Friday, October 30, 2009

Still here

Neither of my children look like me. When I had The Boy, I said in disgust, he looks just like his damn daddy. And I was bitter, because really? I spent 7 of 9 months hugging the toilet. I couldn’t keep ANYTHING down. And he shows up looking like his daddy spit him out. At least I can take comfort in the fact that he thinks like his mama.

And The Brat, well…it took me some time to figure out what side of the family she took after. She had her daddy’s eyes for sure, but I just couldn’t say because like The Boy, she had my mannerisms, but not my face. I’d say she was the milkman’s kid, but you know… I was there, and I’m SURE I wasn’t banging the milkman. And one day it hit me. I went to go pick her up from her GranGran’s house, and she was holding her hand and looking up at me, and OMG! SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE HER. Which is kind of funny, because I always said that The Man looks like his Mama. And he does. From the tip of his eyelashes to the dip in his lip. It just never occurred to me that it just came full circle and The Brat who looks like her Daddy, looks just like her Gran-Gran.

The Brat loved her Gran-Gran so much. She pretty much went wherever she went. She went to church – her too. She went shopping – “gran-gran please come take me with you”. She was her favorite grandma…as my mom called her “the real grandmother”. Because she never went anywhere without her grand-daughters. They always wanted to go visit, spend school vacations “helping” in the daycare (although, I don’t know how much help 6 & 7 year olds can be), they even went with her on Black Friday – while I stayed in bed with a food hangover.


The Brat’s birthday was a few weeks ago. And I took this picture of her & posted it to my facebook. When I went back to look at the picture, it was never more clear as she’s losing the baby fat and starting to look more like a young adult than mommy’s baby that she looks like her grandma. Down to the hips, which I KNOW she didn’t get from me.

We lost her Gran-Gran to breast cancer 2 years ago today. She's gone, and I still miss her so much. But I look into the faces of my family and I see her looking back at me.

She is still here.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

All these things that I have learned

#1. After years of hating the texture of my hair...I. LOVE. MY. HAIR.

(me. getting ready for the U2 concert.)

When I was younger (MUCH younger) I would be jealous of the girls who's hair was more fine (read: "good hair") because OMG is my hair thick and a big giant pain in the ass to maintain, and I couldn't just wet it and throw it into a ponytail, it required gel and maybe a clip and DEFINITELY a scarf. And please believe that I would throw down over somebody getting water in my hair if I hadn't planned to get wet because now my hair was all jacked up ESPECIALLY if I didn't have braids a perm a plan B.

Anyways. I don't feel like that anymore. As my hairdresser likes to say, there is no such thing as good/bad hair --only healthy and not healthy. And my healthy, thick hair? Is pretty hot.

#2 on the list of things that I've learned: If I'm going to indulge in my enjoyment in completely inappropriate movie material, I should leave The Man out of it. I thought that he was completely aware of my inner 14 year old boy when it comes to movie watching. But apparently, even *I* can go too far. This weekend I asked him if we could watch one of my blockbuster online flicks that I got. Team America: World Police (fuck yeah!) He gave me look like I had either impressed him OR that his opinion of me had lowered several notches. I'm still not sure which. And I don't think he is either.

#3. If I have a choice between doing anything and going to see my most favorite-ist band in the world...? I'm never, ever going choose the other thing. Last night I went to VH1 Storytellers with the Foo Fighters. It was the most fun EVAR. Today, I am exhausted, but still abuzz from last night. Also? Every time I see them in concert - which, to date has been 14 times - I fall in love some more.

#3.5. I'm a really lucky Lady to have a husband who puts up with my ridiculous fangirl-ness.

#4. If I'm gonna be PMSing...watching sad tear-jerker type movies. Is a bad idea. Because once the tears stop, they can't always be turned off.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Pay It Forward

*Or the “Who would look a gift horse in the mouth? Me. That’s who.” Post

My home is very open. Always has been. Growing up, our house was where all the girls hung out. Day in & day out. After school and random weekends. They were here so much that they all knew to stick their hands into the mail slot to unlock the screen door so they could let themselves in (because if we were home, the key was in the door. Don’t get any funny ideas about robbing me.) Same with The Man…he & his friends could be found if not cruising Crenshaw (damn, I’m old!), then they were at the house.

Know what happens when you have two people who are used to having company? A house full of people, that’s what. Since I’ve been married, I don’t remember a time when there wasn’t SOMEBODY over. And just about everybody was welcome. Except for that one guy who ran around on his wife all the time, and tried to make The Man his partner in crime. HE – couldn’t even look in my house’s direction. Who me, bitter? ANYWAYS… my point is that my home has always been open. You’re coming to LA/Arizona/Boston/Hawaii? Stay here! Always wanted to go to LA? Not only will we show you around (and Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles in not out of the question), you can come stay with us at the folks’ house...because they are used to us inviting people over. The Holidays were a mixture of family, friends, and Marines who didn’t go home for the holidays.

I never really thought of as being generous, it just was. The same way my eyes are brown, I expected that there would be extra people at the house for Christmas. The point? (I bet you didn’t think there was one, did you?) A very close friend offered me a gift. Because she and her husband wanted us to have it. And I refused. Because I never want my friends to think that I love them for the things they give me, instead of who they are. But I did ask why. The response gave me something to think about: we give so much of ourselves to others, that they would like to do something generous for us. It was a surprise, to say the least.

And what she said stayed with me. The things that I do for other people, I do because I want to, because I CAN. The things that I do for my friends I do with an open heart, and that’s the way it should be. The gift…? Is being offered because they wants to. And they can. Am I the only one in our relationship allowed to give a gift, be generous? After all, I'm pretty damn sure that their friendship is not based on all the my awesome apple cobbler. Heh.

So I said all that to say that she changed my mind. I’m choosing to accept their gift with the open heart in which it was offered. So I guess maybe instead of looking the gift horse in the mouth, I'll look down at his shoes. After all, I like shoes. Although, I don't know that I want somebody welding or nailing or doing whatever the hell it is they do to horse ummm... feet? That's bound to fuck up my pedicure.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

The birthday post that's really not about birthdays but about how I am clearly clueless







Every year The Man surprises me for my birthday. This paying attention thing? I’m doing it wrong.

A couple of years ago for my birthday, my co-workers/friends took me to dinner after work to celebrate my birthday. When I got back to my car, it had disappeared. I IMMEDIATELY lost my buzz and started freaking out because OMG! MY-CAR-JUST-GOT-STOLEN-FROM-WORK-IN-THE-PARKING-GARAGE-AND-HOW-IN-THE-HELL-AM-I-GONNA-EXPLAIN-THIS?! It’s a 6 floor structure, so I checked up a floor and down a floor because even though I usually park in the exact same spot every day, I was drunk, so maybe I thought that I was off a floor? I was certainly HOPING so because I didn’t want to go home and say, hey err…honey, my car got stolen while I was out drinkin’.

My cousin (who was in on the “surprise”) says to me. Just hit the alarm button…and before I could say “But I don’t have an alarm button” she hit one and THAT’S how I found out I got a new car. It was stuffed with balloons and yes I cried like a little girl.
A few days ago, my sister told me she was taking me to a Pirate Adventure – type place (which... I've been to, and I loved). But for adults. Wear a pirate costume…which I umm..conveniently have already. So after a day of pancakes, and bowling and drinking (oh my!) I left the house still pretty drunk and my sissie, well... she called her friend who told her that she would meet us at the place with the tickets. Didn’t even occur to me to wonder where the heck I was going but I guess I should have because.... It was a surprise party. For me.


That’s me wondering WTF. I was so drunk surprised that it took me a second to realize what was happening.

There were cupcakes

And drinking…

And friends

God, I love my friends.

I even love The Man, even though I'm pretty sure one of these days he's going to scare me right into a heart attack.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Wednesday Workout


THIS + 4:45 AM = OUCH



Yep, this is me checking in. And making some general observations:

Right now, my hair is braided. I got it braided because I’m lazy/tired of doing my hair and this is the easiest way to keep it looking nice. It’s almost time to take my hair down. I don’t know about the rest of y’all…but my mama – who has “good hair” did not pass it down to her daughters. And I am totally unwilling to sweat out the ‘do when I get it did. So I guess this means that I’ll be getting my shit re-braided. Which isn’t horrible because this means less time in the mirror trying to make my hair look like LESS of a rats nest…although that leaves MORE time for make up. Hmm…win-win?

I’m waiting for this one lady to go flying off of her treadmill. Mean, I know…but in my defense she runs at like 7.5 with the steepest incline available and she is hanging on the side rails with a death grip. One of these days her sweaty hand is gonna slip and she is gonna shoot backwards and hit the treadmill behind her. I hope I’m not behind her because I will probably fall off my machine in shock, and then stay down because I’ll be laughing too hard to get back up.

At zero/ dark-thirty when I hit the gym, I am at my MOST unimpressive. I probably have not washed my face and I’m wearing my stinky gym clothes (unrelated-sortof…WTF is up with people who smell freshly showered to run at the gym? Aren’t you defeating the purpose of your shower? PLEASE say you’re going to shower again after your workout… You are, right?) MY POINT though – is what’s up with dudes trying to hustle a phone number? I KNOW I’m not cute at 5AM. I’m not even friendly until AFTER my workout; so NO, I don’t want your name, NO I don’t want to give you mine and really? There are 20 other machines, do you HAVE to choose the one right next to me?

Okay, moving on to business:

YES. I went to the gym every day I was supposed to, but I did overdose on home-made chocolate chips on the 1st because I was celebrating my birthMONTH. And during this month I’m pretty much allowed to do whatever I want they will let me get away with. AND I went to happy hour Friday where I didn’t do too bad. I split some spinach & artichoke dip (see? I had veggies, not so bad, right?), although I did have it with a beverage

…or two. LOL. (Don’t trip. I still managed to lose 2 lbs this week)


Also, because it’s my birthday (and really it IS this weekend) I’m going to happy hour AGAIN on Friday (Martini Bar…mmmm). But, if you think I’m not going to get a workout in this weekend…you’d be wrong. I’m going bowling with The Brat for HER birthday, which, coincidentally is the day before mine AND because my professor chose Sunday as her furlough day, I’m even going to get in a birthday workout, before some football.


So be prepared next week for a post where I discuss how I either fell off the wagon, overdosed on Cold Stone cupcakes and drank all weekend long because it's my birthday OR a post where I drank all weekend long because it's my birthday AND STILL managed to get my ass over to the gym.