Remember Me?

I've returned.

It would seem that I turn to writing when I don't know what to do with myself.  I put my words on paper and try to make sense of it all. And there's a lot going on that doesn't make sense these days. So, I decided to click onto my old friend Blogger and I signed into The Daily Dandy. It was that easy.

It feels good to be back. Me and the keyboard "having a conversation about nothing". But these days nothing seems... trivial. Life is changed drastically since 2016, the last time I logged into this place; my home for my words and my thoughts. But I guess that's the thing about going home, you somehow are comforted by the stability of what you know and it feeds your soul.

Comfort is something we all desperately need because right now. Life as we know it, knew it, and will live it is drastically different. That's the straight sh*t. No kidding.

Covid-19 has taken our world hostage, quite literally and we are left to wait, worry and wonder when and if we will make it out of this pandemic. We are all looking for answers and assurances that this too shall pass. But there are none.

As of today, I have been self quarantined at home for 7 days. Unprecedented. TV News media is my constant companion. My store is closed. No work, no business, no American dream or engine that drives our economy because "social distancing' must be our new normal. No restaurants, malls, boutiques, stores or coffee shops open. It's almost eerie.

I know I'm not alone. Mankind has been a great partner in all this, and we must stick together. Today, by the grace of God, I am healthy and my family is healthy. That is a blessing. So I'm going to focus on the blessings. The small things, the memories we have been making at the dinner table, and I'm going to do my part to slow the spread of this virus.

I'll come back here a lot, during this.
I'll talk about nothing and something and that something we are all talking about.
And together, we will connect without actually connecting.

It's good to be home again where I belong. In my own little universe

Mini Me

I got the chance to spend some quality time with Frick this weekend before she headed back to the Big Apple and you know what I discovered?

She is a total Mini Me.

I guess I always knew this to be true, but the older she gets the more I begin to see the similarities in our personalities. She is totally me.

She's been going through some stuff recently, and that stuff is stuff we all go through. Growing pains, heartache and the kind of stuff that challenges the foundation of who we are. And she's handled it much like I do-or would have. She even made some statements that I have made when faced with a similar situation. I was kind of surprised.

She's a mini me.

We talked...a lot. And we discussed things and I gave her advice as best I could. I think she gets it, but because we are so similar I feel her pain, quite literally.

We both work hard and are focused on the end result.
We both play hard and enjoy play as a satisfying reward.
We both love hard-sometimes to our detriment.
And we both feel really hard, which in turn makes us vulnerable and obvious. We wear our hearts on our sleeves.

She too, has integrity and a great capacity to "over think" things, which gives me the unique opportunity to provide her with some perspective. Something I sometimes seek in my own mother. I can hardly believe this amazing young woman came from me and is like me in so many ways. I'm left to question whether this is a good thing or a bad thing?  Of course, I hope she has a different outcome with her life. One that is better than the life I have lived and I wish for her not to duplicate the mistakes I have made. Let's hope history does not repeat itself here.

Like they saying goes, "Mirror, mirror on the the wall. I am my mother after all...."

From Paris With Love

There were so many incredible things that happened over the weekend, but none more devastating than the attack on our innocence. Terror took front stage on Friday and our innocence was the victim. But rest assured good prevails, as it always does because evil has no place amongst our existence. Yet we are changed as a world, and we now know that this cowardice act of terror will NOT, can NOT, become commonplace. The lives of the innocent that were lost will never be forgotten and this war we are fighting will somehow bring justice to a broken hearted world.

The words of the victims/survivors tell a story of courage, love and triumph for life; not at all what the hate that entered into the city of Paris on Friday night intended.
I came across this today when I was going to post something different entirely-and I am humbled by this young girl's resolve and by her courage.

This is the Facebook post of  Isobel Bowdery, a young college student who attended the rock and roll show at the Bataclan Theatre in Paris on Friday night:

"you never think it will happen to you. It was just a friday night at a rock show. the atmosphere was so happy and everyone was dancing and smiling. and then when the men came through the front entrance and began the shooting, we naiively believed it was all part of the show. It wasn’t just a terrorist attack, it was a massacre. Dozens of people were shot right infront of me. Pools of blood filled the floor. Cries of grown men who held their girlfriends dead bodies pierced the small music venue. Futures demolished, families heartbroken. in an instant. Shocked and alone, I pretended to be dead for over an hour, lying among people who could see their loved ones motionless.. Holding my breath, trying to not move, not cry – not giving those men the fear they longed to see. I was incredibly lucky to survive. But so many didn’t. The people who had been there for the exact same reasons as I – to have a fun friday night were innocent. This world is cruel. And acts like this are suppose to highlight the depravity of humans and the images of those men circuling us like vultures will haunt me for the rest of my life. The way they meticoulsy aimed at shot people around the standing area i was in the centre of without any consideration for human life. It didn’t feel real. i expected any moment for someone to say it was just a nightmare. But being a survivor of this horror lets me able to shed light on the heroes. To the man who reassured me and put his life on line to try and cover my brain whilst i whimpered, to the couple whose last words of love kept me believing the good in the world, to the police who succeded in rescuing hundreds of people, to the complete strangers who picked me up from the road and consoled me during the 45 minutes I truly believed the boy i loved was dead, to the injured man who i had mistaken for him and then on my recognition that he was not Amaury, held me and told me everything was going to be fine despite being all alone and scared himself, to the woman who opened her doors to the survivors, to the friend who offered me shelter and went out to buy new clothes so i wouldnt have to wear this blood stained top, to all of you who have sent caring messages of support – you make me believe this world has the potential to be better. to never let this happen again. but most of this is to the 80 people who were murdered inside that venue, who weren’t as lucky, who didnt get to wake up today and to all the pain that their friends and families are going through. I am so sorry. There’s nothing that will fix the pain. I feel priviledged to be there for their last breaths. And truly beliving that I would join them, I promise that their last thoughts were not on the animals who caused all this. It was thinking of the people they loved. As i lay down in the blood of strangers and waiting for my bullet to end my mere 22 years, I envisioned every face that I have ever loved and whispered I love you. over and over again. reflecting on the highlights of my life. Wishing that those i love knew just how much, wishing that they knew that no matter what happened to me, to keep belieivng in the good in people. to not let those men win. Last night, the lives of many were forever changed and it is up to us to be better people. to live lives that the innocent victims of this tragedy dreamt about but sadly will now never be able to fulfil. RIP angels. You will never be forgotten."

The Pack Mentality

Those five men look like movie stars-don't they?
That's because they are. And it happened in the most incredible way. But that's only part of the story.

These brothers-6 in total (and 1 sister)-grew up in in a 16th floor Manhattan public housing apartment which served for 14 years as a prison for the family. Confined to the cramped apartment under their bizarre father's rule, the family of nine spent most of their lives with no contact with the outside world. The father forbade them to ever leave the apartment and held the only key to the front door. The children were home schooled by their mother, and taught never to communicate with strangers. Their only contact with real world were on necessary, supervised appointments or controlled outings to New York tourist destinations. The children were told to never cut their hair and that the outside world had "bad people in it".

The one privilege the boys father did allow was movies. And they indulged in many movies as their personal form of escape from the hell that they knew as their life. Middle brother Mukunda, was the prop master and he would make items from their favorite movies from things he had lying about the house. The boys would reenact scenes from the movies as a way to feel normal and feel free. Then in January 2010, Mukunda, then 15, decided he needed to escape and see life outside his prison walls.

Little did Mukunda know that that escape-he wore a mask he had made to resemble Mike Meyers from the Halloween movies so that he would not be recognized outside by his father-would change all of their lives for ever. Once outside, Mukunda didn't know his address so he kept the apartment building in his site as he visited a bank and a supermarket. People were afraid so he was soon stopped by police. When questioned Makunda says,

“They started asking, ‘Do you live here? Where are you from?’ And I was always taught to never interact with any people, so I didn’t say anything, you know. I didn’t give them any information on me,” Mukunda recalled.

He was placed on a psychiatric hold and sent to Bellevue Hospital for a week stay, which he loved. It was his first interaction with other people outside his family. When he returned home, his father was no longer in control. The boys then started going out together and on a chance meeting they met film maker Crystal Moselle, who they bonded with over their love of movies. Moselle ended up filming the boys for 5 years and the result is her documentary file "The Wolfpack", in theaters now. The film has bee critically acclaimed and won a Grand Jury prize at  this year's Sundance Film Festival.

Purely coincidence that one of the first people the boys meet is a film maker? I think not. These boys have a whole lot of catching up to do and they are doing it in grand style. Hollywood has come knocking and they ironically were, "ready for their closeup". But at an incredible price.

Change Is In The Air

Ever get a feeling that change is coming? This feeling feels like the opportunity for a big change and suddenly you are on the verge of something different? Different and good or different and bad?That's the Yin and Yang of life. For me- it's here and now and I feel it rising like the tide. I need to be smart. I need to be really smart and research the hell out of the options. Something tells me this may just be what I need-like that something I have been praying for, asking for during sleepless nights.

Change is good and it comes in all shapes and sizes.

Caitlyn Jenner-"I'm free" are the words she used to launch her new life change. It's a big one too-a "watershed moment", both historic and important for people like her-life altering because life, as she knew it, will never be the same.

David Letterman-His "Late Show" life has come to an end. Change for him was self imposed because "not everything good lasts forever". His change is here and now.

Birth/Death-The beginning of a new life is by far the greatest gift of all-the Yin. Death, by contrast can be earth shattering-the Yang.

Divorce/Marriage-The breaking up of a marriage can be a devastating change, but can ultimately bring both a good or bad change to those who experience it. So can the beginning of a marriage. The creation of a shared life and family is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself-and your mate. As someone who has experienced divorce, I never thought, while I was going through it, that it was good. I often cursed the heartache and pain I went through and wondered what I had done to deserve it. But I know now that it was a blessing.

Change can be challenging and difficult but it can also be liberating. Change takes attention and perseverance and ultimately, whatever the change that takes place, you pray for the knowledge that it was somehow meant to be.

Whatever the change in the air for me at this time-I am ready. I have been waiting for this opportunity my whole life.

Fun, Fun, Fun, Till Her Daddy Takes The T-Bird Away

It's been so wonderful having Frick home from college. Everybody is happy to be a complete family unit again. Even the dogs! I notice that Frick and Frack have a new found love and respect for each other, which is VERY rare and something I do not want to disturb. Part of this new buddy relationship may relate to the fact that they do not have to share a car anymore.

Quick back story: Frick left for college in August of 2012. Frack did not have his driver's licence at that time, so Frick's car sat unused until Frack got his licence in Feb 2013. Said car then became Frack's car, and you know how  a boy feels about his first car. When Frick came home on the occasional weekend during the year, it wasn't always smooth negotiations between the two of them for the car. BUT, lucky for us, we have 4 cars, and My Guy and I only need a car each for driving to work and back. Precious evenings out with their friends were salvaged by the parents carpooling at night. Problem temporarily solved right?

Wrong.

Now that we have Frick all to ourselves for the summer, the need for everyone to have their own car has reached a crescendo.Summer jobs, Frack still in school, my job, My Guy's job, we all need our own wheels. So what are we to do? Again, I said we are fortunate enough to have 4 cars. The fourth car is what we will call "the race car", and it's a two seater, five speed. The only one's that can drive a five speed in the family are My Guy and myself. The race car is a a little showy for My Guy to pull up to his office everyday, so guess who has to take one for the team and drive the rag top, race car everyday???

Oh hell YES! It's meee! and I'm loving it!

I have to say, driving a five speed is very freeing, especially when the top is down and the wind is blowing through your hair, but it's a lot of work too. It's definitely not as smooth sailing as an automatic, but who the hell cares? The work out, (I'm definitely getting an arm workout) and the power I am experiencing daily is a complete blast!! Heck, I may never give up this car. If it weren't for the severe winter weather here, one would have a hard time prying the key from my hand later in the year.

Nothing erases the stresses of a long day at work like the ride home, top down, in my race car and I'm taking downshifting to a whole new art form. I'm also feeling like I want my kids to experience this kind of joy, so I'm thinking it's time to teach them.But then again, if I do that, I may never see the race car again.

In fact, they may start fighting over the race car, and then we would be back to square one again.

No, I'm going to wait on Frick and Frack's stick shift lessons until later in the summer and keep on having my own personal fun. Because once I bring them in on the party, I know exactly what will happen.

It will be just like dear old dad taking my T-Bird away.

Bad Joke Friday

Jack woke up with a huge hangover after attending his company’s Christmas party. He didn’t even remember how he got home from the party.

As bad as he as feeling, he wondered if he did something wrong.

Jack had to force himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he saw was couple of aspirins next to a glass of water on the side table.

And, next to them, a single red rose! Jack sat up and saw his clothing in front of him, all clean and pressed.

He looked around the room and saw that it was in perfect order, spotlessly clean.

So was the rest of the house. He took the aspirins, and cringed when he saw a huge black eye staring back at him in the bathroom mirror.

Then he noticed a note hanging on the corner of the mirror written in red with little hearts on it and a kiss mark from his wife in lipstick:

“Honey, breakfast is on the stove. I left early to get groceries to make you your favorite dinner tonight. I love you, darling!”

He stumbled to the kitchen and sure enough, there was hot breakfast, steaming hot coffee and the morning newspaper. His son was also at the table, eating.

Jack asked, “Son, what happened last night?”

“Well, you came home after 3 A.M, drunk and out of your mind. You fell over the coffee table and broke it, and then you puked in the hallway, and got that black eye when you ran into the door.”

Confused, he asked his son, “So, why is everything in such perfect order and so clean? I have a rose, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me??

His son replied, “Oh THAT! Mum dragged you to the bathroom to clean you up, and when she tried to take your pants off, you screamed, ‘Leave me alone b*tch, I’m married!

I Was Just Going To Say...

I intended to talk about happy Christmas music today, but it just doesn't seem right in this forum.

The Pat's played one heck of a second half last night, but this morning it doesn't really matter. My beloved Boston Herald and I, together this morning have set the tone for the day.

As much as I try, and generally succeed in going on with my life, those little faces, the unspeakable horror creeps in and causes me to hold my children close. Frozen almost, in fear of what could happen, a constant reminder of the evil that lives among us.

I heard my daughter say, "I don't want to talk about it," and I was frozen again, unable to move the important conversation forward. I don't think I wanted to talk about it either. But I did talk to my son. I had to explain to him that his high school will be on lock down today. That visitors must make arrangements to gain entry and that he cannot enjoy the privilege of open campus any longer. He understood completely, once he realized how quickly copy cats can strike and how precious life is.

I know it won't always feel like this. I know I'll tell funny and inappropriate jokes and talk about the frivolousness of life again soon on The Daily Dandy. I just knew it couldn't be today. It doesn't feel right.

I also know I'll try to never forget. I can do that for them. It's just about the only thing I can do for them.

Heroine In Heaven

Nora Ephron has left the building.

And while I never knew the woman who would turn out to be the essayist, Oscar nominated screen writer and movie director of a generation, I knew her well. Or should I say she knew us well, the "us" being women everywhere. Norma had a unique gift. She could see it then she could write about it.

She could write the hell out of anything and she caught the attention of people in her profession early in her career at The Post. When she fell into Hollywood, quite by mistake, Ephron's prose was so real and funny that it was hard not to see her genius. She turned her divorce from Watergate journalist, Carl Bernstein into literary and Hollywood gold with her novel "Heartburn", which was turned into a screen play and she never looked back. Not bad when you have Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson playing out your life story. Her many screen writing credits brought her the opportunity to direct and in 1993, she landed her first hit with "Sleepless In Seattle".

She continued to succeed as woman in the exclusive boys club in Hollywood and her credits are impressive. "When Harry Met Sally", "You've Got Mail" and "Julie & Julia" to name a few. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in the mind of Nora's genius. Today, as I read the articles and obits on this legendary lady, one specific essay stands out. Interesting that it was not written for Hollywood or for publication. It was written as a Commencement Address to the 1996 graduates of Wellesley College, her  alma mater. She talked about how upon her entrance to Wellesley, in the fall of 1958, there had been an article in the Harvard Crimson stereo typing women's colleges. Wellesley, it said, was a school for tunicata-(a fish who spend the beginnings of life swimming around exploring the ocean and the second part of life lying on the ocean floor breeding). Nora went on to recall how 25 years later, everyone of her classmates still remembered the definition of the tunicata.

Long story short, the world of Wellesley in those days so long ago, taught Nora and her classmates that they were in college attendance to marry success not achieve success. It would seem that Nora made a career out of proving them wrong. Be your own heroine.

And those words certainly resonate with me.

In closing her Commencement Address Nora said this, and I will remember this always and make it a mantra:

"Whatever you choose, however many roads you travel, I hope that you choose not to be a lady. I hope that you will find some way to break the rules and make a little trouble out there. And I hope that you will choose to make some of that trouble on behalf of women."

Tater Tale

So I heard this great story over the weekend, and I thought I would share it with you.

The book above was written by a local guy, who created, "The Adventures of Pat The Potato" to explain to a young family member about the size of one's heart and what can happen when a young potato finds the courage to succeed. It is a story about a very small, second grade potato who leaves home to get away from the ridicule of being the smallest potato in town. Written for his young family member who was struggling with peer pressure, the book became family lore and was then accidentally introduced to a publisher.

Mr. Gannon, flabbergasted that someone found his children's tale interesting enough to publish, was overjoyed to learn that not only did his tale about Pat sell, but the book was quickly adopted by the Potato Museum in Idaho as their pseudo "mascot" book. The sales of the book from the visitors of the museum and the sales on Amazon.com have been good and Michael Gannon couldn't have been more surprised.

Mr. Gannon relayed how amazed he is every month when he opens his small royalties check from book sales. The publisher has since asked Mr. Gannon to write another book. He has declined, of course, because the story came from an idea he had to help a young family member to understand that it's ok to be small and that sometimes being small sometimes has it's advantages. Never claiming to be an author, Mr. Gannon decided that Pat the Potato would be his only literary effort.

An effort like that, it seems, is no small potato.

It Can't Be That Bad, Can it?

Funny True Happenings To Make You Laugh on Thursday

The average cost of rehabilitating a seal after the Exxon Valdez oil spill in Alaska was $80,000 USD. At a special ceremony, two of the most expensively saved animals were released back into the wild amid cheers and applause from tree hugging onlookers. A minute later, in full view, they were both eaten by a killer whale. 

A psychology student in New York rented out her spare room to a carpenter in order to nag him constantly and study his reactions. After weeks of needling, he snapped and beat her repeatedly with an axe, leaving her mentally retarded.

In 1992, Frank Perkins of Los Angeles made an attempt on the world flagpole-sitting record. Suffering from 'flu he came down eight hours short of the 400 day record, his sponsor had gone bust, his girlfriend had left him and his 'phone and electricity had been cut off.

A woman came home to find her husband in the kitchen, shaking frantically with what looked like a wire running from his waist towards the electric kettle. Intending to jolt him away from the deadly current she whacked him with a handy plank of wood by the back door, breaking his arm in two places. Until that moment he had been happily listening to his Walkman.

Two animal rights protesters were protesting the cruelty of sending pigs to a slaughterhouse in Bonn, Germany. Suddenly the pigs, all two thousand of them, escaped through a broken fence and stampeded, trampling the two hapless protesters to death.

There now. Your day's not so bad, is it?

http://www.guy-sports.com/humor/jokes/index_thu.htm

Special Is As Special Does

I had the WORST day yesterday. I mean the worst.

It started out bad and got worse as the day progressed. It wasn't just one thing but a culmination of a lot of things and I was quietly, secretly trying to hold it together. Then, the biggest hit of all came and it was like a tidal wave of bad about the one thing that you can get me with 10 out of 10 times. My kids. And this time it wasn't just one, it was both.

As you know, we have been in celebratory mode around here with Frick graduating and all, and it all culminates this weekend with a big, blow out, $$oiree for her on Saturday. It's the party she never had, but I think she deserves and I made sure to "order it up from the caterer" (this will make sense in a minute) Then the blow came and it left me sick to my stomach.

I'm still in limbo over my feelings, and as I sit here today and wait for the rental company (that there is no turning back on), to come and set up the massive tent, tables, chairs and dance floor, I have to ask myself, "What the hell are you doing?". Then like a little grace from God, just when I had asked for it and needed it, it came to me in my morning paper. It's not really the answer, because there is no answer, but it's a statement. A mission statement to all those parents who are feeling like I am right now.

A local English teacher addressed the students at commencement last weekend and his speech entitled, "You're  Not Special" put it into perspective for me. He said what needed to be said to all of us parents and students and overachievers who think our shit doesn't stink. Boy are we wrong.

Basically it was a much needed bitch slap to all of us who get caught up in the race for perfection.

"You are not special. You are not exceptional.

Contrary to what your u9 soccer trophy suggests, your glowing seventh grade report card, despite every assurance of a certain corpulent purple dinosaur, that nice Mister Rogers and your batty Aunt Sylvia, no matter how often your maternal caped crusader has swooped in to save you... you’re nothing special."

Was my cape really that obvious?

What the heck? It was like this guy was talking directly to me and his words were never truer. He did what needed to be done and he told it like it needs to be told. As a parent in the community, an educator and mentor, he gave it to them straight, just like the real world undoubtedly will. 

"Yes, you’ve been pampered, cosseted, doted upon, helmeted, bubble-wrapped. Yes, capable adults with other things to do have held you, kissed you, fed you, wiped your mouth, wiped your bottom, trained you, taught you, tutored you, coached you, listened to you, counseled you, encouraged you, consoled you and encouraged you again. You’ve been nudged, cajoled, wheedled and implored. You’ve been feted and fawned over and called sweetie pie. Yes, you have. And, certainly, we’ve been to your games, your plays, your recitals, your science fairs. Absolutely, smiles ignite when you walk into a room, and hundreds gasp with delight at your every tweet. Why, maybe you’ve even had your picture in the Townsman! And now you’ve conquered high school... and, indisputably, here we all have gathered for you, the pride and joy of this fine community, the first to emerge from that magnificent new building...

But do not get the idea you’re anything special. Because you’re not."

Guilty as charged and justly so, because we may have taught our over scheduled, over achieving children that it's more about the medal and less about the race. He then goes on to encourage the graduates to pursue a more fulfilling life, one that puts the focus on hard work and achieving. Because Frack's three week trip to Uganda this summer NEEDS to be about the children they are helping and the school they are building, not the resume he is building. The irony is not lost on me. 


“The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you’re a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer.”


Amen to that. Because I will certainly remember it this Saturday as I'm cutting the check to the caterer. 

This Is How I Feel Today..

"When The Solution Is Simple, God Is Answering," Albert Einstein

Sometimes its hard for me to believe that I have a child going off to college because I still have moments of uncertainty that make me want to crawl into the fetal position and stay there. You see, that's me right now, the little white guy above and I need to come to a decision about a very important part of my life. I need to choose one of those paths and hope to God it's the right one. 

What do you do, when you are faced with a tough decision? How do you handle it? I do the whole pros and cons thing. I'm an old school, pen and paper kind of girl. I literally write out the pros and cons of a situation and try to trigger that "a-ha" moment which will bring me the answer that I have been seeking. It doesn't always work, but I usually end up learning something. 

Making tough decisions can be character building, but it sucks while you are going through the process, and I am going through the process right now. It calls for maturity and critical thinking, none of witch come easily when it's an important decision. My dad always taught me to remove the emotion from the equation and try to look at it from a purely non emotional view point. That's pretty hard to do when the decision you make determines the fate of something you care so deeply about.

I am the most decisive person I know when it comes to frivolous decisions. I can look at a pair of shoes, a lip gloss, eye shadow or handbag and the decision to pair this with that and that with this comes instantly. Never one to waver over fashion choices, I may ask for help occasionally, but I have an innate sense of what is right immediately. Same goes for when the decision has to do with one of my children. Mother's intuition is always there for me when it come to guiding my kids through tough times in life.It may not always be "right", but it is always right for us. So why is it that I can't make an all important life decision for myself instantly? 

Maybe this answer is not meant to come instantly. Maybe the lesson is in the process and finding the answer   is the cherry on the sundae. I sure hope so, because right now I'm still up there looking out over the paths. And I'm thinking about that fetal position thing....

"Message Received"

The holiday weekend was great and things went along smoothly, until something happened that sent chills down my spine and really sent Frick for a loop. As much as I hate to say it, I am grateful for the teaching moment we got from it.

A young girl from the next town over, a senior who had just graduated, went missing on Sunday night. Frick knew this girl, not well, but had acted in a production of "Annie" two years ago with this lovely young lady. Her father reported her missing late Sunday night when she didn't return home her job at a local mall. Her body was found yesterday in a marsh in the small town she lived in. Police aren't saying much except that it is being treated as a homicide investigation and that they have one person of interest.

Frick has been mesmerized with the events that have been playing out on Facebook and the conspiracy theories that have been circulating, and I can't say that I blame her. This one hit a little too close to home for either of our likings. I saw in my child the realization that if it could happen here, it could happen to anyone.

I had to tell her. I had to say it and as sorry I am for that family who lost a beautiful child, I am grateful to be able to use this to teach my daughter about the dangers that exist in this vast and inviting world.

• I told her that all those times she told me I was being ridiculously strict with her, this is why.


• I told her that this is why I won't let her go out of the house without me knowing exactly where she is going and for how long she will be there.


• I told her that this is why her step father wants her to text him when she gets to places and parties and why her curfew's must be adhered to with utmost of punctuality.

And Frack looked my straight in the eye and for once didn't roll her teenage eyes at me, and said, "Message received mom."

Those were probably the two greatest and most honest words I have heard in a long time.

Wednesday:Take 2

Dear Grilled Cheezus:

I want to do a re-do of today. Instead of blogging about the spiritual episode that was inspired by your face on a grilled cheese sandwich, like I was supposed to, I ended up spending an entire day in the hospital after what I thought was going to be an early morning follow up appointment with my doctor. AND I am still in one piece.

You know what Grilled Cheezus, I want to do an entire week re-do, because this has to be one of the worst weeks of my life. But I'm sick of me being sick of sick, ok? I want this crap to end almost as badly as Finn want to touch Rachel's boobies.

After the week I have had the sight of a doctor is enough to turn me into a screaming, insulting Sue Sylvester. The one that doesn't believe in God, not the soft one who loves her special needs sister like I normally am. I believe in you Grilled Cheezus. I know that the medical events of the past week must somehow be a test of my faith in you. Yet, I still choose to believe. Because I believe that I'm at the finish line and today's developments were just a test of my strength. And I'm strong.

Did I pass Grilled Cheezus?? Can I go back to normal now? I promise I will NEVER go to an emergency room and not use the hand sanitizer. Swear. And I promise to do everything I'm told so that I feel better soon. I'll even go to church like Kurt AND wear a fabulous hat, Grilled Cheezus. I'll even make more of your fabulous grilled cheese sandwiches in my (how brilliant) George Foreman grill!

And I promise, Grilled Cheesus, I won't even eat you.

You gotta promise to make this all go away. OK?

We got a deal?

xoxox-

Candy

Pissed And Proud

Maybe my brother was right about the alpha male thing after all because today, I'm pissed.

Somebody really pissed me off on Monday and would you believe I'm still stewing about it? The problem is, I am holding back what I would really like to say and do because I have signed a contract and paid this person a large sum of money to provide a service for me, so I am stuck between a rock and a hard place. At issue; money, of course.
I don't care for the way this person handles business and it has been a sticking point between us for quite some time. I thought I'd made myself clear, when I entered into this contract, I would be sticking to my plan, considering it was my money. This person agreed to stay on plan, then took my money and since has done nothing but butt heads with me and belittle me for working to stick to my plan.

But the real breaking point was on Monday. That person made a grave error. The crime committed was one my mother would describe as fatal. My mom would always say, "Don't ever make the mistake of taking my kindness for stupidity."
And that's exactly what happened.
Unfortunately for me, once you have gotten me to that point, there's no going back. You're dead to me, fired, I'll cut you off like a sales tag on a new pair of shoes, gone. And I'm at that point. How am I going to work with this person now?

Since the choice I have is to fore fit the money already paid or shut my mouth and continue on, I am taking my own advice and deleting the emotion from the equation. Now I'm running the show in a very professional and bottom line way and all of my dealings with this person will be of delegation and no negotiation. I will, however, make it quite clear there will be a zero tolerance policy in place for any opinions said person is to offer. I'm simply not interested. And I'm not sure it's gong to work out for me, anyway. I'm not sure I can continue to work with this person.

I have 10 days to decide.

Either way, it has been an expensive lesson.

Ebay 101

My boy, Frack is a "bee in his bonnet" kind of guy. Which means that when he gets something in his head, there's no getting it out. Most days it annoys the shit out of me, because he will nag and pout and finagle and manipulate to try to get what he is after until he either gets it, or exhausts himself and everyone else in the process.

Sunday was no exception. Frack decides (after about 2000 youtube views) that he wants this "thing" called a handboard. A Teck Deck Handboard to be more specific, and for those of you NOT in the know when it comes to 13 year-old boys, read: ridiculous toy.

It's a skateboard for your HAND. Yes, for your hand, and my boy is now all properly obsessed and has to have one.

Last week Frack asks me to take him to Toys R Us to purchase one, to which I explain that I cannot, because I am at work. He then goes to My Guy and gets the same response. He then calls his Grandfather, who enthusiastically agrees to take him, thrilled at the prospect of spending some quality time with the boy. But what they find out is not at all thrilling. Long story short, Teck Deck Handboards are no longer being made or for sale in the US.

This only makes Frack's "bonnet bee" a huge hornet.

Being the spawn of my loins, Frack does not take no for an answer. He hits the internets which inevitably leads him to Ebay. His first search produces LOTS of handboards for sale, by collectors at redonk prices. When the handboards were available, they sold for about $10 to $20 bucks, retail. $79.99 was the cheapest he found on ebay, and Frack saw no issue with this, as it seemed to him he had solved his problem. But I, not going to school to major in lunch, had a life lesson ready and waiting for my boy.

"Not a chance, pal."

I gotta give it to him. He was pissed, but he sat on it all weekend. Frack being Frack, he forged ahead and did his due diligence. When he came to me on Sunday night, with a $20.00 bill in one hand and his computer in the other, open to an ebay auction he had found for a handboard going for $5 bucks, what could I say? Since had shown some moxie, some responsibility, and some patience, I decided to let him go with this.

We placed the next highest bid at $5.50 and plotted our course of action. $15.00 would be his max bid, saving the remaining $5.00 for shipping costs. Frack then waited. He enthusiastically monitored the situation on his own, continuously refreshing the auction page, placing a winning bid every now and again. He even got into a mini-bidding war with some guy, "a_**" but staying within his budget, and winning the auction in the end for $10.50.

In the end, I think Frack learned a few valuable life lesson in his crash course with Ebay 101.

• $20 bucks in the hand does not make anything a certainty.


• In life, we try to live within the boundaries we set.


• Patience really is a virtue.


• Due diligence is key to any decision making process.

AND...that he has just about the coolest mom on the planet.

Today, anyway.

The Ugly Truth

I was raised to never use the word "ugly" when referring to someones looks. I always believed that if I called someone ugly, even in casual conversation, it come back to haunt me like a contagious disease. I'm not saying I've never used the word, because I have, but usually as an adjective to describe someones actions or a situation gone out of control. As a description of someones physical appearance, I would describe them as simply "unattractive" as a matter of reference. Truth is, I really don't see people as "ugly", as the word itself denotes negativity in actions more than physical appearance. The most beautiful people in the world can still be "ugly", as one's actions speak much louder than the perfect shade of lipstick and a genetically gifted hair-do.

I'm ashamed to admit it (but if I can't confess to you people, who can I confess to) but I used "ugly" this weekend as an adjective to describe how someone looks, which immediately renders me the UGLY one. I can't even explain this one away, citing provocation or a nasty encounter, and now I am doomed. There was no scene. Nothing happened to embarrass or hurt anyone, I just stepped up on the "petty stoop" and stood up there for a while to see how it felt.

My daughter had a show on Friday night and the EX-Ass showed up with his new wife and mother-in-law in tow. I was selling refreshments and tickets, (the mothers of the performers all volunteer), and was one of the first people in the line of sight when walking in. My son was with me, selling refreshments, myself and another mother had ticket sales. At the time, I was helping Frack make change for a $20 when I heard the EX complaining about how I was supposed to reserve tickets for him and how "it figures" that I had not done so. The other mother asked me if I had reserved his tickets somewhere else because there was no envelope bearing his name, when I calmly explained that there was no need to reserve tickets for anyone as there were plenty of tickets availiable for purchase. It was then that I smugly smiled and looked up and saw her.

I had only seen his new wife once or twice, at a golf tournament when she was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and in the car a few times when they have picked up my son. This was the first time I got a good look at her. God help me, you know what I was thinking. Now if we are going to talk about physical appearance, I need to be fair here and set the stage proplerly.
She's a cute package, from a distance (and as I said that's about the closest I ever got to her) She has a pretty blonde, Jenny McCarthy hair style, is in great physical shape and is seven years younger than I. But like most smoke an mirror shows, the smoke had cleared and I was able to get a good look for the first time, face to face.

Let's just say that the tanning booth she has been abusing, is doing the unsightly long blonde facial hair that covered her entire face not a bit of justice. Nor is the leathery appearance of her sun-burned skin that served to highlight her botched veneers (Mave, they looked sort of "black-ish" at the gum-line. why is that?) The look of intimidation on her face told me that my picture has been successfully painted as the Wicked Witch of the West by my EX-Ass, which was confirmed by her mother not ever making eye contact with me. They went into the theatre and I was left with that nasty adjective that I speak of today, running through my head. I am doomed to hell for even thinking it, let alone saying it, but I couldn't help but feel a certain sense of victory.

For a short time the "petty stoop" felt good, but today I feel like I am the only one who can be described as ugly.

It's All In A Name

See that cute little guy above? He has to go through life with a nasty name like Rat. Nothing cute about that. Lets just say he just got a bum rap in the name department, and deep inside there is a good and pure soul, just waiting to get out. It could be, because I can relate, dude. I spent some of my adolescence with that same name. Sort of.

I was over at The Gancer today, where blogger Dr. Kenneth Noisewater does his schtick and was inspired by his post about bullies to tell you my story. Check him out and tell him I sent you!

I was 13 and in the 7th grade. In my town, the Junior High (as we used to call it back in the "olden days", now it is commonly referred to as Middle School) brought the four elementary schools from different parts of town together. There were lots of new kids coming together and meeting for the first time. In my home room there was a group of boys I didn't know and they were heckling me and trying to get my attention. I can't remember exactly what I said back to them or what happened, but I do remember this one kid in particular ending the scene by calling me a "Pit Rat". I still *shudder* when I think of it, because some how that rotten kid managed to make sure that every boy in the Jr. High referred to me by that name.

It caught on so quickly that even kids I considered my friends began avoiding me like the plague and shouting out my new name in the cafeteria and in the bus line. The damage had been done and I was marked with the Scarlett Letter of names. Those formative years were HELL and I can remember even my own brother who was in High School, four years ahead of me, casually throwing the nasty name at me around the house. It was bad enough that at 13, I had braces and was going through an "awkward stage", but now I was a social pariah and my friends handled interaction with me wearing kid gloves.

I think the breaking point was when I was riding my bike home from a softball game one day and my neighbor's, these two, white trash, butt ugly, greasy twins, who had more than a few inbred, genetic defects like more than one row of teeth (I kid you not), shouted out as I rode by them, "Hey, it's the Pit Rat!" That was it for me. ROCK BOTTOM. I think I cried for a week after that.

But this story has a happy ending.

Like all good fairy tales, the braces came off and the ugly duckling soon became the Freshman Swan when entering High School, and the name was fast forgotten. The good news is that even though I went through HELL, I wouldn't change that experience for Tom Brady's hand in marriage. (and you know how much I love my Tommy). I truly believe it made me a stronger and better person. It made me look at my peers for who they were and not what they looked like or what they were wearing and certainly not for what gossip said about them. Because of this, I was able to befriend kids from all the different social groups, never forgetting a kindness shared with me when times were tough.

I remained with the "coolie" social group, even though they put me through hell, but my new status gave me power and a genuine compassion for others. I later found my social navigation, based on a solid foundation of real, with kids from every realm of the social strata, made me the target of envy from those same people who had name called. And what happened to that horrid kid that started it all? He spent his High School years drenched in his anger, cast out from everyone by his own choice.

I'm sure you're wondering, with my positive lesson learned and with my new status, did I forgive that kid? HELL NO! I never resorted to name calling, but believe me when I say he never DARED approach me or any party where I was in attendance. It was an unwritten rule with him and I. It was even evident when both he and I won the "Class Devil" superlative for the yearbook and he did not show up for the picture. He knew better and I had a big smile on my face for that shot, happy that this gander had cooked his own goose.

As I told Dr. Kenneth Noisewater, some years later at the High School reunion, he approached me and told me that the reason he gave me the name in the first place was because he liked me and I rebuffed him and embarrassed him in front of his friends. I listened to his story, because after all those years, he must have felt the need to atone. But like I said over at the Gancer, if justice is sweet and swift, today he is living in a trailer park with his 250 lb wife and his six, dirty scrappy little kids.