
You bet your ass I am!! *Cyn runs from the living room*
But apparently she is STILL happy she's getting rid of my butt for a while.. cause as I sit here typing... I can hear her on the phone down the hall spreading the joy to her offspring.
**************************
~Update~
I'm Not Laughing Now.
Ok, NOW I'M PISSED!!!
Apparently while I was occupied writing the above post, Monster snuck back in the living room to start her usual crap. FORTUNATELY I didn't hear it myself.
It seems she slithered up to her son, my husband, and asked... "Is she REALLY going to America?" and he said "Yes." Now get THIS: Next thing past the forked tongue was: "She isn't taking Arianna with her, is she? You aren't letting her?" (WTF???? LETTING HER?) *steam starts boiling and shooting from my ears* Z said " Arianna is staying here because Cyn doesn't want her to miss so much school , plus it's the beginning of the year." Monster:" Well, you shouldn't let her take her..., you know.. she might..." He repeated the school reason again.
*Head spins with flames shooting out of my ears and nostrils* At this point, my Irish temper, which doesn't all that often really pop out... is near release.
Wisely, he recounted this to me, in the car... where I proceded to inform him that this time I'm not taking her.. but next time I AM.
Unfortunately he told me in the car. Because I would have really liked to make the following comments where she could hear them clearly.
1) If I wanted to take my daughter anywhere with me, there is NOTHING she can do to get in my way. Cumon, try me. I'd really like to see her try.
2) But the hell out, it isn't your concern.
3) What makes her insinuate that I might run off with her? Trust me, if I was leaving... I'd throw a damn farewell party, and ship ALL my belongings.. not scurry off in the middle of the night.
4) LET ME TAKE HER?? HAH! LET ME TAKE HER? If I wanted to "take off" with her, there is a lovely Blue American passport for Arianna in MY POSESSION and all I would have to do is take a nice 10 minute drive to the embassy, park my car, and walk through the gate. Any questions?
But you know what pissed me off the most? That he didn't say ANYTHING in my defense. Not one damn word.
Figures.
Just Call Me Aphrodite!!
Aphrodite/Eros
?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla
Yeah, this is SO me. Goddess of LOOOOOVE!!!!!!!!!
Who loves ya baby?? MWAH!!
Aphrodite/Eros
?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla
Yeah, this is SO me. Goddess of LOOOOOVE!!!!!!!!!
Who loves ya baby?? MWAH!!
6/12/2004
Cease Fire
Honestly, that is the most accurate way to describe it.
I had yet another talk with Arianna today. She was more... approachable. I explained to her, yet again, that I understand completely how she feels, that I felt the same way growing up.
I looked her straight in the eyes and explained that I am not a quitter, and that I'm not giving up, so for her not to give up also. That I will keep on trying until the day the doctors tell me that it is 100% impossible to try anymore because I want a baby as badly if not more so than she wants a little brother or sister. I told her that I need her support and faith. She understood that. Then I explained that I understand her frustration, that I too am frustrated, but that her lashing out at me and the snide comments doesn't help things any, and that it really hurts me. It doesn't accomplish anything and quite frankly, she knows that this kind of behaviour is and has always been unacceptable with me.
So, we have called a truce. Kissed and made up. She knows that she is my life... the very best thing I have done with my existance to date. But more importantly, she realizes that I have made my promise to her... given my word that I won't give up until there is no chance left for me. Arianna knows that I don't make promises lightly, that I don't lie once my word is given... so, it will just take her learning a bit of patience. And to my mind, that's all to the good for her.
To my dear friends from blogworld... your virtual hugs support and caring mean so very much to me. I just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.
MWAAAH!
Hopefully I'll be able to repay you all with a funny post in the next few days to lighten all our moods.
Honestly, that is the most accurate way to describe it.
I had yet another talk with Arianna today. She was more... approachable. I explained to her, yet again, that I understand completely how she feels, that I felt the same way growing up.
I looked her straight in the eyes and explained that I am not a quitter, and that I'm not giving up, so for her not to give up also. That I will keep on trying until the day the doctors tell me that it is 100% impossible to try anymore because I want a baby as badly if not more so than she wants a little brother or sister. I told her that I need her support and faith. She understood that. Then I explained that I understand her frustration, that I too am frustrated, but that her lashing out at me and the snide comments doesn't help things any, and that it really hurts me. It doesn't accomplish anything and quite frankly, she knows that this kind of behaviour is and has always been unacceptable with me.
So, we have called a truce. Kissed and made up. She knows that she is my life... the very best thing I have done with my existance to date. But more importantly, she realizes that I have made my promise to her... given my word that I won't give up until there is no chance left for me. Arianna knows that I don't make promises lightly, that I don't lie once my word is given... so, it will just take her learning a bit of patience. And to my mind, that's all to the good for her.
To my dear friends from blogworld... your virtual hugs support and caring mean so very much to me. I just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.
MWAAAH!
Hopefully I'll be able to repay you all with a funny post in the next few days to lighten all our moods.
6/11/2004
Drawn and Quartered
Yes, I am apparently in the process of being disemboweled..... by my daughter. Or, maybe it's that I think that being disembowled would be infinetly less painful as opposed to what SHE is putting me through.
This infertility thing is REALLY beginnng to piss me off.
Picture me, getting ready to take her out for a day today... lunch.. Harry Potter Film.. a nice day, minding my own business... when she "attacked me" again. But this time.. well, this time was different.
Please don't ask me what the HELL brought this on, cause I haven't the foggiest idea. All I know is she comes and SHOUTS at me...furious... "I WANT A BABY BROTHER AND YOU WON"T GIVE ME ONE!!!" *Cyn reels from ambush* "Whaaaa??" So, since I'm obviously DEAF, she said it again... louder, more like a roar.
Once I regained my wits, I warned her in my deadliest tone to watch her tone of voice... as I wailed..."Im trying!!!" Conversation was as follows:
C: "IM TRYING!!! I REALLY AM!"
A: No! You obviously aren't trying hard enough!!!
C: "Yes, I am! You don't KNOW how hard Im trying!! "
A: "HAH!!! IF so then why aren't you having one yet??"
C: *sputtering*, "Um,I...don't.... know. I wish I knew"
A: (lethal tone) "Well, you obviously aren't trying hard enough, cause you still aren't gonna have a baby."
C: (trying to hold back tears)"I;m really trying hard. I don't know why it's not working.. I don't know why...."
A: "You just don't want another baby bad enough proabaly"
C: "Arianna! That is ENOUGH! I'm trying my hardest... no one could try harder than me! Why don't YOU pray to God, maybe he will listen to your prayers better."
Then I shut the bedroom door on her..devastated and feeling the tears start to overflow my eyes. She isn't asking me anything I haven't asked myself a thousand times over.
I don't know why it is bothering her more than usual... maybe because all her cousins are pregnant or having babies.. I know she is jealous of the fact that her cousin had THREE at ONCE. So I guess next to that, I must seem spectacularly incompitant. She is being extremely hostile towards me also lately. In public even. Yesterday in a bookstore, she verbally attacked me in a REALLY LOUD VOICE. The whole damn store got silent and all heads turned in my directon. Just my damn luck, an older American couple were standing next to me.. I was SO humilated... my hand itched to slap her, but I didn't... Instead I yanked her by the arm silently and drug her out of the store hissing at her "DON"T YOU DARE DISRESPECT ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN, DO YOU HEAR ME?". Z came out later and said, "everyone was commenting on it and staring.. and the American lady told her husband, "Oh SOMEONES GONNA GET IT NOW>". I just took her home. She acted up again in the Harry Potter movie today also. I suppose i've failed her.
But God how it hurts me. As if I don't feel like a big enough failure already. As if I don't constantly wonder why the first three times didn't work. As if Im really not wondering WHY THE HELL I didn't respond properly to the medicine on this last, 4th round?
I wish Arianna had the BALLS to say these things around her father. He so far refuses to talk much about anything with me about it. There are things we need to discuss .. to talk about for another cycle.. but.. nothing. It seems as though.. I don't know.. as if maybe he feels like it's not worth talking about, judging from the few comments he HAS made.
Since he isn't talking, communicating about trying again, since he hasn't even paid the clinic/hospital for the portion of the package we DID use before I got cancelled, how can I think about trying again?
So instead I plan on my private trip home in October.. which is the ONLY time he mentions another IVF, when I mention how excited I am to see my Mom and Dad and my friends. He says "Maybe you'll be pregant then and can't go". I said, "How? You don't seem to want to talk about another try." Then he becomes silent again.
Dammned if I do, and damned if I don't.
Yes, I am apparently in the process of being disemboweled..... by my daughter. Or, maybe it's that I think that being disembowled would be infinetly less painful as opposed to what SHE is putting me through.
This infertility thing is REALLY beginnng to piss me off.
Picture me, getting ready to take her out for a day today... lunch.. Harry Potter Film.. a nice day, minding my own business... when she "attacked me" again. But this time.. well, this time was different.
Please don't ask me what the HELL brought this on, cause I haven't the foggiest idea. All I know is she comes and SHOUTS at me...furious... "I WANT A BABY BROTHER AND YOU WON"T GIVE ME ONE!!!" *Cyn reels from ambush* "Whaaaa??" So, since I'm obviously DEAF, she said it again... louder, more like a roar.
Once I regained my wits, I warned her in my deadliest tone to watch her tone of voice... as I wailed..."Im trying!!!" Conversation was as follows:
C: "IM TRYING!!! I REALLY AM!"
A: No! You obviously aren't trying hard enough!!!
C: "Yes, I am! You don't KNOW how hard Im trying!! "
A: "HAH!!! IF so then why aren't you having one yet??"
C: *sputtering*, "Um,I...don't.... know. I wish I knew"
A: (lethal tone) "Well, you obviously aren't trying hard enough, cause you still aren't gonna have a baby."
C: (trying to hold back tears)"I;m really trying hard. I don't know why it's not working.. I don't know why...."
A: "You just don't want another baby bad enough proabaly"
C: "Arianna! That is ENOUGH! I'm trying my hardest... no one could try harder than me! Why don't YOU pray to God, maybe he will listen to your prayers better."
Then I shut the bedroom door on her..devastated and feeling the tears start to overflow my eyes. She isn't asking me anything I haven't asked myself a thousand times over.
I don't know why it is bothering her more than usual... maybe because all her cousins are pregnant or having babies.. I know she is jealous of the fact that her cousin had THREE at ONCE. So I guess next to that, I must seem spectacularly incompitant. She is being extremely hostile towards me also lately. In public even. Yesterday in a bookstore, she verbally attacked me in a REALLY LOUD VOICE. The whole damn store got silent and all heads turned in my directon. Just my damn luck, an older American couple were standing next to me.. I was SO humilated... my hand itched to slap her, but I didn't... Instead I yanked her by the arm silently and drug her out of the store hissing at her "DON"T YOU DARE DISRESPECT ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN, DO YOU HEAR ME?". Z came out later and said, "everyone was commenting on it and staring.. and the American lady told her husband, "Oh SOMEONES GONNA GET IT NOW>". I just took her home. She acted up again in the Harry Potter movie today also. I suppose i've failed her.
But God how it hurts me. As if I don't feel like a big enough failure already. As if I don't constantly wonder why the first three times didn't work. As if Im really not wondering WHY THE HELL I didn't respond properly to the medicine on this last, 4th round?
I wish Arianna had the BALLS to say these things around her father. He so far refuses to talk much about anything with me about it. There are things we need to discuss .. to talk about for another cycle.. but.. nothing. It seems as though.. I don't know.. as if maybe he feels like it's not worth talking about, judging from the few comments he HAS made.
Since he isn't talking, communicating about trying again, since he hasn't even paid the clinic/hospital for the portion of the package we DID use before I got cancelled, how can I think about trying again?
So instead I plan on my private trip home in October.. which is the ONLY time he mentions another IVF, when I mention how excited I am to see my Mom and Dad and my friends. He says "Maybe you'll be pregant then and can't go". I said, "How? You don't seem to want to talk about another try." Then he becomes silent again.
Dammned if I do, and damned if I don't.
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